I've been ashamed to admit it, but every spring for years now I've been mocked by the sorrel I planted five or six years ago. Just three little plants, stuck in the dirt at one end of the raised beds that Dave built in the one sunny spot in our very shady yard. Every spring, like clockwork, they push out new leaves, joining the previous ones still hanging around that apparently kept it alive through some brutal winter temperatures and several days of six-inch-thick ice.

The plants have grown larger every year, and for all those years I did my level best to figure out what to do with the abundance of leaves, once trying to pan fry them like other greens, which turned them into a mass of grey, gooey mush, or another time stirring them into a potato-leek soup that made the color and the goo less noticeable.

Chopping a few leaves into a salad was okay, but adding much more than four or five leaves, and their tangy, citrus-y bite overwhelmed the pleasant sweetness of the other greens. A pesto using half sorrel and half of another herb like spinach or parsley or basil worked, pepping up its flavor and giving it a lively greenness. But any of the above only used a smidgen of what the prolific plants were producing.

My epiphany came with my recent adaptation of a sweet red wine vinaigrette that I came up with to dress the lighter, more delicate spring salad greens, a change from the creamy vinaigrettes and Caesar-type salad dressings I use for winter's salads.

Would a sweet dressing counterpoint the bite of the sorrel? Only one way to find out, and my family is always my go-to for experiments, since I can trust their honesty and forthrightness even if it's on the order of "What have you done???"

My first attempt was a simple one, just a chiffonade of sorrel with green olives and crushed hazelnuts with that sweet dressing—it got an enthusiastic thumbs-up around the table. The second (top photo) was more hearty, with the sorrel chiffonade topped with leftover roasted asparagus, tetsukabuto squash and roasted pumpkin seeds tossed with the dressing. Another success!

So I'm passing it on, and with the well-entrenched plants furiously producing new leaves in a pitched battle to defeat the army of snails and slugs chewing holes in them. I'm getting ideas about trying it with a gremolata of hard-boiled eggs, capers, and parsley, among other ideas. Wish me luck!

Sorrel Salad with Sweet Red Wine Vinaigrette

For the dressing:
1/4 c. extra virgin olive oil
2 Tbsp. red wine vinegar
1 Tbsp. Dijon mustard
2 Tbsp. honey
1 tsp. dried Italian seasoning (or a combo of basil, thyme, rosemary and marjoram)
1 small clove garlic, crushed
1 tsp. sea salt

For the salad (see story for more suggestions):
3-4 c. sorrel, cut into chiffonade
1/4 c. hazelnuts, crushed
8 Spanish anchovy-stuffed olives, chopped
1/4 c. raisins or currants (optional)
Salt to taste

Put all dressing ingredients in a small lidded jar. Shake.

In a salad bowl combine sorrel, hazelnuts, olives and raisins (or whatever ingredients you're using). Pour 3 Tablespoons of the dressing over the salad and toss. Add salt and fresh ground pepper to taste, adding more dressing if desired.

Now that our fall rains have started, it's time to get out in the yard and do some cleanup and planting. While the late local garden maven Dulcy Mahar didn't recommend spreading compost until after Thanksgiving, I thought it might be good to rerun this post from 2009 (!) for planning purposes.

It was one of those invitations you just don't get very often. Like meeting the queen of England (or, more to my liking, her Corgis).

So when David Kobos (left)*, whom I was interviewing about the history of coffee roasting in Portland for an upcoming MIX magazine article on local micro-roasters, mentioned that he has an annual gathering to make dirt and would I be interested, I jumped at the chance. I mean, how often do you get to find out that kind of thing? Plus the invitation included not only a tour of his organic farm but a big breakfast and some ass-kicking coffee to wash it all down with.

