Back Home by Chris Hardie
There has been some sort of vegetable garden on our farm for nearly 100 years, dating back to my great grandparents.
I’ve been told that my great grandmother Hilda Hardie was fond of saying that digging in the dirt was a great way to relieve stress. With all the food she grew, my great grandfather may have been a handful. All of her garden produce was canned because freezing was not an option until the late 1940s when the farm was finally electrified.
Hilda’s daughter Sara Clair also raised food and was once a partner in a short-lived business with my parents. One summer in the early 1970s they decided to till a former cow yard and raise cucumbers to sell for pickling.
I doubt there was a business plan. From a production standpoint, the concept worked, as the cucumbers thrived in the rich soil. But there was a labor shortage. Dad was too busy farming to help and the task of keeping up with the cucumbers fell to my mother and Aunt Sara – with us boys pitching in too.
When growing pickling cucumbers, bigger is not better. The smaller cucumbers fetch the highest prices. The USDA grading system for cucumbers that’s been in place since 1936 spells it out with three grades. No. 1s must be less than 3.5 inches and 1.25 inches in diameter; No. 2s not longer than 5.5 inches or 1 ⅞ inches in diameter and No. 3s are less than 6 inches and under 2.25 inches in diameter.
Actually, there is a fourth grade and that’s where most of the cucumbers landed – culls. “Culls consist of cucumbers which do not meet the requirements of the foregoing grades,” the USDA standards say.
I don’t remember how much the cucumbers brought, but driving oversized fruits 27 miles to the buyer in Independence was not repeated the next year.
The year of the cucumber patch was on my mind recently as I was picking the fruits from our garden. The row is best picked twice, as cucumbers have this uncanny ability to camouflage themselves amidst the vines and leaves. Turn over another leaf or look from a different direction and there will be three or four of them that you missed.
The hidden cukes in a couple of days will turn into what the USDA defines as overgrown. “Overgrown means that the cucumber has developed beyond the best stage for slicing,” the USDA says. “Overgrown cucumbers are generally large, and dull in color. The objectionable specimens may have tough and fibrous seeds and flesh, and may be unpalatable in flavor.”
I feed overgrown to our livestock or chickens or throw them into the weeds, but I’ve certainly seen plenty in the grocery store that fall into that category.
Like other homegrown produce, the flavor of a fresh cucumber is why we grow them. While we’ve made our share of canned pickles, we now prefer the fresher refrigerator style. I also enjoy cucumbers with just a dash of salt or in summer salads.
Last year our cucumbers didn’t grow, so we planted extra this year just to be safe. Of course nearly all of the extras came up, so we have way more than we could possibly use. I can hardly wait for the zucchini to start.
Based on my successful track record in farming – like those lucrative wool checks that contained lots of zeros – and no other digits – perhaps I should get into the cucumber business again.
Then again, that’s probably a pickled idea.
Chris Hardie spent more than 30 years as a reporter, editor
