Onion Ring King and Queen of North Natomas!

Homer Bucket of Onions: Partial Harvest

It's about that time of year when the wife that is Venus and I play this little game of "let's make dinner." That is -- we will tell one another that we want to make a particular dish, but need to purchase things such as "tomatoes, peppers, zucchini, onions, green onions, etc."

Of course -- this is our version of a ginormous joke -- since we have ginormous amounts of these things protruding from the summer garden beds. We've reached that Nirvana time of year when every carrot is at least a foot long and two inches thick, each tomato weighs at least a pound and is loaded with flavor and one green onion is larger than the bunches of five or six green onions sold at the local grocery store.

A Garden Whopper: The Candy Onion

In short? Gardening life is good. It's very good. Every meal features something fresh. And if it doesn't? Someone made a royally bad mistake. Even something a simple as a frozen pizza tastes better with extra toppings of chopped up bell peppers and green onions. And WHY are you eating frozen pizza when you can whip up a garden fresh soup featuring a hodge-podge of fresh this and that?

The frozen pizza can sit and wait in the freezer.

It is indeed harvest time on the Bird Ranch for Wayward Heirloom Tomatoes. The heirlooms are popping. The squash is prolific. Bell peppers make for a sweet and tasty treat. But one of the bigger successes just came out of the ground just last month: one of the largest and sweetest onion harvests we've ever had the pleasure of taking part it.

Bunches and Bunches of Candy Onions

No matter where you turn in the Bird GarageMahal, you're going to run into a Homer five gallon bucket of onions here -- or another five gallon bucket there. Or you just might run smack dab into onion monsters that are hanging and curing from an exposed set of rafters. Short and sweet? We got onions. Lots and lots of onions.

I would have to characterize this year's "onion experiment" with Dixondale Farms in (flat as a) Pancake, Texas a tremendous success. I have never grown onions this huge or this tasty before, and never before in the numbers that we experienced this year. Sure -- there were a few "duds in the bunch." But that's to be expected with just about anything when it comes to gardening (at least for yours truly). But as I began to pull mammoth whopper after mammoth whopper from the ground, I knew this was one of them rare experiments that had totally succeeded.

Onion Starters in February

Excuse me while I cry for a moment. This just doesn't happen often.

Unlike past years, when I would plants onion and garlic bulbs at about the same time of year (October), I waited to order my onion crop. It wouldn't arrive until early February. In the meantime, I educated myself on what I had done wrong in the past. I would come to discover that no onion is like the other. All of them are different. Some grow well in some areas. Others do not.

It was during this research that it dawned on me that purchasing that package of onion bulbs from my local nursery in September or October wasn't the wisest of decisions. Sometimes those packages contained onion bulbs that were not intended for, nor would grow to a large size, in the Sacramento Valley. Why would a nursery or Big Box store do that? Simple! It's the same question as, "why would they sell that Hass Avocado tree" when they know it will perish in our cold Sacramento climate?" Or, "why are they selling tomato plants in February when tomato planting season isn't for another two months?"

Red Candy Apple Onions

Simple! It's because people who don't know any better (see: Bill Bird) will happily fork over $20 for it. And if it dies? That's OK too! Because the people who sold you the wrong kind of onion bulbs or that avocado tree that kicked the bucket know all too well that you'll be back in another couple of months to fork over another $20 in a vain and wasted attempt to correct the problem.

It's called "marketing for dummies."

I finally got around to listening to the patient advice of a South Natomas vegetable gardener who has been at this game a little bit longer than I have, and gave into his suggestion of giving Dixondale Farms the old college try. After reading, and more importantly, understanding the different between "long-day, intermediate-day, short-day" and "Green Day" onions, I finally understood what I'd been doing wrong.

Green Day Onions. KIDDING!!! They're CANDY!

