Last time I posted about corn I mentioned the huge rutabaga sitting on my porch. It's still there, lurking, a volley-ball size root waiting to trip some hurried passerby. I just can't seem to muster up the desire to eat it. I've begun the yearly consolidation of vegetables from garden beds into crates and thence down into the root cellar (I, II). The beets are all in. The potatoes are all in. Alanna brought down the Belgian endive, and I saw her schlepping crates of carrots today. And the rutabagas are in.
Last year I packed away 30 or 32 crates (letter crates slightly bigger than milk crates) of turnips and rutabagas because I planted a lot of them and they performed really well. This year I learned my lesson and only planted a fraction of last year's numbers, and I still threw half the 2015 crop to the pigs. I ended up with four crates for the cellar, which truth be told, may be more than I need. The pigs love the leaves, but they're not so hot about the roots. Last winter I cooked turnips for the pigs and they wouldn't even eat them after boiling. That was the moment I gave myself permission to stop eating turnips. If pigs, eeking out an existance on an otherwise calorie deficient ration, refused to eat turnips I figured I should not feel obligated to consume them either. I kept on with the rutabagas though because they're superior to turnips in all respects. I basically lived off them for the month of June... but now that I have other options I just have no desire to add them back into the mix. I wonder if or when that will change. I hope I haven't soured myself on brassica roots forever. Ah well.
-Edmund
