Monday Munchies: I Got the Garden Blues

For the past several summers, my husband, Dan, and I have called the shores of Big Bear Lake in northern Michigan home. Although we both love it up here, we especially look forward to having our own garden – something that's not easy to come by in our French Quarter apartment (where we spend much of the rest of the year). I even wrote about our seasonal efforts in July of 2009, when I first started this blog.

Sadly, though, because of a combination of factors – namely, our later-than-usual arrival and our preoccupation with various tasks, such as my struggle to update the Moon New Orleans guide and preparations for our first-ever Traverse City Shorts Festival – we weren't able to start a garden this summer, and believe me, we're both missing the usual sight of our ever-growing tomatoes, zucchini, eggplant, and other produce. We're especially bummed that there are no mint leaves this year – as each of us does dearly love a refreshing mojito from time to time. But, alas, life intervened, and it just wasn't meant to be.

Of course, there's always next year. In the meantime, though, I'll have to live vicariously through my online pals. So, what's growing in your gardens this year?

Monday Munchies: Eggplant Parmesan

Back in July, I wrote about the little garden that Dan and I typically grow every summer in northern Michigan – or perhaps I should say “attempt to grow every summer” because the unusually cool weather has not been kind to our veggies this season. Many of our herbs shriveled early, and the cucumbers were less than promising. As usual, our zucchini thrived – a few even grew to record size – and the cherry tomatoes, though late, have been consistently delicious for the past few weeks. But the big surprise this summer has been one of the plants that I’ve been tending. Every season, I try something new – and this year, it was – you guessed it – eggplant!

Early in the summer, Dan had had his doubts. The wee card embedded in the potted eggplant that we’d bought at the hardware store promised that this particular bush could produce up to fifty eggplant in one season. Dan scoffed at such a number, but the prospect intrigued me – and served as a challenge to my nonexistent gardening skills. In Dan’s defense, neither of us had attempted to grow eggplant before. But, since I’ve been on an eggplant kick lately – perhaps recalling the delicious eggplant parmesan I’d had at Mona Lisa, a quaint Italian restaurant in the French Quarter – I was determined to watch it grow... and grow it did. In June and July, it did little more than stay alive, but by August, the lavender-hued blossoms were beginning to transform into purplish-black pods – like something out of a “body snatcher” flick.

I was so bloody excited the day that I noticed my first eggplant “pod” – and soon, there were seven little pods of various sizes. One, in particular, looked pretty darn healthy. It grew at the base of the stalk, eventually growing too long to hang. For a long time, it lay atop the potting soil, getting longer and bigger every day. Concerned about rot, I checked it regularly, but I was emphatically told by my mother (via a long-distance phone call) not to pluck it until it was tender. I felt it daily for signs of a change in texture, but it just continued to grow. Eventually, I broke down and bought a full-sized eggplant from the grocery store (pictured here beside my little homegrown one). I know it seems like a betrayal, but I was dying for a nice plate of grilled eggplant. If you must know, Karma got its revenge – I ended up burning the store-bought eggplant on the grill. Sigh.

As Inigo Montoya says in The Princess Bride, “I hate waiting.” And yet, that’s exactly what I did. I waited and I waited and I waited some more, and finally my low-hanging eggplant seemed ready to pluck. It was on the small side – compared to those found in most produce sections – but it definitely felt right when I squeezed it – and another one of the seven was close on its heels, almost ready to be plucked as well. Visions of eggplant parmesan began dancing across my inner sanctum. I had promised Dan for weeks that I was going to prepare eggplant parmesan, but as usual, I procrastinated and Dan eventually decided to make it without my assistance – which, while I felt bad about breaking another cooking-related promise (for, yes, this was hardly the first time), was ultimately a good thing.

After all, Dan is the chef in the family – and he’d actually been proactive enough to find a recipe that included red, orange, and yellow peppers (the very peppers that were waiting patiently in the refrigerator to be eaten).

“What?” I said. “Peppers in eggplant parmesan? Who would do such a dastardly thing?”

Apparently, Giada De Laurentiis, the Food Network’s lovely Italian vixen, would. It was her recipe he’d found, and then, being Dan, promptly manipulated. And even though I’d never before spotted a single pepper piece in a dish of traditional eggplant parmesan, I was more than willing to give it a try. For one thing, Dan was eager to cook in my stead. For another thing, I trusted his judgment – and I pretty much like everything that Giada makes.

So, though I offered to help him slice the peppers and eggplant, he shooed me into the bathroom to take a shower. We were, after all, having dinner with his parents, and it’s usually polite to be clean for the occasion.

“But, Dan, will two eggplant be enough for all for of us?”

He sighed. “Yes, more than enough. I’m making sausage, too, you know.”

Naturally. The Martones are Italian, after all; there’s almost always meat at a family dinner. In fact, I think I might have been the only one to have ever eaten eggplant parmesan as an entrée.

Without another peep, I dutifully shuffled into the bathroom. By the time I’d emerged, Dan had already sliced and grilled the eggplant. Then, I watched him as he lay the thick eggplant slices on a layer of tomato sauce, followed by a handful of shredded mozzarella and parmesan, more sauce, and rows of vibrant pepper slices, above which he added more cheese, more sauce, and, of course, more cheese. Didn’t I mention we’re Italian? (Well, for the most part anyway.)

I have to admit that, after all my skepticism, Dan’s eggplant parmesan turned out pretty good. It was delicious, in fact – and, as with most dishes he prepares, the best I’ve ever had. He was right, too, about the amount. With the stewed sausage, there was plenty of eggplant parmesan to go around. In fact, there were enough leftovers that I was able to have three more meals’ worth over the course of the week. I’m more than happy to admit that he was right about the recipe – if only Dan were willing to admit that he was wrong about my poor little bush. It might not have produced fifty eggplant as promised, but it gave us seven more than he expected, and that’s reason enough to be happy with “the little garden that could.”

