I’ve been spending a lot of time looking at seedlings. The Family CWD planted our first round of seedlings a few weeks ago — tomatoes, cherry tomatoes1, and peppers — and the Kiddos and I have been obsessively checking them each morning2. We’ve gone through the full spectrum of emotion in watching these small plants take (literal) root: excitement at planting them, anxiety that they wouldn’t sprout, excitement at the first green shoots rising from the soil. Kiddo and the Warthog have been nothing if not exuberant in their watering — the Warthog spritzing with the mister like a maniac, Kiddo releasing a deluge each morning with the watering can3. Without going so far as to read stories each night4, I’m confident that these seedlings are being raised under the most humane of conditions.
Just about three weeks into this endeavor, though, we’re at the point that I like the least: the pruning. With all the time, effort, energy and magic that goes into getting the plants to where they are — conceivably viable seedlings, awaiting their transplantation to our raised beds — it seems borderline barbaric to have to lop many of them off at the stem. Being 40% of the way through the completion of a certificate in Sustainable Food & Farming5, I’m well aware of the limited nutrients in any one block of soil; to grow strong healthy plants, we need to cull the underperformers. But still, each time I take my shears6 to a duplicative sprout I feel like I’m wasting potential.
Last year we waited too long to prune and ended up with stunted Cherokee Purples; our peppers never even bore fruit. We rectified some of these mistakes with our squash and zucchini, but they went in the ground too early and were devastated by vine borers. The winter squash made out okay, but our watermelon was predated by rabbits7.
No one ever said that living radically was easy.
So, to set ourselves up for success, we’ll make the hard decision to prune, doing what’s best for the future despite some short-term consternation. A quick snip now ensures a more bountiful harvest this summer. It only hurts for a second.
There’s probably a lesson there.
In honor of these fallen soldiers and the promise of growth to come, we’re making ham soup this week. This does require a bit of upfront prep work (like making a ham for a previous meal), but, like pruning seedlings, the end result is certainly worth it.
Let’s make it happen.
Roughly chop a few carrots, stalks of celery, and an onion or two. Sautee the vegetables in olive oil — or, bacon fat, if you have it. When the vegetables are just getting soft, add to the pot a smoked ham shank and ham bones8. Give this a swirl, and then add some small potatoes and cover with stock. Add in some additional chunks of ham if you have any. Bring to a boil then cut to a simmer and let this go for 6+ hours, adding broth or water as needed to keep everything submerged9.
About an hour before serving, remove the bones from the soup (taking care to pull off any remnant meat and adding that back into the soup pot — you can dispose of the bones) and add some chopped kale and cook until that has softened. Serve with noodles if you’re feeling starchy.
So there you go, ham soup. This recipe is pretty adaptable to what you have on hand — feel free to add additional vegetables, skip the potatoes, add in beans… the world is your oyster10.
I don’t have much else for you this week. Here on the ranch, Kiddo CWD starts soccer — which should be a riot, with a half-dozen three-year olds scampering around a field — but otherwise things will be relatively low-key. With luck, this will be the last weekend with excessive chill in the air, and then we can really start to embrace the spring season.
However you end up spending your weekend, I hope you find some time to laugh. We’ll see you back next week.
Actual cherry tomatoes this year, for those who remember the Great Roma Tomato Debacle of 2023.
Mrs. CWD, too, for the record.
Given that the seeds are growing both on top of a warming mat and underneath grow lights — to say nothing of the air vent next to them by the window — I think they appreciate all the water they can get.
Though I am sure they get plenty of literary exposure from the non-stop story hour in our house — one hopes a plant doesn’t get board of hearing Highlights magazine being repeated from afar.
Thank you, UMass Stockbridge.
Or, more likely Mrs. CWD takes her shears — she relishes this process much more than me.
I’m still working on Mrs. CWD to let me get a pellet gun — which, beyond pest control, would also open up the menu to lapin. I think I’ve still got a ways to go on that one.
As noted below, we used a trotter here since Doggie CWD inhaled the hock I had intended to use.
This, if you do it right, will cool to an exceptionally gelatinous block of soup and can stand to be thinned with water.
One requisite is ham bones. I had planned to use both the ham bones from our Easter ham as well as the ham shank I cured and smoked simultaneous to the ham. I had the shank out and ready to put in the pot, but then had to take a quick phone call. Our little piglet, Doggie CWD, sensing my inattention when I went upstairs, used this as an opportunity to jump on the counter and grab the bag with the shank — and subsequently ate the entire 4-pound hunk of smoked meat, bones and all.
As
commented when I relayed this story, these are the trials and tribulations of radical eating they don’t tell you about.Fortunately, I also had the trotter prepped and ready (albeit in the freezer), so I was able to swap that out. And equally fortunately, Piggie CWD seems no worse for the wear after consuming 10% of her bodyweight in ham. So everything ended up turning out okay — but, boy, was that an emotional roller coaster of a meal prep.
I can't believe all you missed out on all this as a child. Who knew? And so many steps to grow one little cherry tomato or pepper. I don't think I had the patience. I was too busy picking up Lego pieces.
But I am so excited for you and all, and cannot wait to share in the radical bounty this summer.
Lastly, as it happens, I do have a ham shank and I will be able to make ham soup this weekend. You gave me an excellent idea, and fortunately Jem would rather consume a tub of butter than a ham bone--although she has not had the opportunity to discover one. exists in the house yet. I take it back--I am going to have to be very careful!
I love you, and Happy Friday...and Happy Every Day!
Yes, you remember correctly. Those plants were still there rotted away when we sold the house!