When It Rains, It Blogs

Black Cherry Tomatoes from the Bird Back 40

I really should be working. No -- really -- I should. It's a Saturday afternoon after a nice morning rainstorm and there's lots to do. I could plant garlic! I could pull weeds! I could clean the cat litter boxes! I could clean out the garage! So much to do. Instead, I blog.

No wonder the cats hate me.

There is one gardening project that I did take care of on this fine weekend day. See those nice cherry tomatoes in the top right corner? Those are Black Cherry tomatoes -- some of the best tasting cherry tomatoes I've ever had. And the thing is -- I didn't plant them this year. Like many tomato plants that spring to life in the spring -- the plant that produced these luscious Black Cherry tomatoes were "volunteers" in the Bird Back 40.

Saving Tomato Seed

I don't normally save tomato seed. I shove my plants so close together in the springtime that there's often a chance of cross-pollination. The tomato "experts" claim that cross-pollination among open-pollinated, heirloom tomato varieties is very rare, except I've seen it happen. And it's taken place right here in the Bird Back 40. Saving seed, therefore, simply isn't an option in my book.

But I made an exception with this particular tomato and if you're asking why, be patient, because I'll get to that in a moment. You see, this was one exceptional Black Cherry tomato plant. It produced golf ball sized cherry tomatoes in some cases -- bigger than most Black Cherry plants normally produce. That's a variety worth saving.

Black Cherry Volunteer Among Melon Vines

Secondly, this volunteer sprang to life in a raised gardening bed that had been reserved for melons, carrots, eggplants, bush beans, beets and a smattering of leftover pepper plants. In other words -- there was nary another tomato plant to be found in this bed. All of the other plants were on the other side of the Bird Back 40, reducing the chances of cross-pollination.

Finally, I'm almost positive that this plant sprang from a cherry tomato that I had put into this raised bed a year earlier. I'll be honest with you. The plant I put into the ground last year was nothing to write home about. It caught some sort of funky disease not long after plant out. And while the disease didn't kill it, it did severely limit production and what came off the vine wasn't all that good to be brutally honest.

Black Cherry Tomatoes Ready for Seed Saving

This is one of the challenges that heirloom growers face. Sometimes you get good tomato. Sometimes you don't. This Black Cherry tomato plant wasn't all that great. However, it was planted next to another heirloom variety that churned out buckets of large tomatoes -- one of my best producers last year. Figure that one out. I still haven't figured out why some plants do well -- while others planted two feet away perform horribly.

When I noticed this Black Cherry plant volunteer growing among the many melon seeds I planted -- I resisted the urge to tear it out. I didn't really spot it until I noticed the first ripened offerings to be honest. And they were pretty darn large and pretty darn good in my opinion. Secondly, the volunteer plant was prolific with production. Why tear out a good thing that Mother Nature rewarded you with? To put it short and sweet, you don't. You roll with what Mother Nature gives you.

Fermenting Tomato Seeds in a Windowsill

It's while I was cleaning out this particular bed last weekend did I first notice the golf ball sized offerings it had produced. I've never seen Black Cherry tomatoes so large before. So, I borrowed a page from the Father of the Modern Tomato, Alexander Livingston. He would often spot what he called "sports" in his tomato plantings. It's from these "sports" where he saved and gathered seed. This is how Livingston helped create the tomato as a major food source. Before Livingston's time, tomato plants were considered to be "ornamentals." They were to be admired as flowers and nothing more.

The process of saving seed to be used next year isn't all that difficult. It's a little messy -- but also a lot of fun. You simply cut the tomatoes open -- squeeze that tomato juice, pulp and seed into a plastic cup and top it off with two to three tablespoons of water. I also cover my cup with plastic and make sure to poke holes in the top so it can breathe. The most important part of the process is placing it in a spot where the cat won't fuck with it.

Bacterial Growth After Fermentation Process

I have many cats who like to fuck with things. It's what cats do. That's why my cup of tomato goop and seeds went on a windowsill in the office that I keep closed off to the cats. There's no temptation there if they can't see it, and the cats choose to chase marauding mockingbirds instead.

This process, by the way, is called fermentation. It's an important part of the saving seed process because the fermentation acts to remove diseases and other problems that can destroy tomato seeds. After five or six days in a windowsill, your cup of tomato goop will be covered with a fine layer of bacterial growth.

