Kitchen Witchin’

Gardening in the Age of Covid-19: Starting Seeds in Quarantine

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What a strange fucking timeline we’re in, guys. But I don’t need to tell you that. It’s taken a couple weeks, but I’m getting back into the groove of Springtime planning and planting. Now more than ever, I’m thinking about the connections between food sovereignty, community, and home gardening. And I want to talk about it all with you!

In this post, we’ll go over the basics of starting your seeds indoors on the cheap and with limited space. Next up, we’ll talk about prepping your outdoor soil for those early Spring seeds you can plant directly in the garden. But for now, let’s get started while staying inside.

Preparing Your Seed Starting Mix

I’m a big fan of these handy windowsill seed starting trays by Jiffy. They’re a cheap all-in-one solution for folks with limited indoor space, or for those who simply don’t want to mess with putting together a multi-part indoor setup. And right now, the less you need to purchase from different places, the better. They’re also very satisfying to prepare, as you just add water and watch the peat pellets plump up!

It’s important to keep in mind when starting seeds indoors that seed starting mix is not the same thing as outdoor gardening/potting soil that you might toss into your raised beds or containers. Whether you use dehydrated peat pellets, like in this Jiffy setup, or a separate bag of sterile seed starting soilless mix, make sure you’re using a medium meant just for starting seeds.

Choosing the Right Seeds

With community and pandemic conditions in mind, I chose to go the more practical route this year instead of experimenting so much. I’m focusing on Cherokee Purple tomato seeds I saved last fall, cilantro, and lemon balm for my indoor starts. I figure I can give away my extra seedlings if anyone wants them, and cilantro works with so many types of cuisine to share later on.

When deciding which seeds to start indoors, prioritize the following:

  • Plants with long growing periods
  • Plants which need to go outside only after the danger of frost has passed (for more on this, learn how to find out your frost dates)
  • Plants which require some extra TLC and care to thrive once outside
Cilantro seeds

Tomatoes are a pretty standard “start inside” kind of plant, while I’ve found that other veggies like cucumbers and bush beans do just as well being sown outside closer to the last frost date or a little later. If you have limited indoor growing space like I do, I’d recommend using your precious space for things like tomatoes, herbs, and possibly a flower or two.

You’ll probably see most seed packets say to start the seeds indoors either 4-6 weeks or 6-8 weeks before last frost, and so now’s a perfect time to get your picks going for a mid-late May planting season.

Care for Your Growing Seedlings

Cherokee Purple tomato and cilantro sprouts

It’s important to keep the soil/starter mix moist in the early days to aid in germination. The Jiffy trays I use come with a plastic dome lid to create a greenhouse-type effect and trap moisture. However, you also don’t want your seedlings to mold and die off if the soil mix is too wet. Basically, just keep a close eye and check on them a couple times a day.

This year, I left my two trays on the bathroom floor near a heating vent to make sure the temperature was warm enough. Whatever works! Once you start to notice little spouts, remove the covering and move to a windowsill.

Keep your starts hydrated, and you should be on your way to healthy little plants while quarantined. If you’ve planted multiple seeds in each pot or pellet, remove the weaker and/or smaller sprouts. You’ll also need to upgrade your seedlings at some point to a bigger cup or pot later on in the process.

Lastly, you’ll eventually need to “harden off” your delicate indoor plants before they’re able to withstand the direct sunlight and outdoor conditions of the garden. But no need to worry about that just yet. We have a long Spring to come and the time to wait.

Goddess Girl Gang: Persephone, Pomegranates, and the Autumn Equinox

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Someone on the internet once said, “If Persephone can be both the goddess of Spring and Queen of the Underworld, then so can you.” If ever there was an affirmation that speaks to my soul, this is it. Thanks, Tumblr! And with the recent turn to autumn and slowing down of life in the garden, I’ve been thinking about how to honor the changing seasons in a way that acknowledges this all-important shift and my goddess girl gang right hand lady, Persephone (also known as Kore). But first, let’s recap the Persephone myth so it’s fresh in your mind.

Persephone’s Story

As it goes, Kore (meaning “maiden”) was minding her own business on a beautiful day out in a meadow when Hades decided to kidnap her so that she could live as his wife and queen in the Underworld as “Persephone.” Rude.

