Lelo in Nopo

The harvest is in full swing, and that means squash

2009-07-14T05:30:00.000-07:00

Squash, squash, squash, squash, zucchini. Zucchini, squash, patty pan, squash. Oooommmm.

The mantra of high summer means squash here at Casa de LeLo y AdRi. This spring we planted not one, not two, but five summer squash plants in the garden. One green zucchini, two patty pan, and two yellow crook neck squash. For a household of two, that is a lot. SRSLY. So we're staying on top of the harvest, and this week have kicked it into high gear.

My favorite way of eating summer squash? Slice thickly (1/2 inch), lightly brush with olive oil, season with salt and pepper, and throw on the grill. Don't hold back about grilling extra, because you'll put it to use the next day. I like it grilled on high, leaving char marks. Last night, we threw them all on a cutting board right at the patio table, chopped them into big bite size chunks, and transferred half to a bowl with freshly made pesto. Toss to mix and serve.

Excellent. And you'll note this post kicks off the first in the labeling of Summer of Squash. I anticipate there will be quite a few more. Next up? How to use that leftover grilled squash for breakfast.

A gift for jam makers

2009-07-12T15:00:00.000-07:00

I couldn't help it. I've been singing it all this week as the Oregon berry season kicks into high gear and delectable berries are ripening. And being picked. Two flats of berries made their way to our house thanks to the nimble fingers of AdRi and her picking prowess.

But I digress. This is for you, my fellow jam makers. Do the cabbage patch with me while you sing Jam on it and you make jam this summer. Here, I'll even give you the song:

And now you can even have a t-shirt with it too. Or perhaps a baby shirt or tote bag. You can have those too.
Or perhaps you love heirloom tomatoes as much as I do?

Here's the shirt for you:
Or you just want to proclaim your ability to can. As in preserve food.
Yes, you can can. And you can proudly wear it for the world to see.
Happy canning my fellow food preservers. Happy canning.

These designs are now available at my Cafe Press shop. Happy shopping. 'Tis the season to can.

Wink needs to take lessons because this pug is breaking my heart with sweetness

2009-07-09T06:00:00.000-07:00

Are you ready to shop?

2009-07-08T06:00:00.000-07:00

Feel like shopping? from LeloNopo on Vimeo.

Breathe it in

2009-07-06T15:40:00.000-07:00

Since turning my life upside down 2 and a half years ago when I quit my fancy agency job and ventured out on my own, I've just put one foot in front of the other. Step by step.

I made my own work and went into business for myself. And then I learned how to cook from scratch. And how to can. How to sew. How to enjoy the little things in daily life and to be open to seeing them. I learned what it was like to be able to go and get pedicures in the suburbs in the middle of the day. How to walk my dog in my neighborhood every day at 2pm. I've learned how to garden for real, and to write about gardening (ssshhhh: I have a piece coming out in a national gardening publication this fall). I'm becoming a master gardener.

And through it all, I've kept working. While I don't blog about it here, I'm a professional communications consultant and graphic designer. And I just have to say, I have the best clients ever. And they keep coming back to me. And they refer me to their colleagues. And word gets out. Today my little agency has a client list that includes a major national health institution, a city, a county, a state, a national foundation and a national non-profit. And now? A waiting list. I'm at capacity. Or what feels like capacity in order to deliver excellence.

I can't complain about the workload: I'm incredibly grateful and excited about every single bit of work I'm doing. It's the best work of my career so far, the most meaningful, and the most challenging. But I'm telling you this, my dear blog readers, so that you know why there's not a lot of original content going up on this blog right now other than little daily life stuff, and my continued exploration in photography, the bounty of Oregon, and gardening. We'll see how much time I have to preserve this summer, or to cook. Well, I cook, but how many blogposts would you want to read about making salads or heating up beans?

I had a few quiet hours yesterday to myself. It took everything in me to not work. And then I put together a plan for pickling cherries. Then I looked at the work that would take. My mind wandered for a moment and I thought about the book I never finished while on vacation in Mexico last March. I hadn't even picked it up since the trip. I set up the fan, and kicked back on the couch, and with the summer breezes blowing through, carrying with it the jasmine blooms' scent, I finished the book. I didn't work, I didn't can, I didn't do laundry, I didn't answer e-mails. And you know what? It was wonderful. And just what I needed.

