THE HEIRLOOM TOMATO COOKBOOK

The Heirloom Tomato Cookbook by Mimi Luebbermann is gorgeously presented and just might travel from your kitchen to your coffee table for dinner guests to peruse. Gourmet chefs for the Kendall-Jackson Wine Center’s Heirloom Tomato Festival in Santa Rosa, California, prepared these heirloom tomato recipes, and the seductive photos alone will entice you to experiment with these exquisitely creative tomato recipes.

In addition, the brief "history of the tomato" section and a short "primer" on growing tomatoes could be useful for the tomato grower living anywhere. Luebbermann also includes a list of the 180 heirloom tomato varieties grown in the Vegetable Trial Gardens at the Wine Center. While most of these are 75-plus day varieties, and require too long of a growing season for our region (unless you have a greenhouse), the author does mention one truly short season variety (52 days), one 65-70-day variety.

The recipes emphasize the tomato variety’s savory vegetable or sweet fruit (dessert anyone?) qualities. I was especially intrigued by a several-page spread suggesting types of wine to be paired with tomatoes, depending on tomato color and acid-to-sugar content. Zone 4 readers will have to be adventurous and substitute heirloom tomato varieties that do grow in our region in most of the recipes. While the dish may still taste exquisite with any tomato, be aware that you might not get the same “taste” effect.

On an early fall day, with my tomatoes just beginning to blanch, having read this cookbook, I’m hoping my crop ripens soon so I can experiment with one of these recipes, paired with a glass of wine from our region. (Published by Chronicle Books, $16.95)

—Rilla Esbjornson

SPOTTED KNAPWOOD SPOTTED

Funny how sometimes you think you are seeing everything clearly, but you're really not. You're missing important details. Take noxious weeds for instance. Often they are growing right beside you, but you don't even notice them until they are going to seed, and by then it's too late to deal with them.

This happened to me recently on my morning walk down the dirt road behind our house. I'm pretty keyed in to the hoary alyssum, sulfur cinquefoil, common tansy, ox-eye daisy, and Canada thistle, and will stop and pull what I can if the patch is small. This year, the spotted knapweed snuck up on me, growing undetected amongst the tall grass bordering our field. Just a few days ago, the plants began to flower. Their pinkish-purple color is pretty, but my reaction was anything but appreciative! Horrified, disgusted, and angry are better words to describe how I felt. Angry because it's a lot of work to remove big patches of knapweed by hand.

Here's what the Montana State University extension bulletin says about spotted knapweed: "Spotted knapweed blooms from mid- to late July through early September. Individual flower heads bloom for two to six days before the bracts close. Bracts reopen after about 20 days, and seeds are dispersed by physical movement of the plant. The weed is a prolific producer with 1000 or more seeds per plant. Seeds remain viable in soil for more than eight years and are spread easily by water, animals, humans, and vehicles."

What to do?

The MSU extension advises:

• A single, low-intensity fire does not control knapweed.

• Cultivation to depths of 7 inches or more will control spotted knapweed, but the weeds can regenerate from seeds remaining in the sail.

• Grazing cattle, sheep, and goats will reduce levels of knapweed, but first-year plants are too low to the ground for easy grazing, and mature plants are fibrous and coarse and not an animal's first choice.

• Hand pulling can be effective and is most easily done after a rain. Flowering plants must be contained, removed, and disposed of in a way that doesn't allow the seeds to disperse.

• Mowing during late bud stage can reduce the number of seeds produced.

• If revegetation is your strategy, it "...usually involves a spring or early summer application of Tordon 22K, Transline or Curtail followed by a dormant seeding of grass in late fall."

What did I do? I pulled the plants I could, but the largest wouldn't come out, and I didn't have time to wait for rain. So I cut them close to the ground, transported in a cart to the burn pile, and covered them with a tarp until dry enough to burn.

The problem, as one weed service told me years ago, is that there are so many seeds in the so-called "seed bank" that it takes at least three years of careful management to eradicate nasty noxious weeds.

Today, as I wheeled my knapweed-laden cart down the road, the air filled with the white fluffy seeds of Canada thistle blowing hither and yon. It's enough to make you feel puny and ineffective, because noxious weed manage really is everyone's problem and everyone's responsibility.