Understandably distraught, Persephone’s mother Demeter wandered the land in search of her daughter. But as Demeter was the goddess of agriculture, the land suffered while her attention was elsewhere. The people in turn began to suffer and starve, so Zeus allowed mother and daughter to reunite. But there’s always a catch, is’t there?

In this case, Persephone was now bound to the Underworld because she had eaten seeds from a pomegranate that Hades gave to her. And once you eat in the Underworld, there you shall stay. However, they brokered a deal wherein Persephone could spend two-thirds of the year with her mother, returning to Hades and the Underworld for the remaining third.

Persephone on the 1st of May

As you can probably guess, this became the explanation for the changing seasons and the slow descent into winter for a portion of the year. But while Persephone is most known for being the Queen of the Underworld, her return to Earth ushers in the new growing season, and she is simultaneously honored as the goddess of spring.

The Persephone/Demeter relationship was a huge deal in Ancient Greece, spawning one of the best-known religious rites of the time, the Eleusinian Mysteries. And while Persephone may have started out as a victim, part of the allure of the story is her decision to take charge and embrace both roles — both goddess of Spring and Queen of the Underworld. It’s an appealing dichotomy, and it feels real.

It’s heartening to see that over the years folks have taken the mythology into their own hands, offering a different twist on the story. Mythology is just that — myth. Oral stories passed down and bastardized like a thousand-year-old game of telephone. So why not change it up?

Pomegranate Symbolism

Image by Annette Meyer from Pixabay

There’s no denying that pomegranates are stunning to behold. But they also have a rich mythological, religious, and folkloric history across many cultures, which makes the fall season extra meaningful for those us in the Northern hemisphere with witchy inclinations. Each seed is a jewel, bursting with ruby red juice that’s both sweet and tart. Basically, pomegranates are sensual AF.

Pomegranates have been cultivated in the Middle East for thousands of years, and they feature heavily in various dishes and traditions originating from the region. They’re often incorporated into Judaica as decoration, and there’s quite a story in the Talmud where a woman tests her husband by disguising herself as a sex worker, requiring he pay her with a fresh pomegranate. But while I’m most familiar with the myriad ways pomegranates are valued in the Jewish tradition, the fruit’s spiritual and symbolic significance goes back even further.

When it comes to the ancient Greeks, pomegranates were considered to be the fruit of the dead, and it was told that they sprung from the blood of Adonis. Because Persephone at the seeds of a pomegranate in the Underworld, they’re also associated with her and the two are frequently depicted together.

Kitchen Witchin’ for Fall

Two beautiful pomegranate halves before the neighbor’s dog absconded with one

I love this time of year not only for the symbolic significance of the pomegranate, but because they’re also so damn delicious. It’s definitely work to crack one open and remove all those seeds, but it’s worth it. And while I often stash them in a Tupperware and snack on the seeds as an indulgent treat over the course of a few days, I want to try some new recipes this year that are more intentional. Why not try…

Pomegranate Pistachio Chocolate Bark

Zeytoon Parvardeh – Persian Pomegranate, Olive, and Walnut Dip

Pomegranate Chicken

Mustn’t forget about Lilith! My other main squeeze, especially this time of year.
My favorite necklace, the sigil of Lilith with a moonstone.

Hangin’ with Persephone

Keeping pomegranate charms, or asking Persephone if she wants to hang when I’m working in the kitchen or garden, are little things that help me feel more connected to this badass goddess in early May and throughout the fall, in particular. I was never really into deities, but over the last couple years I’ve connected with a few that I now hold near and dear to my heart. They’re like effortlessly cool friends to hang with out in my bunker in the woods. It’s a little goddess girl gang, and all are welcome to join.

Seed Saving 101: Preserve Heirloom Tomato Seeds in 5 Easy Steps

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With Labor Day weekend in the rearview mirror and the crisp September air taking hold, I’ve been thinking about this season’s successes, failures, and any end-of-summer projects I might want to try to end on a high note. And while I’ve saved lettuce and pea seeds, I’ve never saved tomato seeds before. I thought, “Why not give it a try? Now’s the time.”

