I never understood it. Why are okra called “ladyfingers?” Sure, okra loosely resemble long, witch-like pointers, but the point is at the bottom and there’s a stem at the top that looks nothing like a knuckle.
But then you see them growing on a plant…and you get it.
Because they grow in the direction I thought of as upside-down! The taper is at the top, and the knuckle isn’t as obtrusive. They’re actually kind of beautiful, these fingers. Not exactly hand models, but not witch-like either. Definitely more ladylike.
What I learned about growing okra:
- You have to harvest them young. Once they get past the length of fingers they get tough and woody and they’re good for nothing but soup stock.
- They’re really small plants. I thought they hung from trellises like zucchini or bitter melon. Nope, they grow up a bit like broccoli, but much smaller. And they don’t have protective leaves. Why do you care? Because that means they’re really easy to grow. They could probably be grown in window boxes. They’re a whole lot less time-consuming and leafy than tomatoes.
- Steamed okra is great. I love gumbo—sure. The slimy southern stew with some of my fresh lima beans and tomatoes is close to my heart (“slimy” is not a negative term), but I love the gelatinous texture of tender, young okra just as it is. I could douse it in spices and fry it Indian-style, but not yet. For now, I only have a handful at a time (since the plants aren’t like tomatoes with tons of flowers). So I’ll eat them sparingly.
I said there were other garden revelations to share.
1. Trellising in a garden is beautiful, but tying strings to small pegs for bean and pea vines to ascend isn’t so practical. Next year I’m adding a screen to my trellis—one that sticks firmly into the ground. Then my poor favas won’t fall right over.
2. When you grow basil you have to pick off the flowers, beautiful as they are, because they’re a sign to the plant that it’s time to die instead of putting more energy into growing leaves. But you don’t have to toss out those flowers. They’re pungent and more bitter than the leaves, so eating them straight-up is for the strong at heart. Infusing them into honey, however, is brilliant. My friend gave me that tip and my breakfasts of toast have never been so good. Basil blossoms dripping in honey are possibly the most indulgent breakfast I’ve ever had. You end up with tons more honey than you’d usually use because all how it sticks to all those basil flower contours.
You can also compost the basil flowers. But why? Just find some honey instead.
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