Pixel Dance

I would venture to guess that many of you have never had a speckled roman tomato. Or a Royal Ann cherry. Or a purple podded pole bean. And you have no idea what you’re missing.

For hundreds of years, people planted a plethora of varieties of vegetables and flowers, saved the seeds, and passed them down to family and friends. But with the onset of the Industrial Revolution, trains and transportation, large food suppliers began to ship food to other places. And with shipping came the reality that some fruits and vegetables didn’t travel as well as others. For instance, my father says that a Royal Ann cherry is the best tasting cherry you could know, but it bruises easily and travels poorly. So instead, you’ll see the tougher Rainier, or the quintessential Bing. As genetic engineering became more viable, so did altering seeds for better production, better travel, and larger size. It’s why you get gigantic strawberries at the store, without an ounce of taste or juice. The less juice, the less it will bruise and rot.

The Amish, Mennonites, Native Americans, and hobby gardeners have secret stashes of heirloom seeds — seeds that have not been processed, but passed down (the technical definition is under debate, with some saying a true heirloom must be 50, others say 100 years old). There are thousands of varieties, shapes and colors that most people have never seen, but are full of flavor and nutrients. They don’t always come out perfect-looking, and some are downright weird. But each seed has a story, each bite has a vibrant pop to your anesthetized tongue, and growing the plants seems like a daily adventure. When my purple podded pole beans burst on the scene earlier this summer, I thought I had died and gone to heaven. They were deep grape purple in color, almost a foot long, and tasty as all get out. The seeds usually fair very well, and the absolute best part is that I am preserving a line of heritage that, frankly, in some cases is almost extinct. There are many seeds considered rare or close to extinction. And I am preserving history in my back yard.

I know gardening is work, but this is fun, rewarding work with a purpose. And at the end, you eat better than anyone in your tri-county region. My favorite place to go for seeds is www.seedsavers.org. They are amazing, with over 20 acres of heirloom seeds that they maintain in Decorah, Iowa. But the real genius idea they had was to create an exchange — where gardeners like me produce a crop, and then exchange the seeds with other Seed Saver growers. It keeps the lines going, and people get to share their own family heirloom seeds. I am currently growing a beautiful bunch of Grandma Einck’s dill, described as, “Iowa heirloom grown near Festina, Iowa since 1920 by Katherine Einck’s family (Diane Whealy’s grandmother).” What can top that? Maybe my “Cinderella” pumpkin that dates back to the 1700′s.

I hope you try a packet or two of your own next year. I’ve been growing my dad’s green beans, peas, and sweet corn for several years now, and having your own family seeds is a true pleasure. My dad, the professor of molecular biology, got me addicted to this thing. Growing up, we always grew our own food. many times in the late summer we would go fishing in the Snowy Range of Wyoming, then come home that night and cook our catch, along with some backyard beets, just-picked lettuce with fresh garden onions, and top it off with mom’s strawberry rhubarb pie. Thanks, dad, for teaching me how to prepare soil, plant and harvest seeds, work hard with my hands, and appreciate the absolute beauty and miracle that real food is. What a gift you have given me. And thanks, mom, for prepping and cooking it. You are a fine woman, and a fine chef.

By the way, I’m growing a Royal Ann cherry tree in my back yard. I can’t wait for the past to meet the future in my stomach. And if any of you have seeds, please, let’s trade. Let’s start our own exchange here, and make our own history.