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?
