Tasty tomato? Save some seeds!

In retrospect, I am thinking I should have maybe saved some seeds from this weekend's Tastiest Tomato contest instead of scarfing my samples quite so quickly. Those yellow ones were especially delicious, but by now the seeds are somewhere in my lower intestine. Alas.



In truth, saving seeds for replanting is not that difficult, especially for things like pumpkins or melons or peppers. Or, of course, tomatoes. I'd gone to a workshop on seed saving a couple of years ago, and have dabbled in saving my own ever since. (Incidentally, I've got a stockpile of dried fenugreek pods in case anyone wants to try growing it next year. I use it in Indian food, though apparently it is also a natural supplement for increasing breast milk. Seems like a disproportionate number of friends have kids they're nursing these days, so I could suddenly become the recently neglected friend they start calling again for an herbal supplement. Anyway....) After mom asked me a few months ago, and then a series of friends have inquired about how to save seeds in recent weeks, it occurred to me that perhaps some of my fellow food lovers might appreciate some basic instructions for capturing some of their favorite nightshade seeds for replanting.

I recall one older farmer I'd met along my cross-country research telling me that the way she'd always done it was if someone in the house bit into a tomato and it was especially delicious, they would scoop out the seeds, smear them on a piece of paper, and save them for planting the next year. I suppose one's method could be a little more refined and scientific than that -- recording which variety one is eating, for instance, so you'll know what you're planting -- but the steps would be pretty much the same.

Simple Tomato Seed Saving

1. Cut or bite into a tomato.
2. If it's delicious, scoop out some of the seeds.
3. Plunk them into a small jar with some clean water, seal with a lid, and shake well.
4. Let the tomato seed mush jar ferment for a few days on the counter -- this will separate the seeds from the gelatinous stuff.
5. Rinse off the tomato seeds.
6. Smear the clean seeds across an unused paper coffee filter (or other clean and sturdy paper)
7. Air dry seeds on the filter/paper for a few days.
8. Seal your dried seeds in an airtight container and keep somewhere cool and dark til you're ready to plant.

That's it, you're done. No need to buy tomato seeds next year! A single, scrumptious tomato yields hundreds of seeds, so you might even think about saving some for a seed swap this fall....

Is it me, or was that place a little seedy?

Have you ever tasted a really amazing tomato from the farmers' market or your neighbor's back yard? Ever wonder how to save seeds from it and grow your own? Okay, sure, I don't have food plants in my backyard plot *yet* -- I just (re)weeded it and loosened the soil this morning -- but when I do, I want to know how to save and share some seeds from the heirloom varieties I'm hoping to grow. Last night I learned just that while meeting a number of other sustainable food and community building types at a workshop at the Emergence Community Arts Collective. The process is a little more sophisticated than simply smearing a hunk of tomato on a paper bag (which was all of the guidance I'd previously acquired on the subject), but I am happy to say that it wasn't as difficult or mysterious as I'd feared. In fact, it was pretty fun.

A few days ago my friend Arkady mentioned a free seed saving workshop that was being given by Ecolocity -- a transition town activist group based here in DC -- with the help of a small Washington Parks and People grant for materials (but alas no money for the instructors, who do the work out of the goodness of their hearts). After an intro talk about the importance of saving seeds that might've been subtitled "Top 10 reasons why Monsanto sucks" -- sing it, sister -- the workshop leader got down to the business at hand: how to save our own seeds for planting the following growing season. With our packet of info that included step-by-step instructions and tips for harvesting and storing the tiny treasures, the motley crew of participants split into three smaller groups to collect seeds from tomatoes, peppers, and watermelons. I chose tomatoes, partly because I'd heard they were the most challenging and partly because I have tomatoes on my countertop right now that may be contenders for seed saving. (And, okay, also partly because I was hoping to nibble on the leftover heirloom beauties once we removed the seeds. I'd stopped for a beer at Meridian Pint en route to the gathering and was feeling a bit peckish: the tomatoes looked the most delicious and substantial of the three options.)

I like hands-on learning, and this was exactly the kind of practical experience I was hoping for. Slice, scoop, ferment, rinse, dry, store. I made the rounds, ultimately departing with a jar of fermenting tomato seeds, a baggie of freshly harvested pepper seeds, and a bellyful of watermelon. I can't wait to start my first batch of these seeds next winter on my windowsill. In the meantime, I look forward to attending other workshops that Ecolocity is planning in coming months, including one on canning (so I can enjoy tomatoes and apples and such through the winter) and lasagna composting (to build richer organic soil, and for which my parents' back yard may be my test plot over the winter, heh heh).

For those interested in getting a copy of the instruction packet or list of additional resources on seed saving, drop me an e mail and I'll see if I can send you a scanned copy -- it seems like a pretty open-source kind of group. Or you can contact Ecolocity directly via their website or facebook page. Now should you be looking for a few *recipes* for the remains of your post-seed-harvested veggies, definitely shoot me an e mail. Anytime. I can think of about 26 for fresh tomatoes off the top of my head. Caprese salad with fresh basil... bruschetta with fennel fronds... gazpacho... roasted tomato and mint salsa... grilled cornbread crust pizzas... tomato corn salad... curried eggplant and tomato saute.... Oh look, it's time for a snack!

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Return of the native, Part 2

During my time in Mississippi, I had a chance to visit a second young farmer -- Horton, the driving force behind Isis Gardens. Like Will, Horton recently returned to his native Tupelo after years of working on farms elsewhere. (In his case, he was returning from Colorado.) He, too, decided that home was calling, that Mississippi was in dire need of chemical-free, responsibly grown food. He, too, moved home and began cultivating a piece of land that had been in the family for years. And yet it was a very different operation from the town's other organic farm.

When Aaron and I stopped by the CSA farm on a Friday afternoon, Horton walked us around the rambling property, excitedly pointing out various cover crops, dozens of heirloom vegetable varieties, the insectary (a plot of land set aside to attract beneficial insects), purple marten houses (to attract bug eating birds), even the inside of the Depression era home he had recently come to inhabit. It was decidedly less structured, and perhaps overgrown in places, but the green space nurtured an abundance of plant and animal diversity quite rare in these parts.

As we took a little rest in the shade of the front porch to sip on cups of cool sun tea, Genevieve joined us and the couple graciously invited Aaron and me to stay for lunch. As we munched on leftover pasta and a giant salad, and sipped on cold beers spiked with chamomile flowers, Horton expanded on his passion for seed saving. As conventional American (and global) agriculture careens at a breakneck speed toward uniformity and productivity, this young farmer remains part of a small but persistent group of growers striving to preserve quality and diversity in our food system. Perpetuating strains of corn and potatoes and beans that are all but extinct. Nurturing tomato and melon varieties from places as far away as war-torn Iraq. (Consider the very real possibility that without heirloom growers like Horton, some of these treasures may be lost forever.)

Now, I know southerners have a reputation for hospitality. I have also found organic farmers to be more welcoming and generous than the general population. Horton espouses the best of both groups, with a ready smile and openness to sharing both food and knowledge. I was just giddy when he sent me away the following afternoon with a big hug and envelopes of heirloom tomato and melon seeds from my dad's native country. I can't wait to get planting, doing my part to keep some of these rare (and delicious) species around a bit longer...

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