Growing cilantro

This is the farm’s cilantro patch. The coriander plant thrives in cooler weather.

We’re starting the CSA in the second week of June, and this cilantro will probably be ready to cut then. We’ll clear-cut the mature stems, leaving short stubble that will produce a new batch.

Cilantro is the herb name for the plant’s leaves. The plant itself is coriander, and its seeds are the spice of the same name. The entire plant is edible, including the roots. Cilantro leaves and stems are best fresh, since the flavor all but vanishes when dried.

Jason starts cilantro from seed in the basement, under grow lights, and we transplant the little clumps in very early spring. Cilantro thrives in cold weather, while heat makes it prone to bolt, or go to seed.

Some cooking websites say cilantro doesn’t store well. This definitely is not the case with fresh-cut stems. We cut cilantro when it’s cool, in early morning, before the plant absorbs field heat. If you put the cool stems and leaves (unwashed) in a baggie or container with a good seal, they’ll last for plenty long. Just wash before use, and chop the leaves and stems together.

While cilantro calls to mind salsa and guacamole, it adds another layer to many dishes, like a bowl of pho. However, not everyone is a fan. Some people appear to have a genetic aversion to the herb, and it smells like soap to them.

Coriander seems to have been grown by the Greeks since at least the second millennium BC. The plant journeyed to the Americas in the 1600s.

~ Stella

Rethinking fresh herbs

Oregano grows in one of the high tunnels. If you chew a fresh leaf, it tastes entirely different than dried or cooked oregano. It's spicy, with a clean, fresh, minty aftertaste.

The soil in the Big Tunnel is dark brown and fluffy. This comes after several hard-fought years of being worked and amended. In the back corner of the tunnel, there’s a patch of oregano. Swirling my fingers around the plants to smote weeds before they even have a chance to sprout has a hypnotic effect. Sifting the earth, brushing the leaves, and releasing that soothing, oregano aroma almost sinks me in a trance.

Herbs are one of the best things about the farm, or any garden, from backyard havens to windowsill setups. Not only are they food and medicine, they’re an experience wholly removed from the speed of daily life. The aroma of a fresh herb tethers you to the moment, whether standing at the kitchen counter with sprigs of rosemary, or steeping a cup of mint tea.

Catching a whiff of fresh basil returns me to early mornings in a high tunnel, the sun pale yellow through the plastic. Shifting through the bright green plants and pinching the tender stems has a heady effect. It’s beautiful, but powerful, filling the air in the tunnel and testifying to the strength of plants, to help heal, to alter, or even to harm. My time on the farm, and filling my body with fresh herbs and produce, gives me a respect for plants, and an appreciation of their role on the planet and in a human’s daily health.

In an essay, cookbook author Olia Hercules wrote that herbs have a way of “freshening you up from within.” Hercules wrote about how certain cultures eat herbs as if they were vegetables, not just treating them as garnishes.

This idea was new and intriguing. It led me to put big handfuls of fresh herbs in soups and other foods. Yesterday, making a creamy soup, I blended in a heap of fresh oregano. It was the star of the bowl, the flavor smoothly pulling all the other vegetables together. And it created a small, warm pocket of a moment. A gift from the soil to us.

~ Stella