—Dan Spurr

MAJOR HAIL DAMAGE

June 30 was a red-letter day in and around the city of Bozeman. At least two different storms blasted the area with hail. The first hit the Gough neighborhood with golf ball-size hail, something I hadn’t seen in 36 years of living here.

I heard the first hailstone hit the roof and dashed to look out the back door calling to Bob, “Big hail, big hail!” He joined me and we watched as our irises were destroyed, the perennials beaten down, lupine tattered, grapes beaten off their supports, and our newly thinned vegetable garden shredded (see photos top left and bottom right). We had several window screens damaged, Bob’s windshield was cracked and hood dented, and every vent on our travel trailer roof was smashed.

I told Bob I completely expected a second wave of hail and dashed out to move his truck closer to the east side of our house (the storm came from the west) and to take photos of our sad-looking yard. (I’m sure I gave the neighbors a laugh in my shorts, tank top and knee-high rubber boots.) While we had another small pelting of pea-size hail, we went to bed thinking we had had the worst possible weather experience. It was only when we read the paper in the morning that we learned that downtown Bozeman and the Montana State University campus had received baseball-size hail during a second storm and there was much damage to homes and businesses.

As I drove through town and saw the broken windows I was immediately thankful. What happened to us was minor compared to what happened to these people. We are looking forward to watching our yard and garden recover.

—Cheryl Moore-Gough

The storm that rolled through Gallatin Valley on July 1 knocked out hundreds of windows around the city, tore paint off walls, punched holes in vinyl siding, dented vehicles and blew out their windows. Many looked like new pitching phenom Stephen Strasburg had been throwing fastballs at them. Farmers in the Four Corners area, just a week away from their first cutting of hay, lost the crop. Home gardens took a hit, too, of course, but looking at the bigger picture, our losses pale.

Joseph Shaw, a professor of electrical and computer engineering at Montana State University, told the Bozeman Daily Chronicle that severe hailstorms often have a green tint, and that when such color is observed, "the storm is probably less than 10 minutes away."

The photo at top right is of Marjorie Fowlkes holding some of the hail stones she collected in her yard and which her husband, Charless, plans to serve in cocktails.

—Dan Spurr

FIRST HARVEST

For the first time, Andra and I bought a share in a CSA this summer. It was probably overdue, as we’ve been publishing stories about community supported agriculture in just about every issue of Zone 4. As chef Steve Kuntz of Montana Epicurean (see Zone 4 No. 4) explained to the Gallatin Women’s Club during a recent talk on local food, buying a share in a CSA is an investment in a farm. You become a partner, advancing the funds the farmer needs to purchase seeds, fertilizer, and equipment for a successful growing season.

One woman at that meeting, who’d previously joined a CSA, said driving to the farm to pick up her box of produce each week wasn’t particularly convenient. Another said bad weather had caused the farmer to lose crop and so she hadn’t received as much food as expected. In response, all Steve could say to the first woman was that seeing where your food is grown is part of the CSA experience, and that many farmers also offer pickups in town for those on tighter schedules. As for the second woman’s experience, shareholders are at the same risk as the farmer. Some years are better than others. As an investor, you help assure the farmer another year in business.

We invested in 3 Fiddles Farm, run by Karin and Matthew Broughton in Bridger Canyon, north of Bozeman (learn more about this young couple in the fall issue of Zone 4). This is only their second year, but we were impressed with what they grew last year, and with their infectious enthusiasm. Karin, just a wisp, spends all day in the fields, bundled up tight from the hot sun with canvas hat, sunglasses, long pants, and long sleeves. She loves giving tours, bouncing among the rows, peeking under covers, and pointing out every variety. This year they got a grant to reduce the cost of a hoop house, which will allow them to expand their offerings both in terms of species and duration.

This week was their first harvest. We drove out to the farm during the appointed hours (late in the afternoon, to give Karin time to harvest, rinse, and package everything. She waited in a shady area near a seasonal stream, keeping the vegetables as cool as possible. Here’s what was in our box:

½ pound Gourmet lettuce

½ pound Hot Shot spicy mustard greens

1-1/2 pounds Hakurei turnips

Bunch of French Breakfast and Cherry Belle radishes

Bunch of green garlic

Mojito mint

Karin recommends eating the turnips raw or slightly steamed, sautéed, or added to stir fries. “And the greens are fabulous, too,” she adds, “raw or cooked in combination with mustard greens or alone.”

