Garlic scapes are one of the pleasures of June on the farm and, over the past few weeks, conversation among the farm crew has often turned to anticipation of their arrival, speculation as to when that might be, and plans for how to eat them. The scape is a tender shoot that grows from the top of each garlic plant as spring turns to summer. We cut them off to encourage the plant to put its energy into the bulb beneath the soil and to enjoy their mellow flavor in everything from garlic scape pesto to compound butter. Since each plant produces just one scape, cooking them is an annual opportunity to stop and savor the fleeting taste of the season's change.
To eat seasonally is to practice a different kind of timekeeping, one that resists the relentless ticking of clocks and rigid boxes of days on a calendar. It is, instead, to amble from moment to moment, season to season, with the expectation of joy. The garlic scapes appear when they appear in the spring. The tomatoes ripen when they ripen in the summer. And some crisp morning in the fall we awaken to the first frost and rejoice that the carrots and the kale and the spinach have sweetened while we slept.
I write this in part to remind myself to savor even the most weary moments during this hectic, harried season on the farm. The days are long, yes, but they are full—full, just for now, with the spicy scent of rye pollen in the air, with the sound of a song sparrow at the edge of the pasture, with the flavor of the year’s only harvest of garlic scapes.
Your farmer,
Zach
