Hardy Garden Primroses

Primadonna Primroses Of The Past

I was recently asked to write more about collectors’ primroses; here are excerpts from an article I wrote some twenty years ago that pretty much covers the topic. It’s fun to look back and remember my dear garden where so many plant marvels were adoringly grown. Today, these species and heritage varieties are still to be found, having outlasted many new varieties bred for quick color rather than garden longevity. I know it’s long, but it’s only part of a far longer piece. I know, really? Enjoy!

The Primrose Path

To anyone raised on English children’s books, the word spring conjures up an artless jumble of primroses, violets, and celandines, with perhaps a cheerful hedgepig peeping through the leaves. This mental association of primroses and England is quite common and has lead to an assumption that American gardeners living beyond the mild, maritime regions of Pacific Northwest can only raise primulas under glass. Though it is no coincidence that most primrose specialty nurseries and the bulk of the membership of the American Primrose Society are to be found there, hardy garden primulas are successfully being grown all across the country.

Indeed, though gardeners in frigid Alaska may indeed be growing fancy auriculas in greenhouse or windowsill, they may equally well be growing native species or alpine primulas in their open gardens, for more hardy primroses are lost to the mugs of August than the frosts of winter. In warmer parts, the subtropical fairy primrose, Primula malacoides, blooms from winter into spring, and P. obconica may proffer its pink and purple flowers all year round. While not every primrose is for every garden, it might prove hard to find a garden where no primula could thrive.

Wild And Tame Treasures

My own initial impression that primroses were delicate creatures was dispelled by finding them growing along icy Rocky Mountain streams and carpeting stony natural garden rooms in the High Sierra. Wider travelers have discovered some six hundred members of the Primulaceae, so many that this great genus has been subdivided into thirty sections. Most are found scattered throughout the temperate parts of the northern hemisphere, but a scant handful of southern primroses, best known to us as greenhouse plants, hail from the tropics of Capricorn. In the wild, primulas enjoy an astounding variety of conditions, some clinging to the stern faces of sheer mountain cliffs, others demurely decorating lowland water meadows.

In the garden, however, these beautiful perennials often prove less cooperative, if no less adaptable. I had heard that the rosy, hairy-leaved Japanese Primula kisoana demanded shade and moist, leafy soil, but my original plant sulked in what seemed an ideal spot, sending thickets of runners into the loose coffee bean mulch of the sunny path, where its furry offspring still appear in droves each spring. The white form, said to be even pickier, proliferates happily in its shady bed, but also runs out into the sun, tucking itself between tufts of variegated Japanese iris. An American species, Primula parryi, grows far better in a fairly dry bed beneath an old apple tree than under a weeping willow along our stream, despite its preference for dampness in the wild.

How To Succeed

The keys to garden success with primulas seem to be flexibility–the willingness to experiment with site and soil–and patience. This last is especially valuable, since many wonderful species are most readily available as seed. Fortunately, most primulas are quite easy to raise from seed, which gives you a nice crop of younglings to try in various positions until you learn their preferences. Though exact requirements vary a bit from section to section, most primroses prefer that elusive ideal, a well-drained, moist soil. To this end, we will usually need to amend our natural soils, adding humus for better texture and water retention, compost to buffer the Ph, and grit or coarse builder’s sand to lighten heavy soils and improve drainage. Where summers are hot, stones, mulch, and protective
shrubs will provide cool root runs as well as shade from midday sun.

While all primroses appreciate moisture during active growth, a few, like the Himalayan drumsticks, P. denticulata, tend to rot where winters are wet. To avoid this, primrose fanciers often mulch their plants with stone chips, which works fine in a rock garden but may prove too obtrusive in mixed borders or wild gardens. In such situations, adding an extra helping of grit to the planting pocket and providing shelter, in the form of evergreen shrubs and trees, from prevailing winds will be helpful. So long as the soil mixture is rich enough in humus, dry summers rarely threaten the health of mature plants, though evergreen varieties may turn brown and tatty in a prolonged drought. Where summers tend to be dry, an hydrophilic polymer may be blended into the soil along with the grit (this is not a good idea with primulas that prefer dry winters, however).