Tuesday Travels: Angelic Gardens

Not too long ago, I wrote about the amazing gardens of Southern California for my American Nomad blog on Moon.com. All in all, the Los Angeles area offers some wonderful natural sanctuaries – ironic considering how much my husband and I grew to dislike the constant traffic, dirty air, and phony vibe of our former home. In fact, after living there for nearly five years, we were more than happy to embark upon our current nomadic lifestyle – if only to get a respite from the congestion. But no matter where we travel, the gardens stay with me still.

One of my favorite havens is The Huntington Library, Art Collections, and Botanical Gardens, a 207-acre oasis in San Marino, not far from Pasadena. On November 30, 2006 – my thirtieth birthday – I convinced Dan to spend the entire afternoon there, and I couldn’t have asked for a better birthday present (of course, that was before my thirty-second birthday, when Dan gave me a cat named Ruby).

After paying the rather hefty admission fee ($15 each), we began our afternoon at the Rose Garden Tea Room, where we’d made a noon reservation for a traditional English tea. Situated in the heart of the immaculate grounds and surrounded by the lovely rose, herb, and Shakespeare gardens, the quaint tea room was an ideal spot to view the foliage and sample an array of delectables.

Once we were seated, a pleasant waitress served us a pot of seasonal tea and a basket of freshly baked scones, then we headed to the central buffet, where an assortment of finger sandwiches, imported cheeses, seasonal salads, fresh fruit, and scrumptious desserts awaited us. Unlike other traditional teas we’d experienced, this one offered a laidback atmosphere, where casual attire was as acceptable as fancy suits and dresses. Even better, the $25-per-person cost included limitless tea, scones, and buffet items. The Windsor Court Hotel in New Orleans certainly hadn’t encouraged us to pig out at teatime!

Following our pleasant meal, we explored the sprawling grounds, 120 acres of which were open to the public. From the aromatic rose bushes, we strolled through the tranquil Japanese garden, one of America’s oldest and most elaborate. This sloping, picturesque landscape presented lily ponds, elegant pagodas and lanterns, a graceful bridge, and a 19th-century-style Japanese dwelling amid gorgeous wisteria, sweet olive, bamboo, junipers, cycads, and red pine trees. The adjacent Bonsai Court, an intriguing collection of carefully pruned miniature trees, was truly a wonder. Never before had I seen such a tiny California juniper.

From there, we ambled through the Australian, subtropical, and jungle gardens. As our shadows lengthened and sunset approached, we stumbled upon the desert garden, a well-tended playground of varied cacti and succulents that seemed to glisten in the late afternoon sunlight. Although I'd found the Japanese garden wondrous, there was something indescribably beautiful about the stark desert landscape, and I took several photographs of the strangely contoured plants.

Before the staff had a chance to chase us off the grounds, we scurried to the Huntington Art Gallery, which showcased an impressive collection of European paintings, including Thomas Gainsborough’s The Blue Boy (circa 1770). Afterward, we hustled through the Library Exhibition Hall, where I spotted the Gutenberg Bible (1455), a manuscript of Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales, a stunning edition of Audubon’s Birds of America, and a wealth of other historical items.

Eventually, of course, an employee escorted us out of the building – and our Huntington adventure came to a close. I sure wish that we’d had time to see everything; we could have easily spent two whole days at the Huntington and still not seen all the art, literature, and flora on display. But we’ll just have to plan a more in-depth excursion during our brief return to Los Angeles in January. Maybe we’ll even be in time for the first Thursday of the month, when admission is free.

Weekend Mishmash: The Not-So-Secret Garden

Dan and I make no secret about it: We love spending our summers in the woods of northern Michigan. Up here, the air is pure, the trees are lovely, and the days are long. Sometimes, the sky doesn’t turn dark until ten o’clock at night... and there’s nothing quite like watching the sun rise above Big Bear Lake (on the rare occasions that we’re up that early).

Of course, despite such natural splendor, we feel isolated at times. We’re a long way, after all, from our friends in Los Angeles (where we spend our winters) and my family in New Orleans (where we spend the spring and fall). But, most of the time, we’re grateful for our peaceful summers – the perfect way to rejuvenate our weary spirits, in the months between our two hectic film festivals.

For the past three summers, though, there’s been one aspect of our Michigan stay that Dan and I have anticipated the most: growing our little garden, beside our little house. For Dan, there’s nothing better than cooking with fresh produce. For me, there’s nothing better than eating it right off the vine.

True, Dan has the green thumb in the family – and he’s much better than I am at tending the herbs and vegetables. But, despite my shortcomings, I enjoy sifting the dirt with my hands, situating the small plants in May, watering them throughout June and July, and observing the zucchini, cucumbers, tomatoes, bell peppers, and other delectables in August and September.

Every year, we’ve tried something new. The first summer, it was bok choy. Last year, it was green beans. This time, it was eggplant. And while the summer of 2009 has been particularly cool – especially at night – and caused the unfortunate shriveling of more than one plant, some of the herbs and produce are indeed thriving. During a recent rainstorm, the aromas of mint and cilantro were overpowering, and we’ve already plucked two amazing specimen of zucchini.

Perhaps, the rest of the plants will rally soon. By the end of August, I hope that the teeny bell peppers will have expanded, the green tomatoes will have ripened, and the elusive eggplant will have appeared – if only so that Dan won’t feel so dejected about this season’s efforts. But, no matter what happens, it’s still fun watering the plants on a warm summer’s day and looking up to see our curious kitty, Ruby, watching from the bedroom window.

Or is it a fluttering butterfly that’s captured her awareness? Sometimes, it’s hard to say with her.