Category Heirloom tomatoes

An introduction to gardens, weeds and groundhogs

gotofarms 5 Comments

I confess, I am not a farmer. Until now, I had not grown much more than a bunch of kale.

The mighty groundhog poses for a picture after feasting on the community gardens in Druid Hill Park. I was looking for a just ripened tomato for a sandwich when I encountered him.

Maybe you can tell, by Farm-finds, that I am in awe of farmers who nourish the earth, using the least harmful methods, those tough men and women who dig and seed and nourish the earth with their smart ways. And bottom line, I love to eat local food– like the luscious white peaches, heirloom tomatoes and plump blackberries, whose tastes that defy poetry. The closer I get to the source of the food, the more local, down to the dirt, the better it is. All thanks to the farmers whom I know.

I have been into the beauty of the cultivated land, not the hands-on, dirt-digging, chicken shit spreading, weed pulling gardening. That is, until this spring, when my friend Rob, renowned for his heirloom tomato crops, recruited me to help in his garden. Rob’s book, Raising Kids and Tomatoes, is full of wonderful anecdotes that made it all sound fun and delicious. Plus I am a recent convert to tomatoes, owing to a tomato sandwich, made with a Cherokee Purple from his garden last year.

Since he had back surgery, he needed someone to help plant and weed. I took the challenge and the chance to learn in depth about gardening, from the ground up. Was this a Tom Sawyer scheme?

Trying to support the overbearing tomato plant

Rob had a plot that he had heard about from our mutual friend Stephanie a few years ago–a space about the size of a pickleball court in the Druid Hill City Farm that he rents for $35 a year from the city in Druid Hill Park. You won’t find a more dedicated, ethical group than these urban farmers.

One of 80 in the park, each plot has access to water, wood chips, pathways–and weeds.

A view of the community garden at Druid Hill

I helped out with planting the seeds under a grow light and nurturing them to hardy plants to put into the soil, with a dollop of fertilizer and compost. The seeds of Heirloom Brandywine, Glacier and Cherokee Purple were dropped in holes.

May: tomatoes are growing furiously

By May, the plants were robust and healthy. To support the unwieldy growth, we placed the bushy plants in cages and staked the bold branches that were growing overburdened with little green globes. In exchange for my help, I got to plant flowers-- columbine, bells of Ireland, marigolds and beebalm along with the old standby--zinnia.

A week ago, the garden was looking good. Clusters of tomatoes had popped out, a smudge of pink on the curve, ready to redden with a bit more sun. Cucumbers, as big as baby baseball bats, lay in pleasant slumber growing under the vines. Basil was high as my thumb.

July: Weeds and groundhogs invade

But like a bad omen on the flower front, my flowers were struggling in a mass of weeds to survive. Cosmos, which I thought, would almost grow automatically if you put the seeds in the ground, were overwhelmed. The last of the marigolds which sported big yellow pompoms like corsages on stems were nibbled to the ground. And only one columbine out of the 40 seeds planted survived. Not a great record, one out of 40. The tomatoes, however, were low hanging fruit, ready to pluck in a few days.

Upon return from a 4th of July vacation, I was craving that tomato sandwich. I thought the tomatoes would be ready.

OMG! the tomatoes that were hanging in those inviting clusters had disappeared. A few shards of tomatoes were at the bottom with bites taken out.

I was furious at who and what could have stolen these gems. How how could a critter have gotten to the top of the plant? Had a human being stolen them?

Vanishing plants

According to Rob, there is a powerful ethic at the gardens. The urban gardeners don’t take any fruit or vegetables from one another, not even a strawberry. Everyone appreciates the sweat and muscle ache of gardening to harvest. More likely, judging from the size of the bites and the numbers of bitten green tomatoes on the ground, a ground hog was on the loose, as was the case last year.

It is so discouraging! What is the point if we are just feeding the ground hog?