Made For The Shade

A further requirement shared by all but a few bog primulas is shade. The amount and kind of shade wanted will vary by genus section as well as by your geographic region, for an alpine auricula that flourishes in almost full sun in my cool Seattle-area garden may need considerable shade to do as well in North Carolina. In any garden, the quality of the shade is important, for few primroses will tolerate dense shade, and all bloom best when receiving plenty of light and air.

The high shade cast by the upper limbs of tall trees in woodland gardens suits many European and Asian woodland species nicely. Most alpine primroses, as well as the subtropicals, prefer full morning and afternoon sun, hiding from the hot midday sun in the partial shade cast by rocks or shrubs. Meadow dwellers (as well as most woodlanders) appreciate the filtered shade found in mixed borders which hold a good percentage of mature shrubs and small trees.

Naturally Good Company

Because they are informal in shape and habit, primulas look more natural in casually mixed company than in formal bedding schemes (fancy auriculas are an obvious exception, but these are nearly always grown in pots). Given the right companions, even exotic species can appear thoroughly at home in American gardens. We can find good company for our primulas among the ranks of native spring blooming wild flowers such as hepaticas, spring beauty (Claytonia virginica), and blue bells (Mertensia virginica). Aroids like our native jack-in-the-pulpit (Arisaema triphyllum) or the southern A. dracontium contribute curious flowers and dramatic foliage to the primula beds, as does the eastern native Mayapple (Podophyllum peltatum).

We can also take a tip from the English hedgerows and mix in sweet violets and lesser celandines (Ranunculus ficaria), of which there are many delightful forms. Mossy saxifrages bloom well in half shade, as will the diminutive Astilbe chinensis ‘Pumila’, with its frilly foliage and mauve flowerspikes. The host of shade tolerant foliage plants such as hostas and ferns blend comfortably with primroses and provide lasting textural interest as well. Evergreen ferns and perennials, perhaps Helleborus foetidus or dainty rosettes of Bergenia ciliata, make good place markers for deciduous Asian primulas like the lacy-petaled Primula sieboldii which have long dormant periods that make them vulnerable to forgetful gardener’s meddling. Candelabras and other bog primulas consort pleasantly with water iris, Canadian tiger lilies (Lilium canadensis), closed and bottle gentians, and skunk cabbage.

Section Vernales

The most adaptable and easy going of the clan are the vernal primroses, a large clan of European garden and meadow primulas which bloom from late winter through spring. These include the chalk yellow true primrose, Primula vulgaris, as well as the nodding yellow cowslips (P. veris) and oxlips (P. elatior) which decorate English meadows and lanes, as well as the bright-eyed polyanthas. All of these thrive in mixed borders, tucked under shrubs or grouped informally along lightly shaded pathways.

Vernal primroses have crinkled, evergreen foliage which suffers in summer drought, but some forms, notably P. x polyanthus, repay summer watering with an autumn crop of flowers, and may bloom straight through a mild winter. In good garden soil, vernals may need dividing every few years. Congested crowns may be gently teased apart into many small plants. The smallest scrap of root that also has a leaf will grow, but the woody, central part should be discarded.

Whose Lips?

Cowslips and oxlips are easily confused in garden settings, where exposure to other vernals has produced lovely hybrids with orange, copper and red flowers. The cowslip (Primula veris, zone 3) has slim stems from which dandle soft bunches of tubular, cupped flowers of clear yellow that smell like spring, each with a loose fitting green calyx. It blooms in March and April, and is unusually tolerant of dry soils. The oxlip (Primula elatior, zone 3) is similar, except that its stems are taller, its flowers are upfacing and lack the characteristic primrose scent.

The true primrose, Primula vulgaris (zone 3), has solitary, wide-eyed flowers, usually soft yellow, on short stems, coming into bloom with the first thaws. Its many forms, both single and double, come in dozens of colors, from vivid reds and blues through faded denim, terra cotta and buff to soft white. Primula x polyantha (zone 3) is a bunch-flowered version with hundreds of variations, including a number of antique forms created centuries ago. Gold and silver laced primulas have a thin rim of white or yellow that encircles and divides each deep-toned petal, while Jack-in-the-green primroses are framed by a large ruff-like calyx. The calyx of a hose-in-hose primrose mimics the flower form and color, looking as if one flower were fitted into another.

