Fools Rush In and Plant Potatoes

Usually we try to follow the handy rule of thumb: Plant your potatoes on St. Patrick's Day (March 17). It provides something to aim for and has a certain poetic appeal. I don't think I've ever hit the day exactly but we generally manage to get a few tubers under the dirt by the end of the month. My own rule of thumb is: Plant on St. Patrick's Day (i.e. in March) and have potato salad for the 4th of July.






This year there was so much rain in March that the backyard was as soggy as an Irish bog. (See Lake Chard pictured above.) I had almost decided not to bother with potatoes at all.

Then, on a rainy afternoon, I came across some seed potatoes at the new Baker Creek store -- the Seed Bank -- in downtown Petaluma. Sprawled across the splendid marble floor of what actually was a bank a few years back were some burlap bags of Red Lasoda and Small Carola from David Little's farm near Tomales. I weighed some out and brought them home.

It wasn't hard to set up a couple of containers, fill the bottoms with a layer of potting soil, and press the potatoes into the soil.

I hope there's no significance to the fact that the potatoes were planted on April Fool's Day, not St. Patrick's Day. I guess we will find out by the 4th of July.

A Fragrant Winter Soup

We ended the shortest day of the year with a warm, fragrant, and comforting winter soup that started out as a minestrone but didn't make it that far. The mushroom broth enlivened with vegetable juices and just a touch of fennel seed was so good that B. didn't want to weigh it down with beans and pasta. So it ended up as a simple vegetable soup. A spinkling of fresh grated parmesan cheese, and some homemade whole grain bread rounded out a cozy meal.






Along with garden chard, the backyard contributed some blue potatoes to our solstice dinner. This was a second surprise harvest from the little patch that won't quit. There was already one volunteer harvest earlier this year and then, on November 26, I dug up the pile pictured above. All of these went into tonight's soup, which was already special but became even more so.

Volunteer Potatoes

Here's the harvest of All Blue potatoes. It's the second year in a row these plants have come up on their own. It's gotten so I expect to see them come back. Hi fellas!






An unexpected guest was this vigorous volunteer potato plant spilling out of the compost bin.






Here's the whole harvest. I don't usually turn the compost, but it was worth it this time to unearth the treasure. And, as a bonus, the compost will be riper for spreading on fall beds.

These potatoes are clearly fingerlings of some kind. The leaves looked quite different from the Russian Bananas, with extra small lobes that made them appear ruffled. I think I recall some small packages of French fingerlings that sprouted and got tossed. Welcome back!

Mr. Potato Head: The Sequel

Ahhh, the best laid plans . . . .

The second Mr. Potato Head, it must be said, is disappointingly similar to his progenitor. What that means is that the whole crop of Russian Banana Fingerlings isn't dramatically bigger than what was put in ground to produce it!






And here is the entire crop of Yukon Gold potatoes.

What went wrong? It's hard to know for sure, but I did notice that in both potato containers the spuds grew only in the bottom layer of loose, rich dirt. Perhaps adding the layers of straw was not a good idea. The straw ended up getting packed in pretty tight and may have reduced air circulation. Next year I will try filling the containers only with soil and compost.






But there was still enough to bring to the table. Putting both crops together yielded just enough potatoes for our Fourth of July mini-feast of deviled eggs, fruit salad with yogurt, veggie burgers with garden lettuce and -- ta da! -- potato salad.

Looking back to April when I was calculating Days to Maturity and planning future menus, it's clear that nothing is guaranteed:

April 23: "So I'm anticipating a Yukon Gold potato salad in early June, ten weeks from planting time in late March, and, about five weeks later, in mid-July, one of B.'s fabulous potato pizzas made with Russian Banana Fingerlings."

Here's what really happened:

The early season Yukons (70 to 90 DTM) were harvested on July 3, 97 days after planting, a week longer than the maximum expected growing time.

The late season Fingerlings (105 to 135 DTM) were harvested earlier, on June 27, 91 days after planting, which is two weeks less than the minimum expected growing time.

I harvested when the plants were yellowed and falling over. There were hardly any immature potatoes in the containers, so waiting longer would not have made a difference.

