garden salad

We started planting lettuce last year. I don't know what took us so long. It is relatively easy to grow, and so far we have been really lucky in the rabbit and rodent department. (I am knocking wood as I type this.)

The only downside is that lettuce and tomato seasons do not overlap. I am going to experiment this summer with succession planting lettuce in the shade of other plants, and see if I can get some lettuce throughout the season. It is a really simple pleasure, but IMHO there is little that compares to going out to the garden just before dinner, gathering up your ingredients, and eating them a few minutes later. So you get to hear me go on and on about it in the annoying, evangelistic way to which gardeners are susceptible.

I started out with the yellow squash, where I got a pleasant surprise: two ready to be eaten. I sliced them very thin.

A tiny little bell pepper, not ready yet to join its buddies in the bowl.

I thought this banana pepper might be ready to go, but it was still bitter and tough. Note to self: banana peppers are supposed to be yellow.

The boys had told me the peas were in -- I planted them a little late this year but we are getting a decent crop at this point. I left the shells on, as they are so sweet, and just took off the ends and sliced them into quarter-inch pieces.

The green lettuce has bolted, thanks to the heat wave last week...

...but the red lettuce is still doing okay. A whole head joins the bowl.

A volunteer tomato plant, from last year's mega-monster cherry tomato bush (the thing took over the entire garden bed it was planted in). I found at least ten of these as I weeded while I picked. As my mom wisely says: a weed is any plant that is growing where you don't want it. This, and all its siblings, qualified as weeds.

Can you spot the non-weed in that thicket?











There it is: a teeny little baby lettuce plant. I take a few leaves from each plant.



The end haul:
Add some croutons, a little shredded cheddar and vinaigrette dressing: YUM.