Last Sunday found me tooling out to the wilds of Clackamas County in, appropriately enough, Dave's old Toyota truck. I pulled up to the Kobos homestead, a gorgeous 1915 farmhouse that he and his wife, Susan, have spent the last few decades restoring. Out beyond it were his geese, a sheep and about 80 chickens, plus a huge organic garden with the most beautiful soil I've seen in a long time.

After a couple of mugs of strong coffee (a Kenyan estate roast, Kobos pointed out) to fortify us for the dirt-making, Kobos, his son, Adam, and I headed out to the little barn, which was the original home on the property. David had set out all the supplies, so we spent the next hour or so filling buckets, sieving the peat moss and compost to remove debris (top photo) and mixing it in his ancient wheelbarrow (right). By the end we had eight or so 50-lb. bags of gorgeous seed-starting mix, which Kobos said was also good for potting plants.

And that breakfast? I barely stopped eating long enough to notice what I was putting in my mouth, but I remember a lovely egg strata, light, sweet scones made by his daughter-in-law, Betty, and some authentic (and unbelievably delicious) Polish kielbasa that her parents had brought in their luggage from Queens. And of course, more of that wonderful coffee.

If you'd like to make your own dirt, Mr. Kobos has supplied the recipe.

Seed Starting Mix

From David Kobos of Kobos Coffee Company

Use a 2-gallon bucket for measuring:

3 buckets peat moss
3 buckets steer manure
1/2 c. dolomite lime
1 bucket perlite
1 bucket vermiculite
2 c. organic fertilizer

If not using sifted peat moss and steer manure, dump buckets onto 1/2" framed screen (photo, top) and sift by hand to remove debris. Add remaining ingredients and mix thoroughly using a shovel or garden hoe. Using bucket, dump into 50 lb. seed bags. Makes 2 1/2 cubic feet.

NOTE: If you can't find Vermiculite, use double Perlite. The recipe above makes 2 1/2 cubic feet.

Organic Fertilizer Mixes

From David Kobos

These mixes are by volume, not weight.

Mix #1:
4 parts seed meal (cottonseed, soybean, linseed, etc.)
1 part dolomite lime
1 part ground phosphate rock (or 1/2 part bone meal)
1 part kelp meal

Mix #2:
1 part ground phosphate rock
1 part blood meal
1 part greensand

* David Kobos passed away in 2019. Read his obituary.

I'm still a little teary at the loss over the winter of the "tarragon hedge" in my raised bed dedicated to herbs, so a trip to get new starts was in order. After picking up replacement tarragon, I also got some chervil, Italian parsley and garlic chives—and came home to find that the Beaverton Farmers Market newsletter had some helpful hints about herbs used in Thai recipes, including those garlic chives I'd just bought!

“A little sprinkle of fresh herbs on a meal can mean the difference between flavors that are just nice, and flavors that are spectacular. And when you have fresh herbs growing in your own backyard, porch planters, or window box, this makes it even easier to boost the flavor of your homemade meals." - Gardener's Path

Beaverton Market Master Ginger Rapport agrees with this advice. Fresh herbs are always an important part of her garden plan. In fact, Ginger grows her herbs in large pots on the patio right outside her kitchen where they are readily accessible. They are both useful and beautiful. Important to note here that growing herbs in pots is also a defense against Ginger’s male grand-dog Jax, who loves to lift his leg on her garden plants. Fortunately, he is a small terrier, but if you have male dogs in the yard you will want to consider this when you plan your herb garden.

Since Ginger does a lot of Thai cooking, there are two herbs, in particular, she raises in abundance—garlic chives and Thai basil.

Thai Basil and Italian Basil: Thai basil (top photo) is different from Italian basil, which she also grows, in that it has a more anise-like fragrance and smell with a slightly more spicy taste. The leaves are sturdier than Italian basil leaves and can withstand some cooking. Thai basil is an essential ingredient in pho, a Vietnamese soup, but it is used liberally in salads, curries, noodle dishes and stir-fries.

