Picture yourself, then, in your potager garden – beauty and utility quite literallydancing hand in hand. Before you, the plot blazes, yes, with vegetables, but colored, edible flowers. It is a feast to the eye, one for the palate—gee whiz, who knew petals packed this punch?
Now into this Eden of tastes laid out with flower petals come the brilliant gaiety of the nasturtiums—life at the garden party. Screaming oranges and reds that say “Look at me!” in such a way that it’s hard not to, toss them in salads, and voilà—your dish goes from zero to hero. And they’re easy to grow—like weeds—but so much more worthwhile.
Just slip them in about any opening in your yard and let them flower out.
And then, of course, there is the sweet violet: small, dainty, very versatile in its sweetness. Candy them, and voilà—extra out of some fairy story or other. Like the softest whisper of the garden, refinement bestowed with no insistence on having to be the centerpiece of attention. My gran would strew them over lemon cakes; the lavender and violets were like old friends mingling, making each mouthful some sort of little occasion.
Lend me your ears for the delightful borage blooms. They could be small, fallen stars from the sky, boasting a blue rivaling the clearest summer day. Refreshing as a morning breeze, its taste can only be described as that of cucumber. Drop these starlets into your lemonade, or float them on a gin cocktail—you won’t be disappointed. Invite borage into your garden and toast the heavens for their celestial flair.
And finally, marigolds—for the little sisters of sunflowers, reflecting all that sun and warmth within them. The eating of marigolds, they just burst with that citrus in a savory context. They are exclamation marks on a summer salad. If all this weren’t enough, they guard against aphids and others of that company. What flower pays for its board this way! And finally, scented geraniums—lemon to rose, mint to nutmeg—all riots of fragrance and flavor, fun to grow and fun to eat. Ever tried geranium jelly? Uh, add it to your list, syrup too, and as a fancypants topping on naughty desserts. The leaves alone are conversation pieces.
Ah, and then, of course, there are those squash blossoms—seductively tempting.
Indeed, little in this world can compare to that tender squash flavor lightly jacketed in delicate tempura. It is veritably summer on a plate, a bit like eating sunbeams, if one will. They are fragile things, though, and they have to be treated as such—with a little tenderness, something like a secret whispered across the wind. Whet your appetite for floral feasts?
But each of these has something special in store for its growth, so store that little sprout of a fact in mind: with a sunward-facing area with decent earth and a sprinkling of H2O, you will be soon up to your knees in blossoms. And yes, the seeds or source have to be organic; else, you might just be in for a nasty chemical surprise.
Flowers of Bounty in the Garden of Prosperity: Blossoms and Fruits Seen Together.
Now, with your eyes closed, allow yourself to visit a potager garden. Instantly, great swaths of vegetables stand tall next to blazing flowers in careless disarray. Edibles are mixed with flashy flowers so they can give their succor to the soul too. It is more than a garden—it’s a talking tapestry, right into the heart. A potager is about sitting right inside the riot of color, where every color tells its story. The orange of the jolly marigold seems to laugh as it polices the tomatoes from the predatory masses. Waterfall nasturtiums across raised beds add oomph to salads with their peppery leaves, carrying beauty high in the way of nature’s fireworks—just one huge blast of colors and utilities!
Not that the cabbias are supposed to stand at attention. Better to think of them, instead, as dance partners to the zinnia—great-leaved hoop skirts of old on some giant ballroom dance floor. Then, of course, there are flowers themselves: quicksilver dancers in effervescent bursts of color in electric pink and red. Together they’re a story told in chorus—a botanical hoedown, with no one having to go home. Of course, some raise an eyebrow at such victuals and beauties in company together. Perhaps even sneer, “Vegetables should not be stealing the show from flowers!” And I say to that, “Why not?” Do not vegetables and flowers grow together in as close harmony as do tea and cookies? Of course, the roses come next—the prima donna of any plot.
Place that sort of diva on one spot and share with sunflowers towering above them. The drama! The glamour! Even sunflowers—whose faces follow the sun with the most impassioned devotion—cannot help but overhear the aromatic whisper of a rose. Here’s a flowering duet—a melodious harmony where every player is playing his part in the symphony of the garden. Basil and cosmos would be the spice pairing now. Basil is one of those herbs that is fun but really sits rather low and humble.
Cosmos is just so chatty; it passes by with passersby, showing its arrays of pastel-colored dresses. Basil might get jealous with cosmos receiving all the attention, but promises of pesto do help shake off the green envy. Then, of course, come those improbable yet so welcome additions of herbs from nowhere into your potager—lavender, for instance, making its way onto your potager. It brings in the soft purple hue and this scent, so much like your grandmother’s warm hug.
Besides, it tells secrets to the passing butterflies. Maybe lavender is the peacemaker among this motley crew, hanging in a balance of perfect chaos. Unforgettable, of course, is the wild charm of calendula flowers—like golden treasures, as if even your garden received some sort of sudden royal knighthood. This cunning calendula first pleases the eye and then begins digging into the balms and teas, while still working wonders not only for its native land of dirt.