Whew!

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Welcome Kalettes & Cousinly Crosses

Who Can Resist These Ruffled Beauties?

After a decade or so of acclaim, kale needs neither introductions nor accolades. However, some delicious, new-to-the-family crosses are just hitting nurseries, markets, and high-end restaurants this year, notably kalettes. As I mentioned in an earlier post, these ruffled, purple-veined darlings are the offspring of an arranged marriage of kale and Brussels sprouts, two of my all-time favorite vegetables. So far, kalettes come in three varieties: Autumn Star matures early, Mistletoe is a mid-season cropper, while Snowdrop is for late winter harvest.

In each form, tall stalks are studded with adorable baby sprouts, which are surrounded in turn by frilly foliage (think kale) splashed with flashes of fuchsia and purple. Gorgeous on the plate, the foliage and/or plump rosettes can be roasted, sauteed, lightly steamed or enjoyed raw in salads (slice them in half or quarter them). Indeed, they’ve been featured in a number of magazine and cookbook glam shots that will probably put these pretty puppies on the top of the pop charts in no time flat.

Sourcing The Seed

Neither kalettes nor any of the other crosses I’ll mention are gene-spliced GMOs; instead they are carefully hand bred using time honored techniques. Partly in response to agri-monster corporations that contaminate seed lines and food crops with GMOs, a new band of artisan breeders has arisen. These inspired people work by patiently crossing individual plants to create new ones with even more desirable characteristics, then grow out the best of the results to develop reliable seed strains.

Uprising Organics (http://uprisingorganics.com) is one such local group, a dedicated bunch of farmers who devote their lives to preserving and improving food crops and open pollinated seed lines. They themselves grow most of the seed they sell, and what isn’t home grown is carefully sourced to keep the quality as high as possible. Similarly, small-scale hand breeders up and down the coast (and around the country) are working to refresh and purify classic tomato and potato varieties, among many other crops. These folks combine lofty ideals with practical goals, notably the development of ever-more-delicious vegetables.

A Close Knit Family

The cole clan intermarries readily, which is a wonderful thing, considering the variety and quality of its many crosses, each of which offers a distinctive twist on the mama plants. One of my favorites for the past few seasons has been another kale/Brussels sprout cross called Flower Sprouts Petit Posy. Not surprisingly, it’s very similar to kalettes, the foliage having the earthy warmth of kale and the sprouts inheriting a somewhat lighter, fresher version of the lush, deep Brussels sprout flavor. A stunning kale/broccoli cross called Purple Peacock is beautiful enough to be a border plant. Its deep purple stems are tipped with broccolini-like florets, while the young, pink and purple stained foliage is wonderful raw in salads, sauteed, or steamed with other greens (an a little olive oil, garlic and lemon does no harm at all).

An Italian variety, Broccoli Spigariello Liscia, is a leafy broccoli that produces tender little heads like those of broccoli raab, along with tasty foliage with the sweetness of kale/cabbage crosses such as Lacinato and Tuscan Black kale. Broccoli also crosses readily with Gailon, a Chinese broccoli with slender stems and smaller florets. Several recent introductions of this mating are hitting the nurseries, sometimes sold as Brokali. Broccoli x Gailon Happy Rich, a fall cropper, combines broad, substantive foliage with chunky, raab-like floret-heads, both of which are delicious raw, steamed, grilled, and sauteed. Last season, we pigged out on Asparabroc, another  Broccoli/Gailon cross with mild, almost succulent foliage, clusters of tender florets, and asparagus-like stalks. If you harvest the main head, several side shoots will follow in short order.

Sauce For the Goose

Here are a few basic treatments that will help you fall in love with any of these splendid cole family creations. There are so many great ways to enjoy these veggies that it’s almost impossible to go wrong. The worst you could do to coles is to overcook them; almost anything else will have a desirable outcome.