So while in previous summers I've had summer lists, I think I'll forego the summer list this season and just go for what feels right. It's concerts in the park, nights watching movies projected in the garden, BBQing with neighbors, and a few baseball games. Because it's going to be a busy summer with work, and I'm just breathing in deeply, taking it all in, and saying "thank you" to the universe. Sage advice, I'd say. Breathe it in.

Gnomes: got issues?

2009-07-03T11:28:00.000-07:00

When I mention garden gnomes, AdRi rolls her eyes. In fact, this morning I shared with her my latest column over at Just Out, In Defense of Gnomes. While she rolled her eyes and said "You are becoming that crazy gnome lady with tacky garden art" I had to explain to her the title of the piece, In Defense of Gnomes, is a play on the Defense of Marriage Act. Gay innuendo + garden writing is my forté. Own it. Love it. Live it.

So I asked friends on Facebook and Twitter, what they thought of gnomes. Love them? Hate them? Here's a sampling of responses:

Love Love Love. Magic Happens

Gnomes are right up there next to clowns: Scary!

Gnever have I thought so deeply. It's gnot that they are evil per se, it's just that when you turn your back, you gknow they're up to gno good.

Better than Santa, because you don't have to work so hard to impress them.

See? It's definitely a mixed bag.

We have 2.5 gnomes. Or I should say we did. Now we have 4.5 gnomes. The gnomes are multiplying, but not just on their own. Oh no. Evidently, we are becoming a gnome sanctuary. A gnome haven. A gnome retreat. Because an anonymous package was left in our mailbox this week:

Intriguing, isn't it? No stamp, so it was left in person by someone who wished to remain anonymous. Inside?

Ah ha! I took the envelope outside and look who skipped right on out and found a place in the garden?

And hanging from the garden gate...

Ah yes. The haven for gnomes. AdRi is worried. I can't help but laugh. It's all good. The others? I checked in with Seymour of the Woods, and we was too busy bowling to comment.

Stormin' Norman was too busy guarding his unusual plant in the Gnome Grotto to have much to say about the new gnomes.

Oh don't get too lovey dubbey with Norman. He may look nice, but at night? He gets his freak on.

And one bonus photo. This was shared with me by @RichardMiller on Twitter. It's certainly proof that Portlanders may love their gnomes. And thank god, they're environmentalists. Proof? Gnomes tending their green roof:

They also love playing on my garden gate. See? The abandoned gnomes now have a home. So whoever left them in our mailbox, thank you.

No grubby hands in the cherries!

2009-07-02T06:00:00.000-07:00

It's getting to be cherry time. I've never done much with cherries. Eh. You have to pit them. And stuff. But fresh cherries are delish. And guess who was given a cherry pitter for Christmas? Oh yeah baby. I'm thinking of some cherry sauce of some sort. I'll get back to you on what I shake down on the topic. In the meantime, no grubby hands in the cherries!

In case you think we take gardening too seriously

2009-07-01T05:30:00.000-07:00

Summer jewelry from LeloNopo on Vimeo.

The perfect local, market fresh cocktail

2009-06-30T05:30:00.000-07:00

This winter we invested in a VitaMix. It's been great for morning time smoothies, afternoon pick me ups, and even for soup making. It's a crazy fun machine. And has made increasing veggie and fruit intake easier. But now that it's summer? It's perfect for berry smoothies, and I have to admit, summertime cocktails.

Stop scoffing. I know.

But whip up a bunch of ice and fresh berries, throw in some fresh herbs, like mint or thyme or basil and you have the perfect puree to combine with alcohol of your choice. It's the ultimate local fresh farmer's market cocktail. Dare I say it blurs the line of cocktail and health food drink? No, I didn't say it, but perhaps I thought it.

The photo above is a strawberry and mint puree with vodka and ice. Super refreshing and frothy, it's perfect on a hot day, to sip and linger awhile with. Next time I just may try it with basil.

Happy, happy summer.