Note: To the uninitiated, there is no such thing as "Green Day" onions. If you ask for them at a nursery, you're likely to earn a howl of laughter or a blank stare. "Green Day" isn't an onion. "Green Day" is a rock-n-roll band.

Short and sweet? If you plant the right kind of onion bulb or onion start, fertilize, water and care for it properly, you will be rewarded with monster-sized onions. Monster sized onions mean monster sized onion rings -- made with a fresh beer batter.

Sure! You can use your onion crop for healthy things like salads and such! There's nothing wrong like that! But only I can tell you the wonderful taste behind taking a healthy thing like a freshly grown onion, dipping it into a batter and dropping it into a vat of hot oil!

Mix in rings procured from a home grown Super Star white onion, add in some beer, flour and salt, and you've got a meal fit for a King or Queen.

Simple Beer Batter Recipe

1 cup beer (the better the beer, the better the onion ring)

1 cup flour

1 egg

1 teaspoon salt

1 teaspoon paprika

1 teaspoon onion or garlic powder

1/2 teaspoon cayenne pepper

Vegetable oil for frying

Onion Rings in Waiting

Mix all items, minus the vegetable oil, together in a bowl until smooth. If the batter does not take on the consistency of a pancake batter, add more beer.

Cut off both ends of an onion (preferably home grown), and proceed to cut into slices anywhere from a half inch to an inch thick. Separate slices into individual rings.

Fill frying pan with raised edges with a half inch of oil and heat to medium-low. Proceed to dip each onion ring into the beer batter, using tongs to add directly to hot oil. Turn when edges turn light brown. Remove from heat when both sides are light brown and drain. Add additional salt, if needed, for taste, or a favorite dipping sauce!

Fathers Day: Corn and Tomatoes

I don't have many memories of dad. The last time I saw him was right before he went into the hospital for a final operation on his pancreas. It was an operation he would not recover from. I was eight the last time I saw dad. He died six months later in San Francisco. I had just celebrated my ninth birthday.

This is one of the few surving photos I have of him -- with my mother -- LOOOONGGG before Bill Bird was even thought of.

What memories I do have are fleeting at best. I don't remember father ever living at home. He was a "weekend dad" by the time I actually got to know him. He left my mother, two sisters and my brother when I was just three. I don't have any memories of this -- except to say that "dad" didn't live at home.

Instead -- dad lived with my "other" mom -- Clara. Although my father often referred to Clara as my "other mom" I certainly never called her that. It was enough to earn a warning glare from Clara's eyes. I don't think she liked me much -- although I do remember that she purchased a pair of flip-flops (which we called "thongs" back in the day) for me once.

It was a rare act of kindness.

But dad and gardening went together like peas in a pod. It was a recent Fathers Day posting from Geno's Garden that brought back memories of my father's garden. Although it was a large garden (the old man would dig up half the yard in the spring) -- it seemed to consist of only two summer-time crops: corn and tomatoes.

If there was more -- then I missed it. But I do know this much: Dad loved his corn on the cob until his dying day. No backyard barbeque was complete without corn on the cob and chunks or slices of freshly harvested tomatoes.

Those summer barbeques serve as my best memories of dad -- that and weekend trips to mountain property that he had recently purchased just north of Jackson (wild and secluded in the late sixties and early seventies -- it now serves as a home to a subdivision built around a golf course).

Dad would pick us up in the morning. He was either holding a beer while driving us kids around or already had been drinking for quite some time despite the early morning hour. Near accidents -- as you might be able to imagine -- were commonplace. But I didn't know any better. I was a six or seven year old kid! And dad was taking us out to the mountains or a barbeque at his house.

It didn't get much better than that.

As we marveled at the corn and tomatoes growing tall in the backyard of his Modesto home -- my brother and I did our very best to impale one another with a challenge game of lawn darts. It was either that -- or chase each other around with croquet mallets (games of croquet or lawn darts always followed barbeques -- a Bird family rule).