Word of the invasion soon spread that day, and fellow gardeners sprang into action. A burrow, probably home to a whole family of the critters, was located and a strategy was hatched to set a trap. True to their strong sense of ethics, someone would be checking the trap every day so the culprit could be freed in woods far away from our tomatoes and other inviting delicacies. I wasn’t feeling so kind; I could have kicked it to the moon. Striding through the plots and observing other bitten fruits, Julia, the director, in well-worn overalls, suggested other ideas; bright whirley gigs can scare them off, she said. Also she may bring in some used kitty litter to line along the borders; groundhogs don’t like its smell.

Did we mind the kitty litter? she asked.

Not at all. Anything to stop the rampage.

All this action was encouraging but it didn’t bring back the tomatoes.

Taking action to defeat the groundhog

Looking over the garden-jungle, I was so depressed. i sat on a weed-covered mound and stared at the jungular grass mass, tight as a rug, that had replaced the cosmos. Weeds were now up to my knees. They could cover the world!

Are you discouraged? I asked Rob. He was glum, sitting on a stool pulling up weeds around the ravaged tomato plants. In vengeance, I attacked the stubborn things with a hoe and piled them into the wheelbarrow. The sweat poured down my face, the dirt lodged under my nubbed down fingernails as I dug out the roots and shook out the soil and dropped weeds in the wheelbarrow to cart to the compost pile.

Within the hour, I sowed 25 Cosmos seeds in the bare square of soil. Hope springs eternal.

In that action, replanting, I built my hopes back up, that this time the seeds would survive and we would rescue the seedlings before they could succumb to any critters, drought or weeds. The marigolds were gone, cosmos mowed down, but — the zinnia were flourishing in such a undaunted display of bright pink, orange and yellow it renewed my spirit.

The zinnia are flourishing

There were still some green tomatoes left to ripen. I collected enough basil for pesto, and four cucumbers, for a sandwich or cold soup.

Mayo, plus onion and thinly sliced cuke is good, but not as good as the tomato version!~

Three days later. . . I went out to the garden to cut some zinnias for a friend. The tomato plants, bending with the weight of green fruit, were towering over the trap, set up by a neighboring gardener. There was the culprit groundhog, round as a basketball, appearing to lick his mouth after his feast, in the cage. He looked up at me, as if to say, thanks for all the great tomatoes. Around him, I assessed more damage:tomatoes with tiny bites taken out. He must have had a feast before the cage door shut.

I called Rob, who then notified Julia, who will make sure he finds a happy home away from the garden before the day is over.

It's  only a matter of a few days before those green gems ripen and I have my tomato sandwich; the Cherokee Purple, on textured white bread slathered with Duke's.

Groundhog trapped, at least for a day

On my way out, I announce triumphantly to a toiling neighbor-gardener that we had caught the groundhog. In his plot, he was surveying cabbage which the groundhog had dined on earlier, maybe as an appetizer. I thought he’d be happier about the news. He’s experienced, persistent as the critters and the weeds, as you have to be in this business.

He said he had a garden in the Shenandoah Valley a few years ago. He trapped two groundhogs and took them five miles away to another place way up in the mountains in the woods.

“The next day both were back,” he said, turning back to weeding.

Tomatoes ready to ripen–without the groundhog

R-VA Tomatoes, all shapes and colors, reign in peak harvest in Hanover County, Virginia

gotofarms Leave a comment

How I became a tomato lover after decades of detesting the fruit

Hanover County, Va.  — I have never liked tomatoes. 

This is not a wise statement to say here in Hanover County, Virginia, when I was visiting the home of Master Tomato Growers David Hunsaker and Barbara Hollingsworth in the middle of peak harvest.

Barbara Hollingsworth and David Hunsaker display the day’s tomato crop on the pool table (right) and in flats (left).

I just don’t like the texture or acidity, I tell them. 

