It's the peak of the Summer harvest here at Fencebroke. This year, a conscious emphasis on edible plantings, together with a long, warm season have led to bumper crops across the board. This has been our best, most productive year so far!
Critics may sully this claim by pointing out that this has been our only year so far, but if I checked myself every time a garden critic lashed out in semantic ire, well then I'd never get anything done, would I? Those jerks are everywhere.
As it is, I'm far too busy harvesting, cleaning, preserving and stuffing the fruits of our labor into my face. At a certain point, however, when one's stomach is full and the cornucopiae are still bursting, one must get creative in putting the bounty to good use, lest it rot and succumb to painful, criminal waste.
We tolerate no such crime at FPG. For example, at first glance it may appear that I have planted too many tomatoes—not true! To begin with, our trusty assistant Daisy must “inspect” a good 70% of all low hanging fruit in order to meet our rigorous quality control standards. Her “bite and spit” inspection method may seem more destructive than edifying, but you can't argue with the results: to date we have not received a single citation for … bad … tomato growing. Uh, that is, no ... tomatoing violations. (Wait, gardening citations are a thing, right?) In any case, after her inspection, any tomatoes that survive our ceaseless barrage of caprese cravings are boxed up and taken to the local theater district, where they are sold to ill-tempered theater patrons as ammunition to hurl at less-than-nuanced performers. Hey, don't judge; the way I see it, our tomatoes play an important role in cultural critique.
Our other surpluses are put to equally important uses. Excess carrots are tied to strings and sold at farmer's markets as motivational tools for stubborn mules; any leftover quinoa is funneled into our homemade, frozen gluten-free waffle side business; peppers are dried and used to flavor a passable cool-ranch snack chip; collard greens, grown massive and too tough to eat, are lovingly sewn together and sold as organic bed sheets; patty-pan squashes are taken down to the University and pawned off as custom discs for rabid disc-golf enthusiasts; likewise Brussels sprouts to hacky-sackers; long oriental cucumbers can be chained together to make a convincing pair of nunchucks; and, perhaps my favorite, any extra beets we are left with are boiled, pureed, and given to Daisy as an easy way for her to express her dissatisfaction with the bland color choices of Fencebroke's interiors.
And there you have it! With a little creativity and good business sense, nothing from your garden need be wasted!
Now, can I interest anyone in a few pairs of cukechucks?