by Lisa Federico

Created on: May 30, 2010

MEMOIRS:  Gardening

The family garden is big, lush, always bountiful. The cornucopia of organic vegetables never fails.  The plot is meticulously tended through the growing season, and once over, carefully prepared for the next one.

In fact, for as long as I can remember, life centered around the garden – that piece of land where nature's bounty sustained my family year round … and has for 100 years, and just may do the same for the next 100 years.

Although my grandmother passed away twelve years ago, I still have vivid memories of her hunched over and creeping through the rows of green beans, filling up the deep pockets of her old apron.  Once done, she'd bring them over to the ancient artisan well, draw up some water, rinse the beans, and head into the house with her harvest to prepare a meal.  Nana had tons of recipes for beans, all of them delicious.  My favorite was boiled beans, drizzled with olive oil, garlic, and sliced almonds.  Nana made enough for herself and Papa, and for her three kids and their families – all living in family built homes around the garden.

Dad picked the tomatoes – cherry, plum, and beefsteak – confident his crop was the best around.  He was especially proud of his beefsteak tomatoes.  They never failed him.  Every year he picked dozens and dozens - all huge, firm, and delicious.

I don't know when it happened, but at some point I became the designated salad maker – so lettuce, spinach, chard, and cucumbers were “my” crops.  I learned as a young child when and how to pick, and to wash the delicate leafy vegetables a few times in large tubs of cool water – turning them over and over carefully until they were clean.  Salads were made and consumed right after picking.  There was no refrigerating, storage, waiting.  Everything was fresh, healthy, and delicious.

Nobody touched the grapes and peaches but Papa, and if he needed help – well, you were closely supervised.  Papa's wine was a legend in the area, and his peach preserves were coveted by everyone in town.  Papa made the wine himself, but he and Nana made the preserves together.  There's no written recipe for either, and now that they're both long gone, the best anyone can do is keep trying to come up with a recipe as good as what we remember ….

The best of times brought the entire family to the garden – usually

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