photo contest: blue ribbon herbs

Garden Bytes from the Big Apple announces our first photo contest: culinary herbs in the garden.

Chives (Allium shoenoprasum) in a community garden in Riverside Park, NYC. I use both the flowers and the chopped leaves in omelets and the dried flowers to decorate an allium themed summer hat.

We two Ellens are appreciative eaters and we're especially fond of cooking what we grow. We wouldn't dream of having a garden without a healthy complement of culinary herbs. But these tasty plants aren't merely edible...some of them are downright gorgeous.

Creeping Rosemary (Rosmarinus officinalis, prostrate group) in California. No originality here, I love rosemary on lamb.

If you agree, and if you'd like to show us your most photogenic herbs, here's how you can enter. Post your best image to your own blog, website, or web gallery. Then, in the comment section for this post, post a link to your entry. If you're posting your image to a blog, please reference our contest with a link.

Our talented and entirely impartial judge is Joe De Sciose. Joe is an award-winning photographer whose photographs have appeared in numerous Condé Nast, Hearst and Meredith magazines and books, as well as in print media for the New York Botanical Garden and The Brooklyn Botanic Garden. From 2003 to 2008, Joe was a Senior Staff Photographer at Southern Living Magazine. He was the sole photographer for Garden Guide: New York City (The Little Bookroom, 2002) and The Flower Gardener’s Bible (Storey Books, 2003), which was awarded a Garden Globe Award in 2004 by the Garden Writers Association for Best Photography for a Garden Book.

Nasturtium, a spicy member of the watercress family, in a half barrel with geraniums. I use nasturtium flowers and leaves for a tasty garnish on anything from cold soups to desserts.

THE RULES:

1) You may enter up to three photographs.
2) Include the names for the herb(s) in your image; extra credit if you give both the botanical and common names.
3) Write a brief caption (1 or 2 sentences) telling us your favorite way to use the herb in cooking.
4) Points given for light, composition, and originality. We're not looking for closeups; we want to see the herb(s) in a garden setting.
5) Remember, gardens can be indoors OR outdoors! This is NYC after all, and we don't all have outdoor gardens of our own.
6) We're not limiting this contest to New York City gardens because we have so many readers from away, but extra points will be given to photos showing herbs in an urban setting.
7) The contest ends at midnight on August 5, 2009.

Indoor herb garden on my livingroom window sill: from left back row, oregano, basil, variegated sage, front row from left, tiny bush basil, and cilantro.

We'll announce the winner in our Byte Now Column on August 12, 2009. And the lucky winner will receive a goody bag of prizes including: 'The New Book of Salvias' by Betsy Clebsch, a pair of garden gloves (women's size, sorry guys), and bypass pruners by OXO.

ESP's images and captions (throughout this post) should give you a good idea of how to start!

Bronze fennel (Foeniculum vulgare) at the Queens Botanical Garden, herb section. Use leaves, seeds, flowers or stems in corn bread stuffing.

Calendula (Calendula officinalis) borders vegetable beds in George Washington's garden on a misty morning at Mt. Vernon. I use petals of calendula to garnish salads, and to color and flavor white rice.

We plan to make this a regular feature at Garden Bytes. Hint: you might want to start photographing your photogenic pets in the garden. Meow.

Excuse me, could I please borrow your water tower?

In college I majored in 19th century comparative history and literature of England and France. (Practical, you say? Just wait.) It was then I first heard the phrase "borrowed scenery", a concept vaguely relevant to grand estate gardens as described by George Eliot, Jane Austen, Charles Dickens, etc. Turns out the idea of borrowed scenery is originally Japanese, but it's just as significant in a 21st century NYC garden as it was 1000 years ago in Kyoto, or 200 years ago in the English countryside.

People usually think of borrowed scenery as pastoral and sweeping, incorporating a distant mountain, a classic ruin, or the Potomac River (below) into the view from your garden.


In NYC, borrowed scenery takes on a whole new meaning.


See, I have a thing for water towers. When I first moved to NYC (many MANY years ago) I used to go up to the roof of my building at night and lie there, looking at all the water towers. They are a New York City icon, yet most of us take them for granted.