We have a pretty diversified palette, but have never sautéed Hakurei turnips, so this will be something new for us. Not only does participating in a CSA give you fresh, local, food, it can introduce you to new and exciting tastes. Excuse me while I sharpen the big kitchen knife!

—Dan Spurr

PLAGUE & PESTILENCE

While much of the country recorded high temperatures the past few weeks (like the 90s in Denver), we here in Montana have stayed pretty darn cool.

Experienced gardeners around Bozeman know to wait until Memorial Day to move transplants outside. I did. In fact, I waited until June 6 because it was chilly. Our starts were in the sunroom and ready to go: peppers, tomatoes, squash, beets, cauliflower and more. It took a couple of hours and everything looked great, until…

Driving home from the post office on Monday I saw an ugly black cloud moving toward the mountains and over the bench where our house sits. Rain, I figured. As I turned into driveway the hail came. Big, golf-ball-size chunks of ice. The wind gusts hurled the balls with ferocity. I was afraid to get out of the truck and decided to wait a minute. By then, it was too late.

When it let up long enough to check the garden I ran across the yard ready to unfurl the fabric on my hoop tunnels. What a sorry sight! Everything macerated—except the garlic, planted last fall and already more than a foot tall, and the spinach. Even the skinny onion sets were shredded.

Okay, this is zone 4 right? Hail happens.

Undaunted, I bought plants at a local nursery and planted all the same vegetables the next weekend. On Sunday. Sure that I’d seen the last of my woes, I dusted my hands feeling happy, until…

Monday morning I woke to walk the dogs up the nearby canyon, walking past our garden, which is well fenced to keep the deer out. Dang if something hadn’t come in the night and eaten all the tender leaves off the Brussels sprouts, cauliflower, squash—everything newly planted except the tomatoes (well, thanks for that anyway).

Looking around I was dismayed to discover a gopher hole (actually a Richardson ground squirrel) inside the fence at the far end of the garden! For the next week I tried to thwart this little bugger—throwing pellets of poison down his hole (I’d never do this outside the fence where other animals could dig it up, i.e. our dogs and cat for starters); set a trap (he just pushed it out of his way, untripped; filled the hole several times with dirt (which he easily spewed out); and out of desperation, set a heavy paver over the hole (he moved the entrance outside the hole). So I got more pavers and practically cemented the whole area around his hole. It worked. (He’s still alive, but for now he’s a one-hole gopher, outside the fence.)

Elated, I replanted the garden for the third time. I felt like I probably should explain myself to the staff at the nursery, but figured they’re probably used to seeing people keep coming back to buy the same plants over and over again. Hey, these are the Rocky Mountains, right?! We’re used to futility.

I planted a fourth time, and stapled row covers over the new plants. This helped for a few days and I was momentarily hopeful. Alas, the leaves started getting picked off here and there until there was nothing left but the main stems. Interestingly, there was no damage to plants in the raised beds. Why? Because the invaders couldn’t climb up a 2x10? This theory suggests a mole, vole, or shrew, of which our fields have probably hundreds. And they could easily pass through the 2x4 mesh of the wire fence.

But why this year and not last? Why me?

On Father’s Day our son Steve brought me four lovely pepper plants, a big tomato plant, and a Jerusalem artichoke. Think I planted them outside? No way!

I bought an Earthbox (more on this clever container system in a future issue) for the peppers and tomato, and planted the artichoke in a big container—IN THE SUNROOM. I figured as long as I can keep the white flies out, I’ll be fine.

The next morning at 5:45 I trotted downstairs to walk the dogs, who often sleep in the sunroom when it’s too warm in the house proper. Boulder, our big male border collie, ran up to me expectantly. Strangely, there was dirt all over his muzzle. I looked past him to my Father’s Day plants. He’d dug up the artichoke. I guess its roots smelled good. Darn him.

Scientists are predicting an unusually bad year for grasshoppers. I’m ready for them. Yup, what a surprise when they come flying out of the dry fields into my garden ready to chow down, and find—nothing.

Some years you can’t win for losing.

—Dan Spurr

WINTER DAMAGE

This is a tough spring for landscape damage. I’ve received a number of queries from readers wondering why the tops of their trees and shrubs haven’t leafed out yet.