The two herbs, while related, are distinctive enough in flavor that using them interchangeably in a recipe shortchanges the dish you are preparing.  They each have their own distinct flavor notes so it is worth growing both varieties.

Thai basil and Italian basil are tender in our hardiness zone and are treated as annuals in the garden. Chives, on the other hand, come back year after year. In fact, they easily re-sow themselves in other areas of your garden so keep that in mind when planting them.

Garlic Chives vs. Regular Chives: The leaves and flowers of both chives and garlic chives are edible. However, regular chives grow tubular hollow leaves that smell and taste mildly oniony, whereas garlic chives grow wide flat leaves that taste mildly garlicky. Most of us are familiar with regular chives which are a common garnish for dishes that need a beautiful green touch and a gentle onion-flavored finish.

While garlic chives can be chopped to use as a garnish, keep in mind that they will have a tougher texture than regular chives. Because they are sturdier they can be treated more like a vegetable and are common ingredients in Asian cuisines including stir-fries, soups, salad, and marinades.

Get recipes for chive blossom vinegar and chive oil, as well as Ginger's favorite recipe for Pad Thai that usesarlic chives.

Photos from Gardener's Path.

Blossoms are showering our sidewalks with pink snow, tulips and daffodils are out in full force, so it must be time to plant our vegetable gardens, right?

Not so fast, according to Ginger Rapport of the Beaverton Farmers Market, a seasoned plant maven. "Now is the time of year to get your peas, kales, rhubarb, broccoli, beets, carrots and some lettuces in the ground," she said. "It is not the time for planting tomatoes and basil unless you plan on keeping them protected from the cool temperatures and rain."

Another voice of reason comes from Chris Hertel of Sun Gold Farm in Forest Grove. "Don’t be fooled and have patience," he cautions. "We can’t mess with Mother Nature! We can only work with her. Too much rain and cold weather will either harm your tomato plant or make it weak."

Those garden center tomatoes that are waving their leafy appendages at you, begging you to bring them home and plant them in some nice, richly composted soil? They're grown in heated greenhouses, said Hertel. "The plants are not conditioned to anything that Mother Nature is giving us now. If we wait and have patience, the nights will get warmer and days will be drier. That usually happens around Mother’s Day weekend."

So go ahead and get your spring yayas exorcised and plant rows of those hardy spring greens and root veggies, and wait until the soil temperature gets up to at least 55 degrees—60 is even better—to plant those tomato starts. Your summer will be that much sweeter with a little added patience along with that compost.

Ya gotta love a guy who gets all motivated by the activity next door and decides to build a raised bed for our tomatoes this year. The local paper had an article about how to build one, but no, that was pooh-poohed as not being sturdy enough to last his minimum requirement of twenty years.*

This, of course, necessitated getting out the computer and drafting a plan of his own, which translates into the opportunity to use as many saws, drills, planes, levels and other tools as he possibly can. After myriad trips to the hardware store to get the cedar, screws and any new tools that might come in handy, he got down to the business of cutting the wood and assembling the materials to make the frame.

We had to wait a week or so for the weather and our schedules to clear, then we dug up the lawn, put the frame together and hauled in multiple bags of compost and manure, a solid afternoon of hard work that was rewarded with a very dry martini and toasts to the eventual harvest. The next day I planted two Cherokee Purple tomatoes, a Brandywine, a Green Zebra, a Black Plum cherry and an Isis Candy cherry, then surrounded them with their red Wall O' Water tomato teepees. The bases were scattered with basil and arugula seeds and watered liberally.

There's room for another bed next to it, which fits nicely into my plan to eliminate as much grass as possible and turn this patch of southern sun into a productive terraced garden. That and get rid of the arbor vitae and replace it with...oh, well, you don't need my whole list. I'll save that for another post!

Details: Get Dave's 10-Year Raised Bed plans.

* They actually lasted ten years before needing to be rebuilt, but considering our wet Pacific Northwest weather, that was just fine.