“Maybe you didn’t have any good ones,” suggests David, as he offers me a  Sun Gold cherry, the size of a golf ball.  Tomatoes, in a mosaic of brilliant greens, reds, dark purples and yellow in all different shapes, just picked this morning, are spread out for sorting on a pool table in the couple’s basement.

Barbara sorts the cherry tomatoes for restaurant customers, ensuring each pint is full of prime specimens. Blemishes are the mark of heirlooms

I popped the tomato in my mouth—tarter than a plum, as juicy as an orange, and sweet as honey, unlike any tomato I have ever seen or tasted.

Today under the name Village Garden RVA, they grow over 325 varieties, as well as 100 types of chiles, using sustainable and organic practices.  “We like to experiment. We look for old and obscure tomatoes,” David says. The heirlooms range from the hefty 3-pound Goatbag, in the shape of a goat’s udder, to the petite Sun Gold cherry.   There’s the misshapen, dark purple Ukrainian, and the bright red Reisentraube, the hiking tomato that you can break easily into sections without dripping juice. The Oxheart, a seedless dense kind with 20 different variations, is their favorite.

Blue Beauty, not quiet ripe
A sample of the many different kinds of cherries they grow
Royal King of Siberia
Tomatoes grow like pears, plums and cherries
The hiker’s tomato, in segments that break away for easy biting

“Diversity is the key, I mean it in every sense. We are a very accepting couple of people. We want to reinforce the diversity of nature. We want people to appreciate all the shapes and colors and tastes of these amazing fruit.”

David Hunsaker, Tomato Farmer

Tomato Paradise

Dating back to the 1800s, Hanover County, Virginia, has been known for its luscious tomatoes. In their one-acre plot, David and Barbara have created “a tomato paradise,” in the words of Food and Wine magazine. They’ve built up a following among Virginia chefs and foodies who love the complex, varied flavors which they can’t get in the typical supermarket. Heirlooms do not travel well in crates.  They get smushed and mishandled, says David. Refrigeration, used to extend shelf life, robs the tomatoes of flavor and texture.

What makes the Hanover tomatoes so delicious?

“It’s the soil,” says David.  A loamy mix with a touch of clay exists in Hanover County only on the east side of 95, along the Eastern Seaboard Fall Line that intersects with the Coastline. Their garden is situated on a slope, protected by a forest from frost. The climate is perfect, with cold nights and hot days and just the right amount of rain as opposed to more precipitation in the mountainous regions around Charlottesville.

David heads down the slope with tomatoes, at that point in the land where the Eastern Coastline and Piedmont intersect. Their tomatoes flourish in the unique soil mix of Hanover County.

When David retired from a career as a health care executive in 2004, he bought the ten acres of forested land next door to a horse farm, adjoining a suburban development in Mechanicsville–located a few miles west of Interstate 95 between Richmond and Washington. Growing up in a poor coal-mining community in southwest Virginia, he wanted to grow the heirloom tomatoes that sustained his family during hard times. He cleared a few acres and built a greenhouse for a small vegetable garden.  When he met Barbara, who shared his love of farming, they began growing and selling 50 different varieties at local farmers’ markets in 2011.

Tomato heirloom boom

“After the market, we had all these tomatoes,” Barbara recalls. “We started going to restaurants in Richmond, taking them in the truck.”  Most chefs were just starting to work in the afternoon. “They would come out to the truck and would say, what are you doing?  Where did these come from?”  They were sold. At one time, they made kimchi and bottled herbal blends to sell, but the tomato has taken priority.  It has all morphed into a business and lifestyle as rewarding as it is delicious. 

They select seeds from specialty catalogues and plant over 4,000 seedlings in tiny containers in February. The couple works every stage to the end of the harvest in August. “We’re it. We grow from seed.  It’s very hard work,” David says. He adds, it is not a lucrative business, grossing no more than $30.000 a year; they are lucky to have savings.

“We are in love and love what we do,” David adds.