An old rule of thumb is that it will take a tree or shrub about as many years to overcome transplant shock as it was old when planted. For example, if you planted a 3-year-old tree it will take that tree about 3 years to catch up with itself and overcome transplant shock. In other words, that tree will not be "established" for three years and the damage you see can actually have been done in the nursery, or from transportation from nursery to the garden, or from transplanting. Such damage typically shows up as dieback of the tops of the branches.

If recent transplanting is not the case, then the problem could be from some damage incurred last season. Since this season has not yet begun, the damage would have to have been caused either last summer, last fall, or during the winter. Most of the damage we see in southwest Montana is desiccation damage, which usually shows up on the uppermost branches for a couple of reasons. A) The uppermost branches are most exposed to sun and wind and consequently get hit the hardest. B) Uppermost branches have large surface-to-volume ratios, meaning they have proportionately greater surface area for transpiration/water loss. C) The outside shoots, well exposed to the weather, are also the newest shoots, with less bark to protect them. D) The newest shoots are also the last to harden off in fall and a sudden drop in temperature will knock them out. This lack of hardening becomes even more problematic if the plants were watered or fertilized late in the season to keep them "green."

Roots are killed when soil temperatures hit about 15°F. Since we had a pretty good snowcover this year I doubt that outright kill is the cause of upper branches not leafing out. Last fall we had very warm weather and things grew late, then we got clobbered literally overnight with -20°F temperatures in mid-October. So the shoots may have gotten damaged at that time (most likely). Now, there was some storage of starch and nitrogen in the trunk and roots of the trees before that time. This is used for growth in the following spring. The nutrients stored are pushed up in spring to help the upper parts of the plant metabolize until the leaves can come out and do their job by sending photosynthates back down to the roots. If the leaves did not come out, obviously they cannot resupply the roots with nutrients. When the roots run out, the top of the plant dies. Also, the extreme cold may have damaged the phloem tissue in the trunk. If that is the case, even if the leaves do come out they cannot replace the root nutrients and the upper parts of the plant die.

All of this damage begins to become evident when the weather warms...right now, but it was induced last year sometime. I have seen many apple trees girdled by voles in winter that bloom well and even leaf out normally, only to wilt literally overnight when the weather gets warm...the damage the voles did to the phloem and cambium was irreparable. In that case the roots could supply the top with water and some stored nutrients through the xylem to get things in gear, but the top could not replace the photosynthates, and eventually when the tree was put under heat stress, it died.

If the branches are dead, prune them out any time of year. But be sure they are dead. Sometimes damage is not fatal and the branches will leaf out slowly and late. My rule of thumb is to wait until the 4th of July (see photo for branch that leafed out after being pruned). If they haven't leafed out by then they are likely dead, so the wait would not change things; if not dead, it is so late in the season that they won't have enough growing time and be weak going into another winter, and if the fall or winter is tough again, they will likely go out next year.

This is typical scenario for this area. A plant may hang on for several years and folks say, “What do you mean I can't grow that here? I've had it growing for X number of years!” But then the winters and summers find a way to clobber us and the plants that gardeners thought were hardy, weren't—and I feel vindicated!

Our ‘Adelaide Hoodless’ shrub rose which is supposed to be hardy here and which had done very well for us for a half dozen years, got killed back to the snowline this year. Our yucca (hardy to zone 4 according to the books) has severe dieback, and all four of our hardy plums may not make it. It is for this reason another old rule of thumb of mine is that hardiness zone designations are only accurate to +/- one hardiness zone. Gardeners put way too much stock in their zone accuracy—after all, we're dealing with weather!

Bottom line: I think much of the damage you see was done by the deep sudden cold last October that was exacerbated by the unusually warm weather leading up to it.

—Dr. Bob Gough

Spinach in March

It's only mid May and Cheryl picked yet another batch of fresh spinach. We've been eating spinach from the garden since early April, even before many gardeners had sown their spinach seeds. We did it by frost-seeding in late September. Being hardy, the spinach seedlings spent the winter beneath a constant cover of snow mulch and as soon as the snow melted in late March, the inch-tall seedlings shot up. We've been eating spinach ever since. Frost seeding is an old practice not very often mentioned in garden books now. It works in our area for not only spinach but also peas. Seeds treated with a fungicide are less apt to rot in the cold soil but the treatment is more of a life insurance and not absolutely necessary. Try it this year. —Dr. Bob Gough