Little curds are shy. As Earth slumbered into a long winter, the ground was frost-laden and cold. Growing a cauliflower may be a hard one for the beginner. But not a worry in a garden where fairies guard every bud and bloom. As if they understood, the leafy jackets protect and barely show what’s inside. One blessed morning in the first week of June, a first peek reflected a shy orange ball peering at us, knobby and young. A little late to bloom, but here nevertheless. Will the tiny curds survive the raging temperatures of July and August? Only time will tell.
Cheddar was planted with her siblings, four in all, in the month of April. The only orange among the whites, a lovely “orange cauliflower” varietal resembling the knobby texture of a cheese curd. With bountiful harvests that grace your table in spring and fall, this varietal cozies up in its leafy greenness, basking in the sweetness of spring. No wonder she brings forth a rounder, sweeter body to your palate (in my case, an eclectic kurma), an elegance better than a cheese curd can.
All in all, soup or roast, cheddar is the element of surprise I wait for. I hope the weather does not get too hot, for she may bolt. Will she bloom in a summer’s wrath? A forest fire ebbs on the other side of the mountain, its searing heat threatening every bloom. The hot, hot sun puts a knot in my throat, for the tiny curd deserves a win.
A first-time sow in my garden, robust yet timid. Every time I walk by my garden, I talk to my plants. But in particular, this one. Now, my garden and I wait to see this seedling burst into a rounded globe of orange sunshine.