Backyard tomato heyday, circa 2015

You see, my mom is selling the house I grew up in, and I’m having a hard time thinking about saying goodbye to the humble 8’x4′ raised garden bed I built. This little corner is where my love affair with home gardening began. I cleaned it up this spring and planted peas, kale, lettuces and carrots as I have in the past. But as it exploded with weeds over the summer, a few volunteer tomato plants also fought their way to grow.

I figured saving the seeds is the best way I can honor my love for this garden, along with a few other more artistic projects I have up my sleeve. But more on those later!

Step One: Pick the Best Tomatoes for Saving Seeds

When planning to save seeds, you’ll always want to give your plants a once over and select the healthiest, best-looking fruit. I got lucky because the one Cherokee Purple heirloom tomato I grew this year was also a beauty. I’m thinking it’s also a choice specimen because it sprouted from a volunteer tomato plant, so it’s got the chutzpah and can-do attitude I’m looking for! A tomato after my own heart (and my New York/New Jersey roots).

For the last few years, I’ve gotten my tomato seedlings from the wonderful women of Rise & Root Farm in Chester, NY. Stopping by their farm in the rich black dirt region of Orange County, NY to pick up my plant babes is always a treat, and if you’re in the city, I’d encourage you to stop by one of their farmers markets! They’re a group of women committed to “building a strong local food economy” with justice and equity at the forefront. Hell yes, please.

Step Two: Scoop the Seeds

To scoop the seeds, cut the tomato in half across the middle of the fruit, i.e. not top to bottom. This will reveal all the pulpy seed pockets for easy removal with a small spoon. Now’s also a good time to take a second to admire just how gorgeous fresh food can be, like the inside of these heirloom tomatoes. They almost resemble a watery map to me with lots of little streams. Anyone else? Moving on!

Gently scoop the seed pockets into a clean jar, along with all the juice and pulp. You’ll only want to avoid getting too much of the pithy center bits, so take your time. Next, cover the jar with a double layer of cut cheesecloth and tie it around the top of the jar with twine or a rubber band.

This concoction is going to sit and ferment for three days, you’ll want to contain that smell as best you can. I was expecting the worst, but I think the cheesecloth made a big difference. Not so smelly after all! But why might you want to ferment your tomato seeds before cleaning and drying them for storage?

In a nutshell, wet tomato seeds contain an extra gelatinous outer layer that protects the seed. This gel-sac can inhibit germination, and so it’s a good idea to be rid of it for the purposes of saving viable seeds. Fermenting your seeds in a jar mimics the natural lacto-fermentation that happens when a rotting tomato drops to the dirt out in a field. This is how I got my glorious single volunteer plant! And though it’s a good idea to go through the process, it’s not 100% necessary. In a pinch, you can also thoroughly clean and dry your tomato seeds straight from the fruit.

Step Three: Clean the Seeds

If you too go the fermentation route, you should see some gentle bubbling over the course of a few days. A moldy film should also form on the top of your tomato pulp and seed mixture, so don’t be alarmed! I left my seeds to ferment for about three full days, and I don’t think you want to go much longer that that. What you don’t want to is for the seeds to germinate in the jar and moldy mixture, which can happen if they’re left too long.

To begin the cleaning process, dispose of as much of the moldy film as you can without accidentally dumping all your seeds too. Then, pour the remaining contents of the jar into a larger bowl and add cool water. Swirl it around a bit and gently pour off as much water as you can. Repeat as many times as needed, until you’re left with clear water and visible seeds.

Viable seeds will sink to the bottom, and any bad ones will float. You can dispose of those that are floating because they won’t germinate properly, and so you don’t want to save them. Once you have clear water and clean seeds, lay them out on a paper plate to dry.

Step Four: Dry the Seeds

After a day or two, check on your drying seeds and move them around the pate to ensure they’re not sticking in place. But here’s the thing — make sure you leave your plate of precious drying seeds someplace safe, and not on top of your freezer door where you may flip them over in a sleepy haze at 5:30am.

