Holy Greens

Chard is the plant that keeps on giving. It's really hard to keep up with its growth. One gardening friend of mine (no doubt still somewhat confused by overindulgence during his hippy daze) calls it the Ultimate Spinach.

Another friend was watching me prepare dinner one night and was a little horrified that I was using chard leaves that had holes chewed in them. "How can you do that?" he said, making a yuck face, "something has been eating that already."

"I know," I replied, "the insects and animals in my yard are like the royal tasters, keeping me from getting poisoned."

The way I figure it is that a perfect plant is a sign that something is wrong. If other animals don't want to eat it I get suspicious. It doesn't mean that I won't knock hornworms off the tomato plants into a bucket but usually I don't mind sharing my produce with other animals if they leave me enough for my needs. The leaves get washed well so no-one has to worry about caterpillar or bunny spit, and they get chopped into pieces anyway.

I just gathered some chard and basil from the garden a few minutes ago. Tonight I'll stir fry them with tofu, baby corncobs and mushrooms, and serve it over curried rice.