Mmmm Pie: Portland Pie Off is ON

2009-06-29T11:00:00.000-07:00

You may remember the pie event from last summer. In case you don't, here are some choice photos:

Premise? Make pie, bring to the park. Share pie, chat with friends, eat pie. Ribbons, applause, fun. Good times. In the end? We had 50+ pies and 100+ people. Of course we're doing it again.

Make sure you're following the Pie Off blog, where I'm a contributor and fellow Pie Commissioner. Mark your calendar and plan to come. It's fun. It's quintessential. It's summer. It's pie. And this year? It's the Summer of Pie.

The best things about summer are simple

2009-06-28T08:00:00.000-07:00

A simple summer evening walk from LeloNopo on Vimeo.

Keeping up: the season is marching along

2009-06-27T05:30:00.000-07:00

Strawberry season is coming to a close and the next phase of berries are marching along in. We made strawberry freezer jam, froze whole berries, and pureed them into ice cube trays for easy freezer bag storage for use throughout the winter.

I love the taste of strawberries. I don't think any other berry is quite the same. The first berry of the season, the strawberry, is just winding down here in Oregon for its main flush of production. Next up? Raspberries.

Visiting the garden of my dreams: you should come too

2009-06-25T17:41:00.000-07:00

The best way to get ideas for your garden is to visit others. There. I’ve said it. Because it’s true. Whether it be an open garden or a garden tour, I can’t get enough of visiting other people’s gardens. Plant combinations, garden art, structures, or to just experience someone else’s aesthetic hand at play in nature is inspiring. Where do you think I came up with marbles in our gravel walks? Thanks to seeing it someone else’s garden!

So this is where we cue the soundtrack. Because I’m going to tell you about a garden I can’t wait to see. And seriously, it has had a song written about it. That beautiful song by Pink Martini about The Gardens of Sampson and Beasley? Yes, this is that garden.

Bella Madrona is one of the gardens on this weekend’s Seeding Our Future garden tour in Sherwood, Tigard and Tualatin. I’ve heard of this magical garden for years, and have never actually been in it. Photos in Fine Gardening? Oh yes, I’ve seen them. Plant combinations designed in dreams? Oh yes, I believe they’re there. And I can’t wait to spend the afternoon volunteering as a Master Gardener. To be inspired, to draw ideas from, to revel in the creativity of gardeners who seek beauty and solace and peace in natural form. Here are some photos of Bella Madrona from my friend Lisa...

You should come do the tour. Because it is sounding to be absolutely breath taking. And what a great way to spend an afternoon: visiting beautiful gardens and getting ideas or inspiration. There are six private gardens on the tour, all with different styles and focus. Tickets are $20 each, and you can read more about each of the gardens, and how to get tickets, on the Seeding Our Future website.

If you see a woman with a silly grin on her face roaming the grounds of Bella Madrona, please say hi.

P.S. Don’t forget the garden art show at Tigard High School!

Las caseras verdaderas de NoPo*

2009-06-22T21:46:00.000-07:00

These queens are demanding. The chairs must be at the perfect angle, the pillows must be fluffed, and the umbrella above better block that sun. Or else. No table flipping here, thank god.

*Translation: The real housewives of North Portland

Allium allium allium = yum

2009-06-19T05:00:00.000-07:00

My latest column is on the streets, but here's a cross post for you as well. Bonus photos and even a soundtrack at the bottom of the post.
...
I knew there was a reason I ordered that box of different kinds of alliums from Brent and Becky’s Bulbs last fall. The poor box sat there and sat there, until the day before the first wave of Snowpocalypse 2008 hit Portland. My partner had had enough waiting for me to plant that box o’ bulbs and there she was, in the cold rain, planting tulips and alliums for me all over the garden. Thankfully, she remembered to plant them in uneven numbers. I may be a lazy gardener, but that doesn’t keep me from being aesthetically particular.

Her work has paid off. This spring, our tulips were delectable. Swaths of black parrot tulips lurked in the shadows, painted tulips danced through the garden. But following steadily on the tulips’ heels came the real stars of this spring’s garden: the alliums.

Allium is a huge family and one you’re familiar with even if you’re not a gardener: Onion and garlic are both from the allium family, along with leeks, chives and shallots. I can’t imagine cooking without alliums; in fact, they’re often referred to as the jewels among vegetables.