That’s right, I managed to launch all my delicate seeds right off the plate and into the abyss that is the space between the wall and the fridge. I was able to retrieve most of the seeds, which were now covered in dust. A little patience and some tweezers, however, go a long way. Once I separated most of the seeds and got them back on the plate, I moved them out of the way but within eyeshot, i.e. on top of my record collection. No accidents here!

Step Five: Pack the Seeds

Once your tomato seeds are dry, you’re ready to package them for safe keeping. I use small brown paper envelopes from AC Moore, and then for a final flourish, I wrap them with decorative washi tape. If you too use washi tape, be sure to wrap enough layers so that the packet is sealed completely.

It’s so satisfying to hold in your hands a packet of homegrown seeds, knowing all the love and care you put into the process. It’s optimism for the seasons(s) ahead, and it’s slowing down to thank the garden for all it’s provided in seasons past. It’s part science experiment, part ritual, and every bit a special time to appreciate the generations of growers who came before you. Happy seed saving, my dears.

All About Mint: From Ancient Greek Lore to Your Summer Garden

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I don’t need to convince you that mint is a special plant in cultures all over the world — you’ve likely tried a dozen different dishes from as many cultures which use this powerful garden herb. From Moroccan teas and Indian chutneys and salads, to Southern mint juleps and Cuban mojitos, mint shows up again and again.

But did you know mint was also used in ancient Greek funerary rites along with other fragrant herbs like rosemary and myrtle? It’s still used for similar purposes today it would seem, as the tradition of ritual lament by professional mourners (moirologists) continues in Mani, Greece. As if all that wasn’t enough, our humble garden mint has a saucy origin story involving your girl’s number one right-hand goddess, Persephone.

Hylas and the Water Nymphs, Henriette Rae (circa 1909)

According to the myth, Minthe was a Naiad nymph who presided over the River Cocytus in the Underworld. She tried to seduce Hades and/or Hades became smitten with her. Minthe began to think herself superior to Persephone, Queen of the Underworld and wife to Hades. Once Persephone caught wind of the flirtation, either by Minthe’s own tongue or another’s, she turned the nymph into the garden herb we know as mint today.

Mint was also an important hallucinatory ingredient in the ancient Greek drink kykeon, which participants in the Eleusinian Mysteries drank at the height of the experience. I’ll be diving into this trippy ancient ritual in the next post, which you’ll definitely want to check out. But for now, let’s explore how you can care for a small mint plant in the 21st century.

Getting Started with Mint

See if you can spot my little grasshopper friend…

Mint is a really great homegrown herb because there are so many varieties to try, and you can add it to everything from cocktails and fruit salad to marinades and tea. You can sooth an upset stomach with mint, just as you can relieve the acute pain of a bee sting. True story, my babysitter carried me into the house and put toothpaste on a bee sting I got on the back of my thigh after sitting on a bee resting on our tree swing. Nowadays, I welcome the little bees when they come to visit, and mint is one of my go-to herbs for my home container garden.

Be warned, however, that mint will go rogue if you let it! If you don’t have a well-contained and well-tended garden space, I’d urge you to grow your mint in a container. Mint spreads horizontally, and will send out “runners,” which are side shoots or stems that take root as the plant spreads outwards. It’s wild to see the runners start crawling around the sides of your container like alien plant tentacles.

Specialty Mints: Apple and Mojito

The great mojito and apple mint container of 2018

Last year, I fell in love with mojito mint, which is a Cuban variety that’s been bred to smell just like a mojito — lime, sugar, mint, and all! It’s pretty delicious, and it’s a fun Wonka-like addition to a home herbal garden. There are lots of recipes for mojito marinade online, but you could customize your own mix for any grilled meat or fish entree with some citrus, garlic, herbs, and this particular mint.

I also grew apple mint last year, which is a fuzzy mint with soft, felt-like leaves. Apple mint grows quite tall, so your container will have some height once the season gets underway. I wasn’t as keen on putting the apple mint into fresh recipes, but I did use it to make an apple cider vinegar-based facial toner for my acne-prone skin. My partner says it makes my face smell like feet though, so mix at your own risk.

Speciality Mints: Orange and Chocolate

Orange mint taking off!