Good Seeds Sink to Bottom

Yeah -- it looks like Hell but it's the result you're looking for. After five or six days, you're ready for the next step. Simply remove the bacterial goop that's formed at the top of the cup with a spoon and fill the cup with a little more water. The good seeds that you'll want to save will sink to the bottom and stay there. I like to pour off bits of water because it gets the leftover tomato goop out before the seeds can spill out. After four or five rinses, you have clean tomato seed at the bottom of your cup. Better yet -- there's no more tomato goop.

After pouring off the rest of the water, while using a fat finger to stop the seeds from spilling out, place your freshly cleaned and fermented seeds on a paper plate or better yet -- a paper towel. Spread them out -- separating each seed if possible (easier said than done). Place your paper plate or paper towel containing seeds in a room or a place where marauding cats can't get to it, and in a week to ten days you have tomato seed for the following spring.

Black Cherry Seeds for Next Year's Garden

It means next year's tomato garden WILL have a Black Cherry tomato plant. Better yet -- you can also trade seed with other growers and try out new varieties.

There's a strange satisfaction that comes from saving your own tomato seed. I can't explain it. I can only tell you that it's there. There's a strange sort of pride that develops when you witness the seeds that you saved from the previous year suddenly spring to life the next spring. I can't put my finger on it, except to tell you that it does exist.

I suppose it's another one of those guilty pleasures derived from gardening. Whatever it is, I like it.

From Tomatoes to Onions in 20 Easy Steps!

If the title of this post sounds somewhat facetious -- that's because it is. And heck, who are we fooling anywho? Let's just be real and remove the "somewhat" and substitute "very."

Long time gardeners will tell you that any sentence containing the phrases of "easy steps" and "gardening" is an oxymoron. Nothing comes easy when you're digging in the dirt -- especially when that dirt has turned to mud thanks to some early season storm activity.

I might be the last person on the planet to know this, but -- TOMATO SEASON IS OFFICIALLY OVER.

There -- I called it. That's all folks. Show's over. Move along. Nothing to see here (except wretched looking late-season heirloom tomato plants (photo to your right should illustrate that point).

Of course, this comes as no news at all to other gardeners in the Sacramento area. Hank Shaw called it a season in late August. I thought the man was clinically insane. But -- as it turns out -- Hank knew something I didn't.

Of course, I could literally feel the end of the season coming. I just chose to ignore those cold mornings in September. Cold temperatures play havoc with sugar levels in fresh-off-the-vine tomatoes. Black Cherry tomatoes suddenly taste like something that comes out of a bottle labeled "Night Train." What is that white fungus forming in the cracks of my tomatoes? Why is that firm tomato suddenly so soft and mushy? What are those bugs and where did they all come from?

Charlie Brown put it best: BLECH!

What is the hardest part of tomato season? The end of tomato season. Those vines that you've nurtured all season long need to be torn out. Vines that snapped easily in the early and mid season are suddenly as tough as iron. And no matter how careful you are -- some giant tomato that is rotted to the core is going to fall off the vine and go "SPLAT" on your shoes.

It's guaranteed. You've heard of "White Shoes Johnson?" Just call me Tomato Shoes Johnson. And I've got the stained shoes to prove it.

It's at this point where I wish I'd really followed the advice of Farmer Fred Hoffman -- who advised me to stick to just three tomato plants per planter bed. Unfortunately -- I ignore that man's good advice far too often. He told me to stick to three plants. I went over that just a tad by planting eight.

Do you know what eight full grown tomato plants represents in the fall? A mess. Vines here. Vines there. How did that Bloody Butcher vine traverse the length of the bed and why didn't I see it? Will all those rotted Black Cherry tomatoes falling to the ground sprout next season (yes)? What just fell on my shoe?

Needless to say, removing eight full-grown plants from a tiny bed causes quite the mess. That large green waste can? Tomato plants laugh at that. Two full grown plants can take up an entire can, no matter how hard I jump up and down on it. So -- today -- I found myself in the act of calling the City of Sacramento "Green Waste" Division with the polite request to "please remove that mass of tomato plants piled in front of my driveway."

There's a good reason why I had such a great year in the tomato growing department. Each planter bed was recharged with nutrients and compost before planting starter plants earlier this spring. And I guarantee that those small starter plants sucked just about everything dry over the course of the summer.

In other words -- just removing the plants is only half the battle. The bed is now devoid of the nutrients that are needed for the fall garden. You think the work is over? Hardly. Removing the plants is just the beginning. It's now time for "Phase II."

Fortunately, I did think ahead in this battle by stacking bags of steer and chicken manure compost in a part of the garden area that could be reached -- even though most of my backyard is now a sticky, muddy, mess. I also discovered that the Mantis Rototiller is not only good at churning up the soil, but removes the last vestiges of tomato plant roots that were left behind during the removal process.