Best Ever Basic Broccoli

4 cups broccoli florets
1/4 teaspoon sea salt

Put broccoli in a steamer basket over boiling water, cover pan, reduce heat to medium and steam for 3 minutes. Immediately plunge broccoli into a bowl of very cold water and let cool for about 10 minutes (about to room temperature). Drain well and serve with a sprinkle of sea salt. Addictive!

Super Sprout Salad

2 cups sliced sprouts (any of the above)
2 cups sliced Crimini mushrooms (or any kind you prefer)
2 tablespoons avocado oil (or olive oil)
1 tablespoon fresh lime juice
1 tablespoon flaked nutritional yeast (optional)
1 teaspoon maple syrup
1/4 teaspoon sea salt
2 cups chopped Romaine lettuce
1 cup grapefruit sections, peeled and chopped
1 Opal or Honeycrisp apple, diced
4 green onions, thinly sliced
1/4 cup stemmed cilantro OR Italian parsley
1/4 cup coarsely chopped roasted almonds or hazelnuts

In a serving bowl, gently toss sprouts and mushrooms with oil, half the lime juice, nutritional yeast (if using), maple syrup, and salt and let stand for 15-20 minutes. (This marinade “pre-cooks” the sprouts and mushrooms and mellows them considerably.) Add remaining ingredients, toss gently and serve. Serves 4-6.

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Kalettes, Wasabi and Colorful Cauliflower

Grow The Newest Trendy Foods At Home

I work at the local library, a dream job if there ever was one. As I soft and shelve books, I notice that the balance of most-checked-out books is shifting from cook books to gardening books. That reflects the turning of the year’s tide as days grow just a bit longer and softening rains prepare beds for planting. However, plenty of foodie books are still circulating, especially those having to do with unusual vegetables. That amazing savant, Yotam Ottolenghi, author of Plenty, my favorite vegetarian cookbook so far, has come out with yet another masterpiece of vegetable bliss.

Ottolenghi’s newest book, Plenty More, is packed with tantalizing pictures of gorgeous vegetable dishes that beg to be made. Watercress features largely in this collection, including an amazingly delicious raw vegetable salad also involving cauliflower, French breakfast radishes, asparagus, peas and fresh basil. Yikes! His recipe for crunchy roots calls for rutabagas, turnips, kohlrabi, and carrots tossed with a zippy dressing that’s lively with cilantro and pomegranate seeds.

Fresher From Your Garden

Here in the maritime Northwest, we can harvest many root crops clear through the winter, storing them in the ground instead of in the pantry. I’m still enjoying slender, tender-crisp carrots that were sown last fall, as well as the final few potatoes and beets, and the last of the kale is still delicious as well. Though foodies are now declaring kale to be so last year, it’s still tops on my table, especially the various forms of Italian heritage kales. My top fav is still Black Magic, a kale/cabbage cross with crinkled leaves and a sweet, earthy flavor. I also love Portugese Beira, whose wide leaves look like jade porcelain and make amazing cabbage rolls.

Though temporarily trendy, there’s a reason that kale has been a staple plant in many cultures for hundreds if not thousands of years. Handsome, tasty, healthful and easy to grow, kale lasts through winter’s cold snaps and tastes even sweeter when dug out of a snowy bed. That’s why there are dozens of kinds of kale, from Nagoya White and Peacock Red to Petit Posy, a recent kale/Brussels sprouts cross with flavorful leaves and plump little rosettes.

The Newest Cover Girls

Those ruffled, pink-and-purple-tinged Petit Posy sprouts show up in Ottolenghi’s new book, causing several readers to ask me where on earth those adorable sprouts might be found. They are perhaps rivaled only by kalettes, a new kale/Brussels sprout cross resulting in adorably frilly little critters that taste as good as they look. So far,  three kalette introductions are available;  green-and-purple Autumn Star,  mid-winter Mistletoe, and late-season Snowdrop.

Cauliflower is closing in fast on kale as the new chef’s favorite, and it’s about time. I often roast cauliflower in a little avocado oil with raw cranberries, then toss them with sea salt and coconut aminos for a stunningly flavorful side (actually it’s my entire meal when eating alone). The colorful cauliflowers offer a wider range of those healthy cole family nutrients, and besides, they are gorgeous in raw salads. Dazzling Graffiti Purple, a summer-into-fall header, has been joined by Purple Cape, a winter header that brings fresh snap to the table in the darkest months. Creamsickle orange Sunset is also lovely and tasty raw but the color fades with heat.