This year, I opted for a lush orange mint plant at the garden center in lieu of others I’ve tried in seasons past. Orange mint is exactly what it sounds like — a lovely mint with a punchy citrus scent. I let it get a little out of control in the pot, so the other day I cut a bunch of the longer stems and stored the trimmed pieces in a Tupperware container. They’re still looking good in the fridge, so the plan is to make an orange mint-infused vinegar.

I’m 90% sure the second mint I’m growing this year is chocolate mint. However, if you have any thoughts to the contrary based on this photo, please let me know! This mint has a gorgeous deep green color and chocolate brown stems, apropos of the name. My neighbor dug up a section from her friend’s garden and gifted it to me, which is what I have in this little pot. It doesn’t look like much, but this particular guy is super potent. A little will stretch far enough for my purposes, and because of how strong it is, I think I’ll dry whatever’s left for tea near the end of the season.

Pollinator-Friendly: Mountain Mint

May 2019

Chocolate mint’s not the only thing my neighbor dug up and brought back home for us to share. She also gifted me a hunk of grassy dirt with some greenery and dead stalks, which looked vaguely like something I should try to keep alive. It was mountain mint! Mountain mints are native to North America, and the short-toothed or blunt mountain mint that I have is native to Eastern North America. Once the summer really got underway, the mountain mint blossomed. The plant now has silvery white leaves that look almost frosted, which give off a cool fairy vibe along with its tiny lavender flowers. Needless to say, I am into it.

Early August 2019

Mountain mints are excellent for attracting pollinators, especially bees. I recently stopped into the NJ-NY Trail Conference office to check out some maps, and it was awesome to find the whole front of the building planted with mountain mint and literally buzzing with pollinator activity. Mountain mint is often featured on lists of best pollinator-friendly plants, and it was awarded Plant of the Year in 2018 by my own former employer! It’s also deer-resistant, which makes it a great choice for suburban gardens.

Dozens of bees buzzing around the mountain mint bushes
outside the NY-NJ Trail Conference Headquarters

How Do You Like to Enjoy Mint?

I’m trying to take advantage of the abundant fresh mint I have at this moment, because really, now’s the time to let it marry with all the heightened flavors of ripe peaches, strawberries, and watermelon. As I mentioned earlier, one way I’m hoping to keep the freshness of summer alive is by making an orange mint-infused vinegar to drizzle on salads.

Even if you prefer to simply let your mint grow for the visual pleasure of it in your garden, try thinking about Minthe and the water nymphs and all the ways that people before you have treasured and made use of this special plant. How do you like to prepare mint? Let me know!

Roses and Hops and Unicorns, Oh My! Midsummer Magic in New York City

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Potted fruit and herb trees, along with deadly oleander, line a wall of the
Bonnefont Herb Garden at The Met Cloisters (Fort Tryon Park, NYC)

Hey friends, did you know there’s a collection of medieval gardens, courtyards, and unicorn art just north of Washington Heights in Manhattan? Yes, motherfuckin’ unicorns. If Europe’s not in the budget, then The Met Cloisters at Fort Tryon Park is the best alternative for a Saturday staycation.

If you’re a New York resident, you can pay whatever you want for admission instead of the standard $20.00. There are also several different tours, including a daily afternoon Garden Tour, which are all free with admission. Parking is even free!

First Stop – The Judy Black Garden in the Cuxa Cloister

Jewel tone sweet pea flowers

From the main entrance, the first garden you’ll come upon as you wind your way around is the Judy Black Garden in the Cuxa Cloister. The Cuxa Cloister (built with stone from the 12th century Benedictine Abbey of Saint-Michel-de-Cuxa), is reconstructed at about a third of its original size and is filled with reimagined medieval magic.

Though I wandered the gardens earlier in the afternoon, I stuck around for the guided tour to get the real dirt. The Cuxa garden is divided into four quadrants, each with an ornamental crab apple tree planted in the corners. Fun fact: I’m 90% sure our guide said it was Albertus Magnus who recommended planting trees a healthy distance apart, not because it’s good for their growing roots, but because spiders will otherwise weave their webs between trees that are too close, and that is annoying.