As I said, the best laid plans . . . .

Potatoes: 40 Days and Counting

Both sets of potatoes grew enough last week to require layers of compost and straw. For the Russian Fingerlings (at the top of the photo), it was the second application; for the Yukon Golds (lower left), it was the first. The Fingerlings are mounded up so high now in their basket planter that the whole thing looks like some kind of giant muffin with weird green decorations.

It's been forty days since planting. There's a month to go -- if all goes well -- until Fingerling potato salad, and two months to go until Yukon potato pizza. Maybe I should start X-ing off the days on the calendar. . . .

Potato Update

The Russian Banana Fingerling potatoes have grown six inches or so above the soil and it is time to hill them up. In this case it means adding a layer of compost and a layer of straw to the planting basket. Easily done when the materials are on hand.

Meanwhile the Yukon Gold potatoes are coming along. The sprouts which were just peeking out of the soil last week have formed sturdy little clusters of dark green leaves.

Second Potato Sprout

The Yukon Gold potatoes are now visible. Yay!

Even though slower to sprout than the Russian Fingerlings, they are billed as an early season variety, 70 to 90 days to maturity -- at least according to Territorial Seeds.





The Fingerlings are late season, 105 to 135 days. They have grown a lot in the past week and despite the classifications, appear to be well ahead of the Yukons.

I've been trying to find out exactly what is meant by "days to maturity" and there does not seem to be a clear consensus. In general, it means from planting time to harvest time, although some sources seem to count from germination to harvest. For tomatoes, eggplant, and other plants that are generally put out as transplants, it means from the time they go in the ground until harvest.

And the measures are not precise because they are greatly affected by growing conditions, which can vary wildly. I guess the main point of it all is to allow general comparison of different plants and varieties for better planning.

So I'm anticipating a Yukon Gold potato salad in early June, ten weeks from planting time in late March, and, about five weeks later, in mid-July, one of B.'s fabulous potato pizzas made with Russian Banana Fingerlings.

Now that's a plan!

First Potato Sprout!

In the lower right quadrant of this photo is the first tiny furl of potato leaf: a sprout of the Russian Banana Fingerlings planted on March 28, two-and-a-half weeks ago. They are a 100-days-to-maturity variety, but I'm not sure when to begin counting. From planting? From sprouting?

The other green fragments must have blown into the planter basket and -- judging by the chomp marks -- are providing fodder for the sow bugs. Lets hope they stick to the odd green fragment and stay away from the sprout. Back away from the sprout!

There is another sprout in the basket that hasn't unfurled yet, it still has that charming shepherd's-crook bend as it forces its way through the soil into the light.

So it begins.

Mr. Potato Head

Finally! Some potatoes went into the ground today. The smiley faced Mr. Potato Head is a basket of Russian Banana Fingerling potatoes.

Planting in containers is the only way I've found to foil the gophers who are capable of taking most of a crop. I think that is what must of happened to the Gro-Bed full of All Blue potatoes in 2008. Last year's crop consisted of the volunteer remnants which came up on their own, an unexpected treat, and provided enough to accessorize a couple of meals.

Usually we try to plant potatoes on or near St. Patrick's Day -- an old Irish custom so I'm told. In past years, when we planted by St. Patrick's Day we had ingredients for Fourth of July potato salad. Since our potato endeavors are strictly a boutique operation, usually there's enough for a good-sized salad but not much more.

My brother back in Virginia, who is a farmer at heart although he too has only his yard, sent me some photos of his potato patch last year: a long lush row of perfectly hilled plants, complete with tiny granddaughter and friend digging out the treasure trove.




So far this year we have the basket of Russians and a container of Yukon Golds. They came from David Baldwin at Natural Gardening, who is always a pleasure to buy from and is about as local as you can get -- although it's a national mail-order company. (I always feel pleased when I plan ahead enough to actually order something on time.)

And potatoes are so much fun to grow. I like every stage of the process. Burying the seed potatoes like secret treasure, waiting for the first sturdy shoots, covering the stems with successive layers of compost and straw, enjoying the flowers, and at last the payoff: groping around in the dark, rich soil for the satisfyingly solid, rounded spuds.