Chocolate Habanero

Back in December when I threw random seeds into peat pots to see what would grow, a pepper plant did especially well.  It was a random choice, of the seed vault.  It was a Chocolate Habanero.  You can see it in my March post.  I had no idea what this pepper was, but my sister assured me that they were good.  And it wasn’t as if I had a lack of space.

The plant grew slowly but steadily, until I re-potted it and set it out on the deck.  Then, a late frost killed the growing bud, and it became bushier.  But despite this, the tenacious plant soon outgrew its pot, got re-potted, then relocated out to a barren patch by the kid’s garden.

Looking a little wilty–I think it needs a re-potting again

Then the plant exploded into bloom.  Currently, I have about 80 peppers drying in the kitchen.  So the question now is: What do I do with these?  A quick search revealed their Scoville rating to be about 350,000–well beyond most practical culinary uses.  So naturally, I experimented.

1 garlic clove, 1 tomato, 3 chocolate habaneros, olive oil, vinegar, and salt…and bam!  I call it “Habanero Death Sauce”.  Straight, it’s almost unbearable.  But mixed in small quantities with other mediums, it adds a nice bite.  I’m not sure what to do with the remaining peppers, though.  I’m thinking ninja powder to escape work meetings.

–Simon

Pumpkins (Part 2)

The pumpkins have grown, and after much discussion regarding their ripeness, I decided to harvest the first one.

It was partially out of fear that the neighbor’s kids would smash them, and I wanted at least one for carving.

Now my observations about pumpkin-growing:

Pumpkins are incredibly resource-hungry.  They want a lot of light, space, and nutrients.

Carving pumpkins are pretty pointless from a gardening standpoint.  They don’t taste good, and only serve as decorations for a few days.

Regardless, they were fun to grow and I should have more than enough for everyone’s carving needs–provided they escape a more violent and premature fate.  They also survived the vine borer plague, so yay–harvest win.

–Simon

Swallowtail (Part 2)

This was likely not the pupated adult of the caterpillar I found on the dill, and it’s also a male, which means that my gardens are the social clubs for swallowtail butterflies.  Yay butterflies!

As with most sexually-reproducing species, the male wafts his pheromones to announce his presence (cologne), flaunts his colors (“Look at my clothes and car!”), and prances about to demonstrate his virility (peels out of the parking lot/plays football).  And yet, before we laugh and denounce the painfully obnoxious mating rituals of young males, remember that these behaviors only persist because females respond to them favorably.

Unlike humans, however, butterflies are minimally destructive, and to my hearing–silent.  So they can stay.  I saw this one fluttering about in the petunias in my daughter’s garden.

A male Palilio polyxenes

He seemed irritated with my presence, constantly flying away when I got close enough to get a picture.  Eventually, I got this image.  I was hoping to get a better shot of his wings, but decided to let him be after several minutes of harassment.  Good luck finding your mate, Mr. Swallowtail.

–Simon

I’m a Tumor I’m a Tumor

I was picking tomatoes, as I’ve been know to do, and recoiled at this unpleasant sight:

It looks like it had an aborted twin.  Yuck.  Naturally, I took to the Internet for information.  Unfortunately, the seconds I spent on this avenue of research did not yield any scientific articles on this phenomenon (Google thought I wanted to know about tomatoes being used in cancer research), but I did successfully establish the commonality of this scenario among gardeners.  One gentleman had posted this:

He even went so far as to make it an annual event, and posts the winning tomato’s picture from his self-hosted contest.  Funny people, bloggers.

But all I could think about was the “I’m a tumor I’m a tumor” song.

–Simon

Mantis (Part 2)

I noted recently that my jalapeño has a guardian.  Then, while making my regular rounds, I noticed that my mustard plant too has one of these garden sprites.

Its abdomen looks like a mustard seed pod

Its not very big, and I had to fight my phone’s auto-focus to get that picture, and by then it was growing weary of my presence and had started to crawl away.  Hopefully he’s off to eat mosquitoes.

–Simon