Moxie Gardener

Garlic Chive seedlings satisfy my need to grow something this winter.

There is no winter garden in Minneapolis.  Nothing that is actually growing, anyway.  The ground is frozen solid, covered with several inches of snow and probably will be for another three months.

In fall when the days get shorter, I always mourn the end of the gardening season.  Somehow, I find myself going through the phases of grief, grieving for the loss of the actively growing landscape.

After the steamy nights of summer, the cool nights of fall are a shock.  Then, the warm days of fall lull me into a false sense of security.  Winter will not come this year.  Or if it does, it will be mild, mild, mild.  A severe state of “cold-weather denial,” plain and simple.

Each morning I ask for one more frost-free day.  So many crops near maturity.  Just a few more anomalous summer-like fall days.  I promise to be good, if only we have a few more hot, sunny days.

As the autumn cool-weather crops come into their peak of flavor, I feel a little guilty about wanting hot summer weather to continue.  Honestly, are we not sick of zucchini and eggplant?

When the first frost hits, I always feel a little anger at the loss of so many flowers everywhere in the city.  Why can’t their owners cover them?  We could enjoy them for a few more weeks of warm autumn days, if only they’d been protected from that early frost….

As the falling leaves pile up in my garden and make their presence known with my every movement, I feel a sense of unhappiness, even depression, at the loss of my garden.  The lush vibrancy it had this summer is no more.

Depression gives way to resignation as I realize that even the cool weather crops have stopped actively growing.

Finally, I accept the end of this year’s gardening season, but only after the ground freezes solid and snow covers my garden.

For the next three to four months, all growing is done indoors, preferably under lights.  This year the houseplants and overwintering Rosemary and parsley weren’t enough.  I planted seeds.  Garlic chive seeds, gathered from my garden in September.

They’ve already germinated and are doing quite nicely under my fluorescent lights.  I expect to snip off enough to sprinkle on a salad or soup in about two or three weeks.

I grow food because I can’t not grow food.  Even in December in Minneapolis.

Garlic Chives in bloom

Gathered since ancient times and cultivated since Medieval times, garlic chives have been used as a seasoning, vegetable and medicine.  Their subtle garlic flavor enhances many dishes.  Asian cooks give garlic chives a starring role—cooked whole in stir fries or cut in large chunks in a simple soup.  Asian cuisine also features garlic chives as a seasoning.  Whatever way you use them, garlic chives are an asset to any cook’s seasoning repertoire.  Oh, and they’re really easy to grow.

Allium tuberosum is its Latin name.  Allium is Greek for garlic and tuberosum describes the tuberous rhizomes from which it grows.  The leaves of garlic chives are broad and flat, unlike the onion flavored chives, with their round, hollow leaves.  Garlic chives produce white star shaped flowers in late summer, while onion chives produce lilac colored flowers in late spring.

Garlic chives are usually started from root divisions in spring or fall.  You can start from seed, but it can take an entire year for a clump to get established.  Plant in fertile soil in full sun, although garlic chives will grow in partial shade.  Keep moderately moist but don’t over water the first year, to give the plant a chance to produce a strong root system.

Whether your clump of garlic chives is new or established make sure you cut the whole thing down to the ground several times during the growing season.  Older established leaves become tough and stringy and cutting down the entire plant causes it to produce tender new leaves.  If you can’t use the garlic chives you just cut from the plant, feed your compost pile.

Garlic chives are prolific re-seeders.  Gather the seeds before they drop and use to grow sprouts.  Garlic chive seeds produce a sprout that’s peppery yet delicate in flavor.  Or cut the flowers before seeds form.  Chinese cooks dry the flowers and grind them into a garlic-flavored powder.  If you’re not that ambitious, cut the garlic chive flowers with long stems and include in your late summer/early fall flower bouquets.  Their light airiness makes a nice accent flower.  Or simply toss the fresh, individual flower petals into a green salad.

Garlic chives grow much faster than regular chives and you’ll need to divide them every three years.  Less hardy than regular chives, garlic chives need extra protection in colder areas.  The way they re-seed themselves pretty much assures you of always having a clump of garlic chives in your garden.