I can hear my dad’s voice through all these years announcing the first emergence of the tender but terribly hardy little pea shoots in early spring.

“The Peas are up!”

They were eagerly anticipated every year, nothing more exciting for the northern gardener after a long winter. When we place those little seeds in the vast soil bed, ever gardener can’t help but wonder even if for only a split second, that they will actually sprout and emerge into plants. It seems impossible, but faith in those little life-bearing seeds is what keeps us going. When they do emerge, it feels nothing short of a miracle. The old wisdom dictated that if you had to roll up your sleeves when planting your peas, you waited too long. Well, this year I did wait too long, mostly because it was still snowy and windy or wet in April, and I dallied a bit. But my granddaughter and I planted both peas and radishes about 10 days ago, so we’ll be almost on schedule.

“The radishes are up!” 

After the rains of the last few days, the radishes made their appearance, but the peas are slow to follow. Even better, this is year three of my “Purple Passion” planting, a bed of asparagus hopefully for years to come. Finally, I get to actually pick and eat a harvest, and there are several shoots making their way up to the sun. Last week, I had an additional shoot, a skinny one I would not have picked, but my naughty dog decided he needed a snack.

To salt or not to salt, who knows?

My Aunt Jeanette had a beautiful asparagus patch, a thing of great pride for her. She kept the weeds down by adding salt to the soil, but I don’t recall when she did this or how much, if I ever knew any of the technicalities at all. If anyone has knowledge of this, I’d love to hear about it because weeding that bed is quite a pain! You don’t want to harm the crowns with a hoe or trowel, so it is slow work. A quick look on line and the information seems to say you should not add the salt because in the long run it can build up in the soil. All I can say is that it never seemed to bother my aunt’s superb harvest, and I know she salted every year, and her asparagus was worthy of a blue ribbon. I remember picking them with her, and eating them raw right in the garden. A good memory, easily jogged with just one bite of a fresh spear.

First harvest

While most of the kitchen garden is just a dream right now, I’ve already harvested some chives, some volunteer chervil, and a bit of perennial sorrel, one of my favorites, with its sour taste and lovely pale green color. 

The first pale green of spring

Oh that wonderful spring green! It does the heart good. The tender leaves on the trees are budding out now, first the willows and the aspens, but with the rain everything is emerging quickly. It is cherry blossom time, the first fruit trees to bloom, but soon the apple orchards will be filled with fragrance and color and hopefully lots of bees! What a magnificent site!

A little sweet and sour

Not much to use in the garden yet, but the sorrel got me to thinking of sweet and sour, always a careful balancing act like most of life. Too sweet and you feel like you are putting dessert sauce on vegetables. Too sour and no one wants to eat it. the problem is, my idea of sour might not be the same as yours, and there’s the rub. This is definitely one of those recipes you have to taste and determine how you want it, and make it your way!

A little of this and that

I had a brick of tofu pressing for dinner, a wok sitting on the stove ready for action, and lots of inspiration from the garden. Sour from the sorrel, and some local apple cider vinegar, of course. The sweet would be provided by a bit of our new harvest of maple syrup and a large pineapple my husband brought home from the health food store. Not a local harvest by any means, but with our fruits still months away, the little sweet was welcomed. Fair is fair, I’ll make sure we send plenty of our apples to Hawaii this fall, after all the little bees do their spring work.

Sweet and Sour Tofu

• ½ cup orange or pineapple juice 
• 2 tbsp. soy sauce
• 3 tbsp. apple cider vinegar
• 1 tbsp. dark amber maple syrup
• Zest and juice of one lemon
• 1 tbsp. cornstarch
• 1 brick extra firm tofu, pressed*
• Dusting of corn starch
• 2 tbsp. olive oil, divided
• 1 large Vidalia or other sweet spring onion, sliced
• About 6 oz. (200 g.) shiitake mushrooms, sliced
• 2 fat cloves garlic, minced
• About 6 oz (200 g.) each broccoli and cauliflower florets
• 1 sweet bell pepper, sliced thinly
• ½ a fresh pineapple, cubed, about 10 oz. (300 g.) or 1 can pineapple chunks 
• Handful of sorrel, arugula, or mustard greens
• Fresh chives or mint to garnish

Prep all your vegetables, as this goes quite fast when ready to cook. You can use both cauliflower and broccoli, or just one, or even add something different if that’s what you have on hand. I used the fresh pineapple my husband found, but canned works nicely here too. If you are using canned pineapple chunks, use the packing juice as part of the sauce, and look for chunks canned in juice and not heavy syrup.

Mix together the orange or pineapple juice, soy sauce, vinegar, maple syrup, lemon zest and juice, and the cornstarch. Use a whisk and blend well. Taste a bit with your finger. Do you need more vinegar? More maple syrup? This is going to be what you like, so my proportions are just a little guide, but remember the sauce will be blending with lots of other things in the pan (noteably the pineapple) adding their own sweet and sour to the mix, so the sauce should be a bit to the sour side. Once it is where you want it, set it aside.

Cube the tofu, pat it dry, and dust with cornstarch. Shake it off in a strainer to remove any excess. Heat the wok (or large skillet) to smoking hot and drizzle in one tablespoon of the oil. Add the tofu, and stir-fry until most sides are lightly browned. Remove from the pan and set aside.

Add the rest of the oil to the wok and toss in the onion. Let this cook about a minute and add the mushrooms. Once the mushrooms have softened, add the garlic, mix it up well, and toss in the broccoli and cauliflower florets, and the pepper, along with a few good grinds of black pepper. Drizzle in about a quarter cup of water, cover and let cook for a few minutes, just until the cauliflower is tender but not too soft.

Add the pineapple and tofu to the pan, mix everything up, whisk the sauce ingredients again and pour evenly over all. Toss to coat and let this cook another minute or so. Remove from heat, add the greens, cover and let sit for a minute so the greens wilt.

Plate and top with freshly minced chives and maybe a pansy or two.

This is good served atop rice, quinoa, most other grains, noodles, or couscous. 

• To press tofu, either use a tofu press, or wrap the tofu in a fresh kitchen towel on a plate, top with another plate, and weigh down with a big can of tomatoes or quart of something or other. Let the tofu drain at least 30 minutes and better is a good hour. This is the plan ahead part.

© Copyright 2026– or current year, The New Vintage Kitchen. Dorothy Grover-Read. Unattributed use of this material and photographs is strictly prohibited. Reposting and links may be used, provided that credit is given to The New Vintage Kitchen, with  active link and direction to this original post.

Supporter of:  Slow Food      Fair Trade USA         Northeast Organic Farmers Association     EcoWatch  Let’s Save Our Planet  

 No Kid Hungry    Hunger Free Vermont  Environmental Working Group   World Central KitchenDoctors without Borders  Sustainable America   Seed Savers Exchange  Global Plastics Laws
Save the Children     Vermont Farm to Plate  Unitarian Universalists Service Committee

Environmental Working Group

Still wondering if you should choose organics? This film is worth the rental: https://www.organicrisingfilm.com

Our posts and images are created by a human, not by AI. We’re happy with that!

Cherry blossom time!

Cherry Blossoms at Full Moon

“Astral Snow” slipped 

like tears of the graces

through moonlit branches.

Each tender star

In turn

sailed a single

fragrant journey,

to rest on the ground

around my toes.

Silence.

An owl spoke,

and we both slipped

into the soft night.

DLGR – 2003