A Pizza The Good Life

All good things come to those who wait and now we're in a month that was definitely worth waiting for, National Pizza Month. And while we can't grow mozzarella, pepperoni, ham or sausage in our gardens(sigh), we can grow herbs and veggies that make a homemade pizza all the more special because they add fresh flavors that can only be found in produce that was harvested just a few minutes ago.

So go ahead and grow basil and tomatoes. Make that homemade pizza sauce. Shred yellow summer squash or zucchini. Drain them, squeeze out the excess liquid and sprinkle them  generously over your creation. Put on some young tender spinach. Add homegrown onions and peppers if you like, raw or sauteed. And you can even include roasted homegrown garlic if you have a mind to.

The variations of pizza are endless. And you'll need far more than one month to explore them. So get started now and enjoy! Mangia! Mangia!

Kapusta

Did you know that August 28th is national bow tie day in the U.S.? And what better way to celebrate it than with a dish made from garden fresh cabbage and sweet onion combined with bow tie pasta? Kapusta is cabbage braised low and slow in a large Dutch oven to bring out the flavor of the onions and marry it with the cabbage as it grows ever more tender.

Kapusta
Prep: 15 minutes
Cook: 2 1/2 hours

Makes: 6 servings

1 large heavy green cabbage, halved, cored
1 large sweet yellow onion (such as Vidalia)
6 tablespoons olive oil
Pepper and salt

1. Dice: Cut cabbage into ¾ inch dice. Cut onion into ½ inch dice. In a Dutch oven or other large, heavy pot, toss cabbage, onion and oil. (Go ahead, use your hands.) Season generously with pepper.

2. Caramelize: Slide pot into a 325-degree oven and let cook uncovered, stirring now and then, until soft, sweet and golden-brown, about 2 1/2 hours. Season with salt.

3. Serve: Delicious as a side dish to sausage or roast meat. Or boil a pound of bow tie noodles and toss with kapusta for a classic comfort dish.

The Second Time Around

Soon, much too soon for my taste, I know that we will probably have our first hard frost here in NWI. But the nice thing about root vegetables is that a nip of frost doesn't end their existance. So come what may, my second round of onions will probably turn out O.K.

We Need More Spoiled Americans

Have you ever taken a tomato that slipped into your palm with the slightest of tugs and eaten it, straight from the vine, at the peak of its glorious ripeness while it was still warm from the sun? Have you ever grown a melon that was so outlandishly sweet that people accused you of sprinkling sugar on it before you served it to them? Have you ever sliced into freshly harvested onions that were so powerfully pungent and juicy it was hard to believe that they were only half the size of their store bought counterparts? Have you ever tasted the natural sweetness of carrots pulled from the ground only minutes before, reveled in their magnificent aroma as you grated them and then savored them in a freshly baked carrot cake? If you have never done any of these things, you don't know what you're missing. You need to join those of us who have. You need to become a spoiled American.

 Indeed you will become a spoiled American once you have tried any of the things mentioned above. You will realize that what you have been getting from the local supermarket is nothing but the pale imitation of what produce is supposed to look like and taste like. And you will be loathe to ever settle for such fare again. So I invite you to join us in our spoiled ways. You don't need an acre of land or a green thumb. Got a south facing window? Grow some herbs. Got a balcony or patio that gets plenty of sun? Grow some peppers and other container vegetables. And after you have spoiled yourself, spoil a few friends. They'll thank you for it.