Although I seem to remember this period of my life lasting nearly forever -- it was fairly short in terms of real years. My "other mother" Clara would eventually tire of my father's antics -- throwing him out of her house. Trips to the mountain property became more infrequent -- as his time at the Tiki Lounge and other Modesto bars gained precedence and importance over family affairs.

And then -- one day -- my mother sent me off to fifth grade at Standiford Elementary School after coldly informing me that dad had died the night before in a San Francisco hospital. Although I didn't know it then -- it was a sign that childhood was over.

I can only imagine what dad would think of our gardening efforts today. Perhaps he would want an ear or two of freshly buttered corn -- or slices of that heirloom tomato covered with salt, oregano and other herbs. Perhaps he'd like another cold one from the kegerator in the GarageMahal.

My guess is he would want all three.

Although there have been many a barbeque since Andrew Jackson Bird Sr. passed from this place in 1972 -- none have been quite the same.

That Lady Must Read Minds!

Exactly one day after I post a blog entry about processing and canning tomatoes -- what happens?

Debbie Arrington runs a story in the Sacramento Bee about? Processing and canning tomatoes.

She must have read my mind!

It's good stuff and good information if you want to get started this summer on large-scale canning projects.

You can find Debbie's article, "A Jar Full of Summer," here.

Sugar Water and Digital Cameras Do Not Mix

It's quite possible that many of you well retort, "well, no DUH" to the warning that you should never spray equal mixtures of sugar and water on a digital camera.

After doing this during a check of the beehive this weekend (you spray sugar water to keep the bees from flying up and biting you in the keester), I had a digital camera covered with sugary, sticky, GOO!

"No problem," I thought. "I'll just wash it off with some warm water, and everything will be cool!" It was only after washing, did the following question cross my mind: "Hey, are these things waterproof?"

Nope! Now the camera is taking great shots that look like a thick fog bank, and little else. This is why you're getting FABULOUS photos taken with my handy-dandy Samsung phone!

I'm getting just a tad tired of the cool weather that's been overstaying it's welcome in the Sacramento Valley. Yes, I know this cooler weather is causing tomato plants to fruit like nobody's business. I understand that a lot of us have plants loaded with tomatoes. That's good.

But, at some point, you've just gotta have the heat to make a summer garden produce. Tomatoes might be fruiting, but without heat, they're not going to ripen in large numbers. The strawberries will be good, yes, but not quite as good, and the melon plants are anything but happy.

But, one crop starting to produce in fairly large numbers now are the bush beans that Venus planted from seed about a month ago in one of the raised beds. We tried growing these last year, and I'm sad to report that we were the only gardeners on the West Coast who FAILED to grow bush beans.

How can you screw up bush beans? I'm not sure, but Bill and Venus Bird are living proof that "you can."

But that was last year. This year is somewhat different. The beans you see to your left came out of the garden just last night, and made for a tasty side dish to the main, extremely high-class, meal of "Beer Can Chicken."

These things grow fast. I mean, real fast. How fast you say? It's almost like one minute there's nothing there, and the next time you look at the same spot, you've got loads of bush beans.

My early favorite is the "Dragon's Tongue" bush bean. I mean, how can you not like something out of your favorite nightmare? The redish-streaked beans are also easy to spot, which is both good and bad. Why bad? As it turns out, honeybees are attrached to bush bean flowers. And, if you grab a handful of beans, chances are, you've also grabbed a bee or a small army of them.

Ouch.

The bush-bean "haul," our first by the way, also included the standard Italian bean, and two more varieties called "Cherokee" and "Hurricane." This is just a start, of course. The bush beans are now just starting to produce. And soon, the pole beans planted nearby will star producing record numbers as well.

At least, that's the hope. The goal is to can these suckers for later use this winter. I've had more than one person tell me about fist-fights that have erupted over a jar of pickled bush or pole beans.

Time will tell.

