To my surprise, my garden did more than break even. My approximately $90 investment produced at least $350 in organic produce, and I’m fairly sure we forgot to write some things down. What really blew my mind was the quantity of “stuff” produced. When you pick 2 ounces of beans here, 4 ounces there, you don’t notice that by the end of the season you have actually picked 7.75 pounds of beans. My seemingly meager harvest suddenly felt more impressive, all the more so considering that it came out of two community garden plots and included a hurricane.

But there are some caveats in these numbers. Since I was growing organic produce, it seemed fair to base its value on farmers’ market/Whole Foods prices—for instance, $3.00 lb. for tomatoes, or $2.50/bunch for chard. If I were really living on a tight budget (let’s be honest here: I’m not), would I really be paying these prices? Hard to say. I also noticed that at least 25 lbs. of the haul (and therefore $44 of the total) came from the peach tree. Fruit trees are one of the best gardening investments you can make, but they require owning land to grow them in. And gardening, especially urban gardening, does require a sizeable upfront investment. Unless you’ve inherited a well-maintained plot in a community garden, you’re most likely looking at purchasing lumber, screws, brackets, and up to 100 lbs. of soil and compost, not to mention the vehicle to transport all this stuff in, before you can put a single seed in the ground.

Still, I’m intrigued with this experiment. This is the first year that I have the entire season in both of my plots, and I’m hopeful. I’ve already spent well over $100, including community garden fees, a new raised bed, seeds, and conduit pipe for a new homemade trellis (that’s another story). My goal is to produce at least 200 pounds of produce on my approximately 200 square feet of gardening space. This year, I’ll be keeping a log from the beginning, and weighing everything, including herbs and lettuces. I’ll be keeping a spreadsheet with farmers’ market rates so I can see a running total of the value. We’re already off to a good start: I’ve already harvested 1.5 lbs. of overwintered leeks, spinach, and carrots.

So much for my own obsessive garden tracking habits. Readers, tell me: do you attempt to track your garden’s cost effectiveness? And if so, how?

Update: By request, I’ve uploaded my spreadsheet here, goofy notes-to-self and all. Feel free to download and make it your own.

We’ve eaten about half of the big ones already, in a slaw, a roasted carrot and beet salad, and as aromatics in yet another lentil stew. The little guys, being too delicate to cook, have found their way into a kimchi. We’re still finding daikon radish at our local farmer’s market, and carrots and radish are a natural pair. This is a quick kimchi that needs only a couple of days instead of the usual three or four to get just the right amount of tang. It’s tasty, too—I’m tempted to buy up all the daikon I can find to have enough to enjoy all summer.

Carrot Daikon Kimchi

Approx. 1/2 lb. carrots, cut into matchsticks (quartered lengthwise if small)
Approx. 1/2 lb. daikon radish, sliced thin (I used the 4 mm blade on my food processor)
3 cloves garlic, thinly sliced
1/2″ quarter ginger root, shredded
1 dried hot pepper
Scallions, if you have them
4 1/2 T kosher salt
6 c. water

1) Dissolve the salt in the water to make a brine.

2) Combine all the vegetables in a quart-sized, wide-mouthed sterilized jar. You may think they won’t fit, but push.  

3) Pour the brine over the vegetables. Remove the air bubbles and convince the vegetables to stay submerged using whatever technique you’d like (I find that a jelly jar filled with brine makes an excellent weight).

4) Put your jar on a saucer (to catch spillover) and let it ferment for 2 to 4 days, depending on your preference, in cool, dark place. You should start seeing bubbles (indicating fermentation) within 12 to 24 hours. Kimchis are happiest when fermenting at 50 to 60°F, but note that the cooler your room, the longer the fermentation will take. Stored in the refrigerator, this will keep at least a month, possibly much longer.

So, that did it. This year, I have decided, will be the year of vinegar pickles. Sure, I’ve got a quart or two of half sours in various stages of fermentation floating around my kitchen, but I’m hoping to can at least half a dozen pints of pure pucker pickles for my winter enjoyment. This is a mixed batch of random vegetables, including the obligatory cucumbers and zucchinis, but the recipe is fairly flexible. You could certainly add cauliflower, beans, celery, asparagus…you get the idea. Ziedrich recommends a 20-minute water-bath processing time for a version that includes mostly easily pickled things (cucumbers, peppers, onions) plus just a few carrots. If you’re planning on using lots of carrots, you’ll probably need to increase the time, but not necessarily by much. Remember, even the sturdy pickled beet only need 30 minutes. In any case, I’m not a carrot-canning expert, so change the vegetable proportions at your own risk. Please, please, please do not change the ratio of water to vinegar, but feel free to add sugar to taste.

Stuff the following things in a pint jar, in more or less the amount recommended:

3 kirby-size cucumbers
About half of a 5″ zucchini or yellow squash, cut into spears
One medium garden carrot, cut into thin spears
2 hot wax peppers, slit down the side
4 jar-length pieces of fennel, with feathers attached
1 clove garlic
1/4 t. peppercorns
1 sprig thyme
1 sprig tarragon

Combine 2 3/4 c. vinegar (I used cider vinegar) with 2 c. water and 1 1/2 T. kosher salt. Bring to a boil. Pour this over your vegetables. You’ll have canning liquid leftover—just stash it in the fridge until the next time you’re ready to assemble another jar of garden delights. Adjust two-piece canning lids and process 20 minutes in a boiling-water bath. You don’t have to wait three years to open them, but do give them at least three weeks to let the vinegar do its work.

You’ve got three basic options: freezing, dehydrating, or canning. More ambitious folks can try fermenting, like I did with my bumper crop of bok choi last year. But let’s stick with the basics here.