Now that I spend most of my days on rooftops, I have plenty of opportunity to admire the various shapes and sizes of surrounding water towers, and I find they sneak up on you. At first glance you don't see any, then you spot one, then another, until you realize there were 6 or 7 in your field of vision all along. I've found 12 in this one photo, can you? (Click on the image to enlarge.)


It's not just the water towers themselves (gray, aged wood, simple, sturdy, functional, sculptural, tall & slim, squat & fat, adding their own special geometry to the NY skyline) but how they combine with the rooftop gardens that surround them. It's the same quality that fascinates me on The High Line: industrial and urban architecture juxtaposed with living, moving, growing plants.


Of course a rooftop garden in NYC is mighty fine to begin with, but why not follow in the steps of Capability Brown & Tachibana Toshitsuna and borrow a little scenery to make it even better! Just as you might place a shrub or put up a fence to hide an ugly pipe or HVAC unit, so can you position a tree or erect a pergola to direct the gaze toward that wooden bastion of the NYC skyline: the water tower.

EDIBLE FLOWERS & HERBS

A few decorative edibles from my garden decorating a rich chocolate cake: day lily buds, borage flowers, lavender, roses, bachelor buttons, mint, variegated pineapple mint, and bronze fennel.

When we say that flowers are edible, that doesn't mean they're all equally tasty. Beautifully perfumed roses taste better than roses with little scent; sweet smelling lavenders taste better than those with a camphorous aroma. And even then, its the petals or buds that are tasty, not the stem, the recptical, or the calyx. People who have allergies shouldn't eat the stamens and the pollen parts.

I'm particularly annoyed by pretentious chefs who decorate a plate with small orchids or other flowers straight from a tradtional florist. The grower has sprayed them within an inch of their lives.
When they come from your own garden, that of a friend, or a trusted organic source, you have full control over what you put on your table.

More flowers & herbs, home-grown, organic, and rinsed before using.

New potatoes, yogurt, salt, pepper garnished with chopped chives, lavender buds, borage flowers, calendula, and perilla (shiso)

Sponge roll with lemon sauce garnished with nasturtium flowers' Peaches and Cream' and lemon verbena leaves.
Chocolate cake, chocolate icing, garnished with nasturtium flowers and leaves, day lily flowers, pansies, calendula, roses and borage flowers from my summer garden.
(image © Alan & Linda Detrick, Ellen Spector Platt design)
Two sizes of coconut cakes stacked, garnished with lemon scented geranium, lavender, pansies, roses and hyssop from my fall garden. (image © Alan & Linda Detrick, Ellen Spector Platt design)

LAVENDER, THE HERB

For three days amid rain, wind and clouds, I joined hundreds of other lavender lovers at the PA Lavender Festival, Willow Pond Farm near Gettysburg.I was appearing in a huge dried flower hat with my Lavender book, and was fortunate to be placed under a small tent between the ice cream stand and the lunch line. No wonder I sold out of books! Visitors picked their own bunches, learned to weave lavender wands, attended lectures and demos, licked Bruster’s dark chocolate lavender cones, selected varieties to take home.
Photo © Alan & Linda Detrick, Ellen Spector Platt design

THREE IMPORTANT LAVENDER REMINDERS
•The charming Lavandula stoechas above, sometimes called Spanish, French or Italian lavender, is hardy only in Zones 8-9. In the NY area, treat it as an annual and you wont be disappointed.

• If you use lavender in cooking, use a variety of Lavandula angustifolia like ‘Hidcote’ or ‘Munstead’, sometimes called English lavender. Other lavenders have a higher camphor aroma and taste which will not enhance your cooking. (see my post of 6/16/09 for ‘Hidcote’ on my roof.)

•When your lavender finishes its bloom, cut off spent stems down to the first cluster of leaves to encourage re-bloom later in the season.

On the way home from the festival we stopped to see dear friends near my old Meadowlark Flower & Herb Farm. Their garden (above) had burst into lavender bloom, with L. x intermedia ‘Provence’ and ‘Grosso’ still in bud. Creeping thyme (Thymus serpyllum), which I had once helped to plant, had totally filled in the bluestone path.
My parting gift to our hosts was a couple of hours of weeding in their daylily patch, as much a gift to me as to Gary & Diane.