The garden is still throwing out lots of interesting produce, including a few tomatoes, but these have been overshadowed recently by the radish discoveries the wife has been making on a daily basis. Last week she pulled up a pink radish the size of a baseball.

This weekend she pulled out two white radishes that, while not quite baseball sized, still managed to raise a few eyebrows. I'm not exactly sure what the wife is doing to that radish and chard seed, but I know this much: I can't argue with the results.

Pray for my crummy digital camera. I might be forced to run out and buy another crummy one. Why not invest in something good? Something that will take decent pictures? Yeah, I could do that. But I know better. Bill Bird is the proverbial bull in a china shop.

In other words, I'll just break it.

On Memorial Day, I Remember Dad

It's Memorial Day.

On this day, we honor the untold millions of men and women who served this country during times of war and peace. We pay our respects to the hundreds of thousands who made the ultimate sacrifice to defend this great nation.

Although I never did serve in the Armed Forces, I know from experience that the freedom we enjoy didn't come cheaply. My family history contains many heroes, on both sides of the family. On Memorial Day, I think of them.

On Memorial Day, I think of Dad: Andrew Jackson Bird.

Would dad approve of my gardening exploits? Are heirloom tomatoes lumpy? Dad's backyard gardens were the stuff of LEGEND. The old man was well known for tilling up half the backyard to plant corn, tomatoes and other vegetables. The memories of summertime cookouts with freshly harvested corn grilling on the barbeque and a game of croquet after dinner will never be forgotten.

I can't tell you exactly when the photo to your left was taken. That's dad with my mother, Doris Marie Bird (who would later change her name to Brown -- but that's another story for another day). Given the age of both, I'm guessing this photo is circa mid 1950's, but to be honest, I can't be sure.

Dad served in the war to end all wars -- the big one -- World War II. I'd like to tell you that he served America with pride, but that wouldn't be exactly correct. Dad served with the Canadian Sixth Army. Why did an American citizen like dad serve with the Canadian Sixth Army? It's another long story, but the long and short of it is, dad wanted IN World War II in the worst way. It was his ticket back to England -- where he was born.

Dad was serving in the U.S. Army when England declared war against Nazi Germany in 1938. It would be almost four years before America got involved, which came with the surprise attack against Pearl Harbor on December 7th, 1941. But in 1938 -- dad wanted in the war. So, as the story goes, one day dad simply left the U.S. base he was serving at. He went AWOL -- Absent Without Leave.

In 1938, Dad made his way across the border with Canada and joined the Canadian Army. Since England was in the war, so was the Commonwealth -- and that meant Canada was at war with Nazi Germany. Some 35 years later, thousands of American boys would flee to Canada to escape the draft and service in Vietnam.

But, in 1938, it was a different story. Dad wasn't the only American to cross the border to join the fight against Facism. He might have been the only person to go AWOL, and he took a big risk in doing so. His citizenship in the United States was actually revoked for the actions he took. It would later be restored after the war ended, and dad came home.

England needed men to guard the beaches against possible Nazi invasion. France had already fallen. The Royal Air Force was battling the Luftwaffe for control of the skies over England, and that fight wasn't going so well at first for the Allies. The Nazi's were preparing to invade. So -- off dad went -- with about six thousand other Canadians and Americans to guard the beaches.

While in England, dad would meet Ruby, his first wife. The photo to your right was taken either right after or right before they were married. Dad was still guarding beaches at this point during the campaign, but the threat of invasion waned as the Royal Air Force recovered and won control of the skies.

Dad would later be captured by Nazi forces during the Dieppe Raid in May, 1942. He spent the rest of the war in a Prisoner of War camp. The first year of confinement may have been his worst. The Nazi's were winning the war. Allied prisoners were not treated well. When the tide of war finally turned a year later, treatment improved.

As much of a hero as my father was, he was not the best husband nor family man. I put that mildly. My dear mother, if she were still alive, would probably have stronger words than that. And it's true that Dad did wind up leaving her for another woman in 1966, leaving mother with four children to raise on her own. Four very young children I might add (I was just three).

