May is the first month when the garden begins to become more reliable for food. There have been years where the cold frame has provided early March greens, and sometimes dormant carrots and leeks that have been left in the soil after last Fall’s harvest can be pulled as a unfrozen treat. But newly grown vegetables are in short supply without greenhouses or other such structures. Early greens like arugula, space spinach and pak choi have graduated from the starter trays in my office to the outside beds ready for consumption. Most days we pull plenty of greens for a small salad, supplemented with wild greens like dandelions, plantain and garlic mustard. During years when the ground thaws early, sorrel makes a push with early leaves for harvest.
But it is the more substantial perennials of asparagus and rhubarb that deliver the most satisfaction.
Both start to emerge at the same time with a hint of what is to come. Rhubarb often comes first with a tiny reddish greenish ball curled into a spiral that slices its way through the manure that I deposited early Spring when harvests were limited to a few early garlic mustard plants or a kale that had wintered over. As it seems to spin out of the ground, it opens into a plate-like deep green leaf ready to catch the strengthening rays of the season to accelerate its growth. And with a few good soakings my rhubarb lives up to this promise with others in its clump following suit.
Soon the tiny leaves have tripled or more in size supported by ever thickening red-green stalks that are cupped as are those of an ostrich fern, from which I can later harvest fiddleheads. In this initial growth spurt, flower buds emerge ready to be pollinated though they often never get the chance as I cut them to maximize the growth of the stalks.
Asparagus attacks the Spring differently with a tiny white tip poking out of the soil before it extends toward to sun and greens up. White asparagus is truly a labor of love as each day requires a piling of soil around the stalks as the grow to ensure they don’t produce chlorophyll and turn green. I enjoy to watch the growth of the green variety, however, as each spear races it its attempt to get tall and become a fern. A spear can grow 3-6 inches every day, which gives a small harvest window by which the most tender examples can be sampled.
In the early season, I often sample the first spear myself by snapping one off by hand and popping it into my mouth. Unlike the store bought variety that comes from as far as Argentina, home-grown asparagus doesn’t require much if any cooking. It can be eaten raw as part of a salad or just by itself presented in a tall glass as would freshly baked breadsticks.
Rhubarb can’t be sampled with the same immediacy as it requires cooking, which happens for a longer period of time in the form of strawberry-rhubarb pie, rhubarb upside down cake, rhubarb chutney, and other seasonal delights. Most of the family looks forward to these treats though Juana is dismissive of the plant that she calls, “a vegetable disguised as a fruit.” Over the years, however, she has come to appreciate it a bit more—or at least not be nearly as dismissive.
The peas have started to throw out tendrils wrapping their way up the fencing and the first flowers have started to emerge from the strawberries portending a sweeter harvest in the next month. But after a long winter of store-bought fare, there is nothing like the first substantial samplings from your garden.