Even if you don't grow your own Lavandula angustifolia, you can buy a pack of culinary lavender buds to make these and other treats.
LAVENDER MADELEINES (from: Lavender: How to Grow & Use the Fragrant Herb by Ellen Spector Platt, 2nd. Ed. Stackpole Books, 2009)
These miniature shell-shaped cakes are typically French; rich and delicious they’re perfect for a tea party or afternoon treat. The only requirement is a Madeleine pan, available from most any cookware source. If buying a new one I strongly suggest that you look for the non-stick variety so the little dears will just pop out when you invert the pan. Lavender adds a delectable flavor here, as it does to most any simple cake or cookie recipe. Dunk the dainty Madeleine in a cup of tea to release the perfect combination of flavors.

Ingredients
2 large eggs
a pinch of salt
½ cup granulated sugar
1 large lemon
1 cup all purpose flour
1 stick unsalted butter melted
1 tablespoon dried, or two tablespoons fresh lavender buds
1/3 cup confectioners sugar

Don’t use a mixer for this recipe, beating by hand results in a lighter, more tender Madeleine.
Butter and flour the Madeleine mold.
Preheat oven to 375 degrees.
Melt the butter, add the lavender and set aside to cool.
Finely grate the lemon, yellow part only.
In a medium bowl, wisk the eggs and salt until frothy.
Add the sugar gradually, wisking as you go.
Add the lemon rind.
With a rubber spatula or wooden spoon fold in the flour.
Mix in the melted butter with lavender.
Fill shells 2/3 full with batter.
Bake on middle rack for 12 to fifteen minutes until firm and brown around the edges.
Turn out immediately on a cooling rack, then sprinkle with confectioners sugar.

Makes 24 cakes. When reusing the mold for the second dozen, butter and flour again.

getting high in NYC

I am proud to be a New Yorker.

New Yorkers love to complain, and I admit, I do my share. But not this time. I am insanely grateful to the powers that be: the NYC Parks Department, the extremely talented designers, the many wealthy benefactors. What an insanely wonderful gift this park is! Do not pass go, do not collect $200, go directly to The High Line.



A single post can't do it justice. I'd need one to extoll the landscape design (James Corner Field Operations together with Piet Oudolf), another to praise the architecture (Diller Scofidio + Renfro), several posts to cover individual plants, and I'd still want to rave about the synergistic combination of the Manhattan skyline with the planted landscape.

As an entirely inadequate introduction to the park, here's a little history.

The High Line is an elevated railroad structure built in the 1930s, running from Gansevoort Street in the meatpacking district to 34th Street, next to the Javits Center. It allowed for the movement of freight by rail without clogging street traffic, and spurs were built to enter directly into the second floors of warehouses. Abandoned since 1980, the tracks were quickly colonized by hardy volunteer plants, which inspired the naturalized planting style of The High Line park today.

South of 30th Street, The High Line is owned by the City of New York. It was donated to the city by CSX Transportation, which still owns the northern portion (30th Street to 34th Street). Although neighborhood residents organized to save the High Line from destruction in 1999, construction on the first section didn't begin until 2006.

The second section (20th to 30th Street) opened in 2011. Those of us who thought nothing could top the first installment were stunned and amazed to discover the delights of The High Line, part two. The future of the third section is tied to the development of The Hudson Rail Yards; construction should begin in 2012.

The High Line opens at 7 am, a great time to have it almost to yourself. For more details about hours, directions, and access, visit www.thehighline.org.

Everywhere you look, the juxtaposition of bricks, mortar, and steel with sweeps of prairie flowers and ornamental grasses tells you you're not in Kansas anymore.

A grove of 3-flowered maple trees (Acer triflorum) softens a corner of the elevated railway.

Drought tolerant stonecrop (Sedum telephium 'Red Cauli') and companion grasses naturalize between concrete planks, imitating the original volunteer plants that colonized the railroad tracks.

Who could resist the wooden chaises, positioned for lazy gazing across the Hudson?

I struggle to communicate the significance of this park. So do me a favor, don't take my word for it. Get down there and see it for yourself. You won't be sorry.

