|Late blight on Romas: Courtesy of Cornell Cooperative Ext.|
Thursday, July 26, 2012
If you like it then you'd better put a ring on it
Yes, I heard the forecasts of late blight. And no, I didn’t do much about it. But on my trip to the garden today to pick tomatoes for my husband’s birthday dinner—bless him, he said all he wanted for his birthday dinner was a freshly-picked tomato and basil pasta salad—I had a terrible discovery. Many of the early heirloom tomatoes had been infected with blight.
Insert necessary obscenities not fit to print.
So I looked around. I weeded out the heirloom fruit that had clearly been infected and threw them far, far away. It seems that only my early heirlooms have suffered (knock on proverbial wood); the Celebrity variety, my Romas, Beefsteak, Early Girl, and questionable half-breed volunteers don’t seem to be, as yet, infected. I picked the heirlooms that were ready, as well as those that were almost ready, and those that were green but soft. One can, by the way, eat a soft green tomato—many heirloom varieties are bred that way, and they are quite tasty. The pasta salad including the heirloom green fruit was delicious.
I am quite worried, however, about my garden situation. I remember when late blight swept through in the summer of 2009—after many efforts to save my crops, and then finally my soil, in any way I could, I ended up uprooting my tomato, eggplant, pepper, and potato plants; piling them; and burning them. Blight is a fungus, and spreads through its airborne spores. It is insidious and devastating. Some have hypothesized (hopefully) that one can avoid blight through row covers, yet this doesn’t seem to be net enough against the spores; others have turned to specifically timed planting to prevent rot. Cornell Cooperative Extension suggests that one should plant a seed that is genetically immune to such diseases, or to treat your crops with targeted anti-fungal sprays and pesticides. This is very effective for the large-scale commercial gardener.
See earlier posts for my view on this approach for the family garden.
If you too are finding yourself in this situation, or you live in a place that is expecting a blight, my advice is to use those green tomatoes. You can do so fresh— I would just lightly fry green tomato slices in olive oil, coat them in battered egg whites (three should do for a few large tomatoes) and then dip them in whole wheat bread crumbs, fry them again until crispy brown, and have them for breakfast.
However, if your green tomato harvest would consist of more fresh veg than you could eat—or if you like your produce all year round—it’s time to take Beyonce’s advice and put a ring on it.
A canning ring.
Even if your tomatoes are not ripe, there are several delicious ways to prepare—and can—green tomatoes. A simple google search will give lots of ideas. Outside of that, here is one from antiquity—from my favorite cookbook , the Fannie Farmer:
Green Tomato Relish
2 quarts chopped green tomatoes
Cover, let stand 24 hours, and drain.
1 tsp pepper
1 ½ tsp mustard
1 ½ tsp cinnamon
½ tsp allspice
1 ½ tsp ground cloves
¼ cup white mustard seed
1 quart mild cider vinegar
2 red or green peppers, sliced
1 chopped onion
Bring to a boil and cook 15 min. Hot pack into quarts.
Or, I would simply finely dice a few tomatoes. Measure them in a cup measure, and put them in a saucepan. Pour water into the saucepan until it covers the fruit with about an inch to spare. Add twice as much sugar in cups as there was fruit (or substitute fresh honey, and quarter the amount). Throw in some pineapple or apples if you feel creative (minced!). Boil it down (stirring pretty often) until there is almost no liquid left, and hot pack it.
(Sidenote: if anyone does not know what hot packing is, please do not be intimidated, it is incredibly easy. It simply means putting a boiling, sterilized substance into a sterilized jar that has been boiled. To hot pack:
Bring a big pot of water (like 10 quarts) to boil and submerge all the jars and lids you will use, as well as the business part of a stainless steel ladle. Let this jar-water-mix achieve a boil and then turn the heat off—they will continue to boil for quite a few minutes. Retrieve your materials from the water with long metal tongs and place them on a sterile surface.
In another pot, bring the mixture you plan on canning to a boil (this is almost always already done in the cooking process). Using that sterilized ladle (and a couple of oven mitts), ladle your mixture into the jars leaving about ½ space between the top of the mixture and the top of the jar, on average. Screw the sterilized top on. (Keep using those oven mitts.)
Once you are done with all of the jars, drop them back into that 10 quart pot, making sure the jars are vertically standing, aren’t touching and that there is at least one inch of water above the top of each jar. Turn the water back on and boil for about five minutes. Turn the burner off. When water is still steaming, retrieve (VERY CAREFULLY!) the jars with oven mitts and metal tongs. Set them on a flat cool surface. When you hear a pop! you know the jar has sealed. Just to make sure, press down on the center of the jar. If it gives at all, it has not sealed. If it is solid, feel safe to label it with a sharpie and store it in your pantry.)
However, if your fruit does not yet show signs of blight, cross your fingers and feel temporarily safe. One can, however, take preventative measures: in addition to crossing one’s fingers, staking tomato plants seems to be effective as it allows air flow to better circulate. Additionally, constant monitoring helps: if you see blight, get it the hell outta there.
On the bright side, whenever I have spotted a delectable fruit with only a small spot of blight on it, I have no compunction about carving it out and eating the rest. Delicious.