Fingerlings

Last week I visited my friend Topiary on the day she redesigned her garden. I wanted to bring her a yacon plant but didn't feel like haggling with airport security. I settled for showing her my wallet pictures: Here's Yacon when she was just a wee tuber, here's her at one month, here's what she made at harvest time...ah, I'm a gramma now! (I have a dozen or so yacon babies I have been gifting to friends).

For the record: my obsession began long before yacon became totally trendy, a foodie rage which I predict will grow over the coming year. Yacon is so in demand, it's now near impossible to order. This is why it's good to have farmer friends.

Tuber photo by Seeds of Change

Growth Cycle of a Yacon Plant

Specimens from the Alphabet Garden

Diagram by farmcore

I'm having left-brain right-brain wars as the information architect tries to collaborate with the farmer. Taxonomy is a shared sport. Sort of. My heart gets distracted by the poetry of names: "love lies bleeding." It does, doesn't it? Farm lore changes the flavor of a vegetable: Yacon is a secret among farmers. I reach into the dirt to pull up the tuberous root, native to the Andes. My fingers navigate through clusters of bulbous roots, pick a promising one. Then, excavate! Peel off the skin. Bite into a body of water. Like jicama, but gentler. Only a slight taste--unexpected and almost chemical. Saffron?