Once you've worked in the new amendments -- which consisted of two bags of steer manure compost, one bag of chicken manure compost and two cups of pelleted Vigaro Fertilizer for vegetables, you've got a fairly clean and recharged bed to work with.

The wife that is Venus didn't waste time. As soon as the tomato bed was cleaned and recharged? She flashed into action -- planting red and yellow onion sets -- lettuce and bok choy starter plants -- and seeds of green onions, radishes and other fall crops.

As for the tomato plants that are still standing in other planter beds that we failed to address this weekend? In the words of former Monday Night Football showman Dandy Don Meredith: "Turn Out the Lights -- The Party's Over."

Black Cherry Tomatoes are From God

Black Cherry Tomato Saute

Seriously, they are.

Seriously.

These are the best cherry tomatoes I've ever tasted in my life, and we have a bunch of them ripening on the vine at the moment in the Backyard of Bird. This is the first of several plants that we have growing in the backyard, and the first to give us ripened fruit.

There are three other, uh, "volunteers" that sprang from the ground outside of a raised bed where I had Black Cherry tomatoes growing last season. I knew what they were the moment I spotted them, but didn't have the heart to pull them out (I'm a SUCKER for good tomatoes), and those three volunteers are fruiting like nobody's business.

Soon, Venus and I will be snowed under with Black Cherry Tomatoes.

Black Cherry Tomato Plant-Bird Back 40

I wish everyone could be so lucky. This, by far, is the most prolific and best tasting cherry variety I've ever had. The discovery, oddly enough, came from a "political enemy" in my State Capitol world.

It's a secret that I don't let slip out often in my Republican circles, but my first introduction to this wonderful cherry tomato came from none other than Steve Maviglio, who served as Deputy Chief of Staff for Assembly Speakers Karen Bass and Fabian Nunez, two of the most powerful Democrats in the State Capitol. The wife that is Venus knew Maviglio thanks to her position at Capitol Television News Service.

As for me, I kept a wide berth around Steve Maviglio. I knew him. Every Republican who serves in the communications field knows him, or knows of him. But, he was the last person you wanted your Republican boss to get into a war of words with. Why? He was usually armed with a bevy of nasty zingers that reporters loved to print, and could wind up making your boss look like the 2nd coming of Mr. Magoo if you weren't careful.

Ripened Black Cherry Tomatoes

But as it turns out, Steve was looking to barter. Venus had recently raved to him about the impending harvest of tree ripened Elberta Peaches -- and we were in for a whopper of a harvest that year. So -- Venus swung the trade: Black Cherry tomatoes and bush beans, for tree ripened peaches.

Steve got four or six of the best peaches off that tree, and I specifically looked high and low for the only peach I could find with a worm hole in it. He got that, plus other peaches, along with a note that read: "enclosing peach with worm hole because I know you organic Democrat types love worms."

I never did hear back from him. But Venus later learned that he enjoyed the note -- and the peaches.

Tracing the history of the Black Cherry tomato isn't easy. It's been around for a couple of years in the united States, but the roots of this fantastic treat appear to be in Russia. Despite researching high and low, I could not find a specific home for the Black Cherry, but did find and copy the following information from the now defunct website Fine Quality Tomato Seeds:

Black Cherry Tomatoes Ready for Harvest

"Black Tomatoes are native to the Southern Ukraine and their seeds were later distributed throughout Western Russia after the Crimean War by soldiers returning home from the front during the early 19th century. Though black tomatoes originally existed in only a relatively small area on the Crimean Peninsula and were limited to only a handful of recognizable varieties, in the years to follow, new varieties of all shapes and sizes began to appear throughout the Imperial Russian Empire.

Today there are at least fifty varieties of black tomato found in the territories of the former Soviet Union, as well as nearly a dozen other types of new black tomatoes which have cropped up elsewhere, most notably in Germany, the former Yugoslavia and the United States."

2009 Tomato Garden-Bird Back 40

The taste of a Black Cherry tomato smacks the tastebuds with a tart surprise of sweet, sour and acidic flavors. You can't eat just one and walk away. If you encounter 10-20 ripened Black Cherry tomatoes during a harvest, the best bet is only half of them will make it inside.

I've used Black Cherry tomatoes for a number of dishes. They are perfect for skewers on a barbecue, wonderful in salsas, look and taste great in salads and are perfect for any stir fry dish under the sun. They are a wonderful addition to the Bird Heirloom Tomato garden, and will be a highly valued part of that garden for years to come.

Thanks Steve.