On my tour of the tomato garden, David and Barbara pick specimens in the first blush of ripeness to take to their customers in the afternoon. Beside the tomatoes, chili plants are flourishing in a geodesic dome, and a big banana tree shades a corner of the garden. While heirloom varieties are more subject to blight and disease, no bugs, rotting tomatoes, or significant weeds intrude on the neat rows.

David and Barbara gather tomatoes that show a faint blush of color to ripen perfectly in the next few days

Barbara hands me sweet tomatoes from the vines to try—a lovely peach tomato and a unique coin-sized fruit, covered in a gauzy husk—Aunt Molly’s  ground cherry.  I savor the sweet, tropical flavors of this tomatillo.

No wonder the top chefs and foodies are going wild over the rich, diverse tastes of heritage tomatoes. The demand has increased so much that they no longer make the rounds of farmers’ markets.  Only Yellow Umbrella Provisions in Richmond carries RV tomatoes.

RVA tomatoes find a place in high end restaurants

During Covid, Jason Tesauro, sommelier at Barboursville winery, David and Barbara, hatched the idea of Supper/Summer Somm, a series of dinners developed by top chefs in Virginia and DC to showcase their heirlooms.  (Find out where and when here)  In addition, David and Barbara opened their home to a limited number of diners  July 16 for a Tomato Jubilee with music, tours of the tomato garden,  forest walks, free favors, courtesy of their sponsor Duke’s mayo and more. 

The restaurants promote the name R-V tomatoes, or RVA,  on their menus with the same zeal they reserve for Napa Valley wines.  For last year’s Tomato Jubilee Extravaganza, L’auberge Chez Francois, rated the top French restaurant in the Washington, D.C. area, featured  fresh heirloom R-V gazpacho and R-V tomato and herb-crusted local sauteed rockfish on its 7-course menu.  In Barboursville Friday August 4, Executive Chef Michael Clough is preparing R-V tomatoes in focaccia, risotto and a local peach tart with tomato gelato, among other items, to be paired with Barboursville wines for $155 per person.

RV tomatoes on the menu for last year’s Extravaganza at L’Auberge Chez Francois in Great Falls, Virginia, just outside Washington. This year’s is August 6.

The ultimate tomato sandwich

Back in the living room, laying down a flat full of fresh tomatoes, David asks if I would like a tomato sandwich, something I have avoided all my life.  With the introduction of these unique tastes, I decide to try it.

He slices three small fresh yellow gems and lathers two pieces of white bread with Duke’s mayonnaise.  “Only the cheap white bread and Duke’s mayonnaise, with a little salt and pepper,” says David. I take one bite and devour it in six luscious bites.  I’m a total convert now. 

The ultimate tomato sandwich that converted me to heirloom tomato lover

Is this on the menu of the high-end restaurants?

No, says David, but all the chefs love tomato sandwiches , made exactly this way. With a fresh R-V tomato, it’s a gourmet lunch.

######

What are R-V growing secrets for the best-ever tomatoes? Here are David’s answers to questions:

He begins, “The big issue is plant as deep as possible to give you a better root structure.”

How do you fight blight?

You can’t avoid blight. But you can reduce the chances with sterilized compost, of 3-4 inches, refreshed each year so you don’t have pathogens from last year.

Carefully pinch leaves off from the bottom of the plant.

Avoid over-watering.  Water from the ground up, without splashing any water on the leaves or fruit.  Keep tomatoes off the ground.

How do you avoid chemicals?

We use fresh compost and a mushroom mix that we order.

Spray with soapy water to kill aphids. Castile soap, unscented, mixed with water. In the greenhouse, nwem oil  and pyretheum, can wipe out other tough pests.

Do you use stakes or string to support towering plants?

Both. Set stakes 8 feet apart. We create an ellipse, twisting the twine (sisal) from stake to stake. It’s called the Florida weave.

How do you avoid refrigeration?

Eat.