In retrospect, it was probably the worst move he ever made. Dad wound up penniless and very much alone when he entered Doctor's Hospital in Modesto for an operation on his pancreas in 1972. He never recovered. Six months later he was dead. I was nine years old -- probably a year or three younger than this photo of fun in the snow at Twain Harte. With me and dad is my older (MUCH OLDER) brother Andy.

Growing up after my father's death wasn't easy. My mother was extremely bitter. I can't blame her. She would repeat this line many times in the ensuing years: "the best thing your father ever did for this family was die." It's a mean thing to say, no doubt, but there's an element of truth in that. His death allowed mother to tap into his Social Security retirement benefits, guaranteeing a source of income that would help raise four children.

But, on Memorial Day, I don't think much of the bad times. I don't think much of the sad times. I remember the backyard barbeques. I remember his expansive vegetable gardens, and how proud he was when it came to harvest fresh corn and tomatoes. I remember games of Lawn Darts and Croquet.

Most of all, I remember dad.

Direct Seed

If you're guessing that you "missed the boat" because you failed to start tomatoes and peppers from seed earlier this year, guess again!

If you've resigned yourself to visiting some nursery this weekend or next and be limited to what they have -- or don't have -- in stock -- don't give in!

You can still grow all the varieties of tomatoes -- cucumbers -- melons -- even pumpkins -- through an easy process called "Direct Seed."

"Direct Seed," you say? "What's that?"

Direct Seed is a fairly simple process where you place seeds directly into a planter cup filled with soil -- setting it in a sunny location that also offers some bottom warmth (this is critical) -- and letting it germinate on its own.

This is just one short project that Venus and I took part in last weekend while I was battling the dreaded Strep Throat. I didn't have much energy or desire to do anything to be completely honest, but direct seed is EASY. And, in no time at all, you can have the varieties of everything you want and more growing in your very own backyard.

That photo to your left? That's the result of a one-hour, direct seeding project. The wife and I found eight or nine old planter cups from past seasons (we tend to save them) -- filled them with planter mix purchased from a nearby nursery (you can also find acceptable planter mix at places like Longs or Rite Aide), drop in a few seeds, label and water.

That's it. Pretty simple stuff eh? Cup, soil, seed: that's all you need.

These starter cups filled with different varieties of watermelon, cantaloupe, cucumbers and pumpkins have already started to sprout. In another two to three weeks, they will be ready for a permanent home. This is the perfect time to plant cucumber or melon seeds because the weather is finally warm, and these are the types of plants that really need warm weather to thrive.

Of course, tomatoes started by the direct seed effort will be a bit behind than the starter plants that were nurtured by indoor growers during the winter months. That's to be expected. But eventually, with time , those direct seed plants will catch up to the early starts, and by the end of the growing season, you won't be able to tell one plant from another.

This is how Venus started varieties of Black Cherry and Kelloggs Breakfast tomatoes last year: Direct Seed. The harvest came a bit later -- but the harvest did eventually come - -and it was well worth the effort.

If you can find a sunny location in your yard -- preferably cement or brick -- you too can "Direct Seed" your garden. The brick or cement surface is crucial to direct seeding efforts. Seedlings LOVE heat and lots of it. When the afternoon sunshine starts to warm those surfaces, starter plants literally jump out of those cups. Plus, the reflecting heat can also aid plant growth once a seedling has broken to the surface.

I discovered this one year -- totally by accident -- when I started tomato plants from seed for the very first time. The starter cups that I had placed on a dirt surface weren't doing nearly as well as the nearby counterparts on a brick surface. I couldn't figure out the disparity until, one day, I was required to sit on the brick. Then it hit me: HEAT.

So -- remember -- cup, soil, seed -- that's all you need!

And Happy Gardening!