Waking Up Overwintered Wasabi

I totally forgot to bring in or protect my pot of wasabi and figured it was toast after the hard frosts we’ve had, but when I was clearing the deck, I noticed that the pot is packed with bright, fresh green leaves. I’m moving it up to an even bigger pot with a wide, deep saucer to keep those roots reliably moist. An aquatic horseradish (and kale) cousin, wasabi prefers to grow by streams but accepts damp shade as well. Real wasabi is a culinary marvel, utterly unlike the gummy green paste offered in most sushi bars. Both the rhizome and the big, heart-shaped foliage have an astonishing pungency that blows the glop out of the water.

Freshly grated wasabi is a delicate, baby ribbon green, with a bright, sharp heat that sings in the mouth, but it’s a fleeting song. Within minutes, the grated rhizome loses its warmth and power, so it’s only outrageously delicious when absolutely freshly prepared, preferably at the table. (A fine microplane is perfect for grating fresh wasabi.) Luckily, you can store the harvested root in the fridge, wrapped in clean cheese cloth and set in a bowl with a little water. It will keep for up to two weeks, so you can grate just a bit at a time as needed.

A Waiting Game

Wasabi’s heart-shaped foliage and slim stems are also tasty raw or lightly steamed. Don’t harvest too much foliage from a young plant, however, or you’ll end up robbing the slower-growing root, which is of course the main event. The roots need a couple of seasons to reach harvest size, and you can tuck the smaller offshoots back in for another crop.

Half-hardy, wasabi can take a few degrees of frost but may be killed by prolonged, deep freezes, so they are best overwintered in a greenhouse in colder areas. In England, wasabi is commercially grown in open streams, along with watercress, where the running water protects the root from hard frost. Here on Bainbridge Island, wasabi planted decades ago has colonized the banks of Issei Creek as it runs through Bainbridge Gardens Nursery half a mile from my home.

Raw Spring Salad With Wasabi Greens

2 cups baby spinach
1 head butter lettuce, pulled in pieces
1 cup pea tendrils
1 cup thinly sliced wasabi foliage and stems
1 cup raw asparagus, thinly sliced on the diagonal
1 cup chopped cucumber
1/4 cup chopped toasted almonds
1 tablespoon avocado oil
1 teaspoon plain rice vinegar
1/4 teaspoon sea salt

Combine all ingredients, toss gently and let stand 10 minutes before serving. Serves 4.

Poached Salmon With Fresh Wasabi

1 pound salmon fillet, cut in four pieces
1/4 teaspoon sea salt
1 inch fresh wasabi root
1 tablespoon minced basil

Place salmon skin side down in a wide, shallow pan and sprinkle with half the salt. Add water to bring the liquid depth to about 1/4 inch. Bring to a boil over medium high heat, cover pan, reduce heat to low and cook to an internal temperature of 136 degrees F (about 6-7 minutes). Remove from heat and let stand for 10 minutes. Grate the wasabi, blend quickly with the basil and remaining salt, add a teaspoon of the paste to each serving of fish and serve immediately. Serves four.

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Zipping Up Winter Vegetables

Rockin’ Roots & Kicky Coles

Years ago, I was discussing winter gardening with Steve Solomon. We were both writing for Sasquatch Press in those days, and his book Growing Vegetables West Of The Cascades was game changing for me and many others. Steve explained that his family was able to live on just what they grew themselves. I was wildly impressed and said so, but his wife gave me a wry grin and said “In winter, we eat a lot of cabbage.”

Well, yes. There is that. Cabbage is marvelous stuff, but day after day… it could get a little old. The same can be said for all the winter roots, as our ancestors knew full well. Cabbage, carrots, potatoes, onions, all that their root cellars could hold might (hopefully) last out the winter, but you can bet that by spring everybody was mighty  glad to get a taste of something fresh and green.