Daily garden tour, free with admission

In addition to strewing herbs like lavender, you can find plants with historical magical significance, such as lady’s mantle and foxglove. Lady’s mantle leaves are covered in fine hairs, which causes water to bead on the surface. Apparently this was enough for certain medieval folks to deduce that lady’s mantle was an alchemical plant, and therefore magical. Similarly, the doctrine of signatures dictated that plants resembling certain body parts should be used to treat said body part, a not-so-scientific, but also kind of logical approach to healthcare.

Roses (and fuzzy bees) in the Cuxa Cloister garden

Once we reached the roses, our guide explained that their popularity waned for a time because the Catholic Church didn’t approve of them, associating this particular flower with the excesses of the Roman Empire. However, the rose came back into vogue as Crusaders traveled East and returned to Europe, bringing with them a renewed appreciation for the plant which we haven’t shaken since. Because roses set fruit in the fall, rose hips were, and still are, also used medicinally.

Next Up, the Saint-Guilhem Cloister

This interior cloister feels the most like a Game of Thrones set piece to me, though it’s the smallest with only sparse greenery, mostly potted palms. It’s bright and ascetic, and I can just imagine the Sand Snakes (the bad bitches from the books, not the show) plotting some revenge in this mini Dornish courtyard.

According to the info placard, the French monastery from which this cloister came was called Saint-Guilhem-le-Desert, founded in 804 AD by a member of Charlemagne’s court amidst a landscape of waterfalls and gorges. The monastery was a popular pilgrimage site on the road to further religious destinations in northern Spain, and the columns surrounding the space feature designs of ancient Roman leaf types and vining plants, including hops.

The Magical Bonnefont Herb Garden and Cloister

Cascading hop vines in my favorite of the Cloisters gardens

My absolute favorite is the Bonnefont Herb Garden and Cloister, which is located next to the small cafe and more wild-planted Trie Garden. After you grab lunch and a drink (maybe a cold beer or hot tea depending on the time of year), you’ll move to the largest garden featuring raised beds dedicated to different medieval purposes, such as magic, medicine, love and fertility, and arts and crafts.

I’m bummed the apothecary display wasn’t open during this visit, but it’s definitely worth asking about! A couple years ago I was able to get a list of all of the plants in the Bonnefont garden for the 2017 seasons, which is still a great personal reference sheet to have. See the gallery below for a photo of part of the apothecary display.

Raised beds representing plants used for different medieval purposes,
such as magic, medicine, love/fertility, or in crafts

Lastly, hops are one of my favorite plants, and not just because they’re a key ingredient in beer (also a magical substance). Hop buds are beautiful, and cascading walls of hop vines and tendrils make me so happy. Hops feature heavily in the Cloister gardens, with designs carved into columns, canopies growing in the Bonnefont garden, and 16th century instructional texts about growing hops in very old English on display inside the museum.

Unicorns, Fuck Yeah!

Moving back inside the museum, what would a trip to the Cloisters be without stopping to visit the famed unicorn tapestries? I may have to do a separate post to dive deeper into the badass botanical/Biblical symbolism and artistry in these tapestries. But for now, here are some highlights I gleaned from our tour guide:

  • According to myth, a unicorn’s horn could purify a water source if/when the Devil poisons the water overnight in the form of a serpent.
  • People at the time thought they were purchasing unicorn horn for healing, but really they were getting pieces of narwhal tusk.
  • Botanists from the New York Botanical Garden (NYBG) were able to identify 101 unique plants in the tapestries, and were able to name 84 of these plants.
  • There’s a hell of a lot of Christ/crown of thorns and Virgin Mary plant imagery, including Irises a.k.a. Sword lilies a.k.a. Sorrows of the Virgin (dope).
  • The patron who commissioned the seven tapestries (initialed A.E.) has never been identified and remains a mystery for historians.
‘The Unicorn in Captivity’ tapestry at The Cloisters [Public domain]

Until Next Time…

Whether you’re a local or visitor to New York, The Met Cloisters is an easy-to-get-to destination for a faux European afternoon of garden life and people watching. One of the best pieces I overheard was a little boy explaining all the plants to family, including the “Frankenstein” plant (a.k.a. frankincense). I’ll certainly be back in the Fall with a book or magazine, and I hope you can take the time for yourself too. You deserve it.

  • All photos by Paige Trubatch