Scapes. Misunderstood
and underutilized. The flowering parts
of garlic that, due to thousands of years of domestication, never really develops
into flowers. I fell in love with
growing garlic 5 years ago. There is
something magical about separating one head of papery bulb into cloves, burying
them in the ground in the fall and getting 6-8 two foot tall leafy plants the
following spring. By mid July, I’m
harvesting plump, fragrant bulbs of garlic, creamy white and streaked with
purple. But my favorite part of growing
garlic is still when the scapes emerge.
They usually begin to
appear in early June. Long, slender
stems that curl into graceful swooping arcs.
They turn and spiral, twisting into forms only nature could
sculpt. Perfect balance exists between sturdy,
intricate stem and the long, tapering bud.
The bud can reach a foot long,
alluding to a magnificent flower that never comes. Most home garlic growers cut the scapes off,
giving the garlic plant more energy to put into developing a large bulb. At first, I didn’t know what to do with
them. I’d save a couple and tuck them
into flower arrangements. They lent
grace to vases of peonies and lady’s mantel, but their garlicky aroma kept me
from using them for long. Most often,
they were trucked to the compost with the next morning’s coffee grounds.
One day, at the farmer’s market, I saw them at a stall run
by my favorite old Hmong women. Her
limited English and my non-existent understanding of any variation of Hmong
language never really seems to get in the way.
She’s always slightly alarmed when I buy an overflowing tray of bird chilies. “Hot!” she yells. Then pokes at one of the bored grandchildren
helping her run the stall. “She wants me
to tell you they’re spicy,” they sigh and go back to fidgeting on their i-phones. I
picked up the scapes and asked her what to do with them. “Eat
them,” she said, and pantomimed eating from a fork and rubbed her belly,
smiling. She called to a slightly more
helpful grandchild than usual. “You cook
them like asparagus or green beans,” the young woman said. “Like bean,” nodded
the old woman.
I was delighted to figure out what to do with them. This year, garlic was awarded a position on
the boulevard. The boulevard at our
house acts as a small field of sorts.
Last year I grew barley. This
year, I’m growing garlic and squash. Last
fall I plunked 4lbs of garlic in the ground and have been rewarded with a
healthy stand of garlic plants and an abundance of scapes. That’s
alright with me. There’s nothing as
impressive as handing someone a Bloody Mary with a pickled scape hanging over
the edge.
To pickle garlic scapes
Blanch scapes: Bring
a medium size pot of water to a rapid boil.
Working in batches, plunge whole scapes in the boiling water for 30
seconds. Remove from the water and
submerge in an ice bath.
Pack blanched scapes into pint jars, separating them individually
so they don’t get too tangled. Stuff in
3 or 4 sprigs of fresh dill and 1-2 dried chili pods.
Make the brine: For
each pint jar, put 1 Cup cider vinegar, 1 cup water, 2 tsp kosher salt, and 1
tsp white sugar in a non-reactive pot.
Bring just to a boil and poor into pint jars over scapes. Be sure to cover the scapes fully. Wipe the rim of the jar and secure the
lid. At this point, you may continue to
canning, but I just keep mine in the fridge.
If not canned, refrigerate for up to 4 months. The longer they sit, the
better they get.