Freezing Greens

This is the easiest, and probably the best, solution. It’s very, very easy to freeze greens. You just blanch them, cool them in an ice bath, and freeze. I’ve got step-by-step instructions and photos here. Assuming you’ve got a good freezer, these will keep very well for a year. We used ours all winter in soups, stews, pastas, dips, and even just sauteed with garlic. They shrink dramatically when blanched—plan on about a pound of fresh greens to make about two cups.

For most people, this is the way to go. If, however, you have limited freezer space, you live in an area that experiences frequent power outages, or are planning for a future without electricity, you need other options. Alas, they’re not great. But, you asked, so here goes.

Dehydrating Greens

Are you one of those people who likes to sprinkle seaweed flakes over your rice bowl at the local health food store? Then you might like this. Steam your greens just until they’re wilted. Transfer them to dehydrator trays and dry at a low temperature (say, 110ºF) just until they’re crispy. You’ll want to keep an eye on them—within two hours, mine looked like this:

Now what, you may ask, would you do with dehydrated turnip greens? That’s an excellent question. I rehydrated some with a little bit of room temperature water, and they looked pretty good. The problem was that they had no perceptible taste. In the end, I crumbled them up and stuck them in a spice jar:

I sprinkled an entire leaf’s worth of flakes over a bowl of roasted potatoes and couldn’t tell they were there. I suspect that they’re still fairly nutritious, though, so maybe this isn’t such a bad way to incorporate hearty greens into your diet. I guess.

Canning Greens

The things I do for science.

Yes, it is possible to can hearty greens. It requires a pressure cooker and a processing time of 1 hour, 10 minutes for pints and 1 hour, 30 minutes for quarts. Yes, you read that right. And after you’ve subjected these poor, innocent vegetables to 240ºF to more than an hour, you get this appetizing product:

(And that’s the glamor shot.)

The nutritional value of all of this is questionable. They taste about like you would expect them to. If, however, you have absolutely no other options and feel strongly about having a pantry full of shelf-stable vegetables, this technique will serve you well. But Lordy, do they smell bad. Here’s how you do it.

1) Bring about 3 quarts of water to a boil. You need 2 quarts for the pressure canner, plus some extra to pour over the greens.
2) Steam the greens until wilted. Cut them into manageable pieces.

3) Stuff the greens into canning jars. Add 1/2 t. salt per jar (optional) and cover with boiling water, leaving 1″ headspace. Don’t forget to remove the air bubbles. Adjust two-piece lids.
4) Transfer the jars to a rack on a pressure canner. Pour in 2 quarts of boiling water. Lock the lid into place, but do not place the regulator on the steam vent. Turn on the heat and exhaust steam from the vent for 10 minutes. Then place the regulator on the steam vent and bring the canner to 10 pounds of pressure. Start timing once the regulator starts rocking—70 minutes for pints, 90 minutes for quarts. (If this is confusing, see the step-by-step directions, with pictures, in this post.)
5) Turn off the heat and let the pressure drop of its own accord. When the pressure has dropped, remove the regulator. Now open all your windows. After waiting a few more minutes, open the lid away from your body. The pungent aroma of overcooked turnip greens will fill your house, and you’ll have all the shelf-stable greens you want. Plan on 2 to 5 pounds per pint, depending on the kind of greens involved. Um, yum?

Other ideas?

I kept a few aside for tacos—each one is just about exactly what you’d need for enough garnish for two hungry people—and decided to co-mingle the rest of them in a roasting pan with the brussel sprouts. If you’ve already got the oven on, this couldn’t be easier. The high heat brings out the cabbages’ secret sweetness.

Roasted Cabbage and Brussel Sprouts

About 1 pound of small red cabbages
About 1/2 pound of brussel sprouts
Salt
Olive oil

1) Preheat the oven to 425°F or whatever temperature is convenient.

2) Cut the brussel sprouts and small cabbages in half. If your cabbages are significantly larger than the brussel sprouts, cut them into fourths so everything will cook evenly. Douse everything in olive oil and some salt and arrange in a roasting pan.

3) Roast for about 25 minutes, stirring a few times to make sure nothing’s burning.

Enjoy!

Beans: Let them hang on the plants for a very, very long time, ideally until the pods are brown. You probably won’t want to do this during the middle of the growing season, as it will discourage further bean production. Unless, of course, you’re trying to discourage bean production.

Tomatoes: The jury’s out on whether or not your plants will cross-pollinate. The internets tell me that tomatoes planted close together mostly self-pollinate, but that you should expect a cross-pollination of 5 to 10%. Also, remember that seeds from hybrid plants will not breed true. It’s only worth saving the seeds from heirloom tomatoes. Tomato seeds are encased in a protective coating that needs to be removed before you save the seeds. To do this, squeeze the seeds and pulp into a jar with some water and let it sit a few days. When it’s foamy and smells nasty, you’re done. Pour off the tomato bits and any seeds that float, rinse the remaining seeds in a few washes of water, and transfer them to a plate to dry.

Peppers: Alas, peppers are promiscuous. If you’re growing a bunch of peppers together, or if you garden in a community garden, chances are that your plants have cross-pollinated and the seeds will not breed true. Of course, if you’re interested in hobby plant breeding, save away! Just cut out the seeds and let them dry.

Cukes, zukes, and melons: No idea if they cross-pollinate, since mine almost always die. I did, however, get one gorgeous melon. Melon seeds also benefit from fermentation. Just treat them like tomatoes. Who knows what will sprout from those seeds next year?

Lettuces, arugula, spinach, basil, etc.: Just let them go to seed and collect the dried flowers.

Potatoes and sweet potatoes: Set a few aside for next year.

Flowers: Cut off the heads of some you like and dry them.

These are the only things that I’ve tried, but I’m curious to hear your experiences. Any words or caution or wisdom?