THE BACK FORTY AT THE TIP OF MANHATTAN

(photo courtesy Paul Zorovich)
Spoiled gardeners with actual land for planting often restrict themselves in their deployment of containers: a few glazed beauties on the terrace, two rose standards flanking the front door, some pots of colorful annuals by the garage. We who garden in New York City with only hardscape, know that you can grow everything in containers.
I first met Karen Dixon after her husband Paul Zorovich bought me at a charity auction to benefit the New York Oratorio Society. I had offered my services as a Garden Coach. Karen was at that time growing an eclectic
mix of annuals and perennials, a few herbs, a tomato or two and knew at least as much as I did. I was deeply impressed by the composter on their 9th floor terrace in Inwood, the Northern tip of Manhattan. This smallish plastic tumbler was the first I had ever seen in New York City. Since that time Karen’s evolved into a big time vegetable grower with TEN self-watering EarthBoxes and assorted other containers. Karen & Paul's terrace faces northeast, where they’re completely exposed
to daylong sun and “hurricane” force drying winds.

Karen says “this year on the back forty I tried sugar snap peas, planting them by the end of March and eating them the first couple of weeks in June. Quite delicious, although most of them never made it off the terrace as Paul and I kind of harvested and ate them at the same time. Next year I will do the peas a little differently, as I didn’t really pay attention to the fact that a six and a half foot plant is going to overwhelm a four-foot trellis. Spatial relations are useful.
We are also growing hot peppers for the first time, along with our collection of sweet peppers. I have both lettuce
and spinach, and
have already eaten
my first heads of
each. Finally, I
have a tomatillo
plant; it kind of
came along free
with an order of
seedlings. (photo on
right courtesy Paul Zorovich)
I only have one, so
it won't be cross-
pollinated, unless
someone nearby is
also growing
one and a pollina-
tor visits both, I
don't think it will set fruit.
I am trying to grow plants for our friends the bees, so I’ve put in bee balm, hyssop, butterfly bush, borage, and several varieties of lilac. We have a few resident bumblebees that we call Eric and we like to keep them happy. Last year our terrace hosted a preying mantis all summer, which was fun, but I haven't seen any this year.
The downside
this year is
that after four
years garden
pests have
finally found
us. I knew
they would
eventually,
and this year
I am doing
battle with
aphids and leafhoppers. I garden organically, so I am using all the non-synthetic chemical tricks at my disposal to control them. All I need now is for the DAMN SUN to shine a bit.”

The EarthBox insures that tomatoes and other thirsty plants get a constant supply of water to their roots where they like it. There’s a three-gallon reservoir of water at the bottom, then a rigid aeration screen, soil, and a fill pipe at the top so the gardener can add water as needed. A fitted black shower cap covers the soil and plants are inserted through slits in the plastic.
I was sent two EarthBoxes to trial by the company but hadn’t gotten around to planting in them when my desire for homemade compost overwhelmed me. Layering garden waste and kitchen waste on top of the aeration screen in one, I covered it all with the plastic cap. Tada! In six weeks I had gorgeous mulch for my roses, while starting to fill the second box with more waste.

Is it too much?

My favorite and bestest client has an interesting set of terraces. The north terrace can have only white flowers. Foliage of any color is fine (and in fact appreciated), but all the flowers must be white. It's a calm and serene garden, full of subtle combinations of various textures, shapes, and shades of green, used primarily for dinners al fresco and evenings in the warm summer air. A soothing and relaxing place to sit and gaze, lending itself to quiet conversation and intimate exchanges.

The south terrace, however, is meant to be a riot of color, as opposite of white as it is possible to be. It's a terrace where kids squirt each other with hoses and a large family gathers for noisy weekend breakfasts. I love working with these kinds of sweeping requests: general enough to leave me plenty of room to play, and yet specific enough so I get a feel for what my client wants.

This week was tricky weather-wise, and one morning was an especially unusual combination of bright, overcast light that brought out the most vibrant, saturated best of the colorful terrace. I was almost shocked by how rich the colors looked and I asked myself, "Is it too much?"

It wouldn't necessarily be my first choice for a garden, but how lucky am I to get to play with so many different kinds of landscapes?

What do YOU think? Would you prefer a glass of chilled white wine against the subtle glow of white flowers and gray foliage? Or does this joyous, screaming-out-loud color combo make you want to down a margarita and ambush someone with a water pistol? There are no wrong answers.