Blessed Abundance

In a day when many of us can eat almost anything from anywhere in the world any day of the year, it’s hard to imagine just how uninspiring that limited diet might get to feel. It seems ironic that those of us who try to eat seasonally are embracing at least a certain amount of dietary restriction that our forebears might have thought distinctly odd. If they could have enjoyed fresh asparagus and raspberries in winter, you can bet they would have done so with relish. The fact that the term “fresh” is very relative (how old is that asparagus, really?), and that those choice tidbits may have been grown halfway around the world would probably have been seen as utterly irrelevant.

We, however, have both the luxury of exotic choice and an amazing bounty of fresh, local foods to choose amongst, more than any previous generation in the history of the world. Thus, we can enjoy our daily cabbage (or cole relative) spiced with the satisfaction of knowing ourselves to be well fed while lightening (at least a little) our burden on the earth.

Love The One You’re (Blessed) With

All this is really an excuse to share some of my current favorite recipes with you. The truth is, I love cabbage. And broccoli. And Brussels sprouts. And kale (but you knew that). I also love potatoes, carrots and onions, perhaps immoderately. I love playing with these favorite foods and finding new ways to delight in them that my ancestors could probably not even imagine. Such as….

Best Ever Broccoli

This stuff is decidedly addictive. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

Bright Winter Broccoli

1 pound broccoli, cut in florets
1 tablespoon avocado oil
1 teaspoon unsalted butter
1/2 yellow onion, thinly sliced
3 cloves garlic, chopped
1/4 teaspoon sea salt
1 clementine, sectioned and peeled
1/4 cup diced apple (Opal or Gala or…)
2 tablespoons caramelized onions
1/4 teaspoon freshly ground pepper

Steam broccoli for 3 minutes, plunge in cold water, drain, set aside. In a saute pan, heat oil and butter over medium heat until it sizzles. Add onion, garlic and salt and cook for 3 minutes. Add remaining ingredients (including broccoli), heat through and serve. Serves 2-4.

Jewel Burst Cauliflower

1 tablespoon avocado oil
1 head cauliflower, cut in florets
1 cup raw cranberries (frozen work fine)
1 Cara Cara orange, sectioned and peeled
1/4 teaspoon sea salt
1/8 teaspoon hot smoked paprika
1 lime, quartered

Preheat oven to 400 degrees F. Pour 1 tablespoon oil in a rimmed baking sheet, add cauliflower and cranberries and rub with hands to coat. Sprinkle with salt and roast at 400 F until lightly caramelized (30-35 minutes). Toss with orange sections, paprika and remaining oil and serve, garnished with lime wedges. Serves 2-4.

Baked Potato Cakes

1 pound Yukon Gold potatoes, chopped *
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 tablespoon unsalted butter
1 tablespoon avocado oil
1/4 cup grated Asiago or Parmesan cheese
1/4 teaspoon freshly ground pepper

Preheat oven to 400 degrees F. Cook potatoes until fork tender in water to cover. Drain and mash with remaining ingredients. Shape into balls (about 1/4 cup each), pat gently into circles and bake at 400 F until crisp and brown (15-20 minutes). Serve hot. Serves 2-4.

* Peeled or not, at your pleasure (if organically grown, I leave the peels on).

Hearty Carrot Soup

1 tablespoon avocado oil
1 large onion, chopped
3 cloves garlic, chopped
1/4 teaspoon sea salt
3 stalks celery, chopped
2 medium yellow potatoes, chopped (see * note above)
1 pound plump carrots
2 tablespoons flaked nutritional yeast (optional)
1/4 teaspoon sweet paprika
1/2 cup plain yogurt (optional)
1/2 cup diced apple (Honeycrisp or Braeburn)

In a soup pot, heat oil, onion, garlic and salt over medium heat and cook for 5 minutes. Add celery, potatoes and carrots, cover pan, reduce heat to medium low and cook until well sweated (8-10 minutes). Add water to cover by an inch, bring to a simmer and cook until very tender (20-30 minutes). Puree with an immersion blender and season to taste with nutritional yeast and paprika. Serve hot, garnished with yogurt and/or chopped apple. Serves 4.

Love it? Hate it? Let me know…

 

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