But it’s the ornamental factor of alliums that has cast me under their spell. If Dr. Seuss created a flower, this would be it – a purple orb atop a long, tall green stick. In the landscape, they serve as punctuation marks in a sea of new spring green foliage. Long-lasting, they hang out in the garden later than other delicate spring blooms. I imagine them perfect to create a pattern or rhythm in a modern garden seeking structure, and they’re quite at home in a romantic cottage garden as well.

But honestly? I like them because they’re just weird. They’re like that wacky aunt everyone loves but you don’t entirely know what planet she’s on. (Wait. I think that’s me.) The different varieties range from tight balls to exploding balls to huge balls to small balls. You see a theme here? Alliums are all about the balls.

Allium giganteum is always a top pick: The size of a softball and home to small purple florets, it reaches 4 feet tall in a good year. Pair it with a backdrop of a dark-leaved smokebush for a dramatic display.

A looser and starry-eyed version is christophii. This is the allium with star-shaped florets. I’ve been known to gaze at mine for lengthy periods of time, trying to better understand how such is architecturally possible. It gets about 2 feet tall, lasts for a good month at least, and is perfectly paired with hostas. Bonus? These allium multiply. I once had three; now we have at least five. Score!

But the real freak show of the alliums are growing in my garden this year; Allium shubertii is truly blowing me away. It looks like a spaceship, with different lengths of stalks in its flower poking out a foot or so in width. Pinkish purple, it’s airy – but it seriously is the size of a volleyball. That’s right – a pink spaceship volleyball on a stick in my garden. It only gets 1-2 feet tall, but I am so proud of it, my heart swells.

Even when the alliums are done blooming, you can still have fun with them. Let their stalks dry up in the garden and don’t cut their blooms off. Carefully spray paint them with a surreal color of your choice – florescent orange is a good one – and trip out visitors who need to know about this rare and unusual plant. I’ve done it. It’s fun. Alliums never let you take your garden too seriously, and we can all do well with that.

Top 10 Reasons Why I Love Strawberry Freezer Jam

2009-06-17T05:00:00.000-07:00

10. It's easy. No actual canning involved: helloooo freezer.
9. It's not cooked. And because it's not cooked, it has the freshest fruit taste ever.
8. It's beautiful. Seriously. Look at that color.
7. It's tasty: it does the berry justice.
6. It's the kick-off to the preserving season.
5. It's the most-liked by friends.
4. We can pick in the morning and jam in the afternoon.
3. Leftover strawberries means strawberry cobbler.
2. Strawberry freezer jam is the perfect jam for a winter-time sandwich cookie or thumbprint cookie.
1. Because I love strawberries.

A few things....
We picked both Hood and Shuksan strawberries. You can see them side by side here:

We use the Shuksan for freezer jam, and the Hood for fresh eating, baking and freezing whole.

Containers for freezer jam are easily found at most local large markets and can be used and re-used. I like these because they stack easily.

Be ready before you pick; strawberries can rapidly ripen and spoil in warm weather once picked, and you want to be preserving them when they're at their best. Plan your containers, pectin and sugar needs ahead of time. We follow the directions for making the freezer jam as found in the pectin box: we use the Sure Gel lower sugar pectin, found in the pink box.

I've been thinking I'm going to try my hand at some different flavor combinations (herb + fruit infusions) this year, but when it comes to strawberry freezer jam, I'm keeping it straight forward and simple. There's nothing better than capturing the flavor of Oregon strawberries at their best in the season. They hold the promise of summer to come.

I interrupt this blog: Rhubarb Orange Flower Cocktail

2009-06-16T06:00:00.000-07:00

It appears to be that time of year again wherein I hunt the summer cocktail. This here? Above? Rhubarb Orange Flower. Tangy, refreshing with a hint of floral goodness (and for me, a scent of my childhood, citrus blooms) and the bonus is that it's easy.

Step one: make the rhubarb syrup. I followed this recipe. Keep in mind you have to squish and squeeze the liquid out of the rhubarb. Be prepared. And for gods sakes, wash your hands.

Step two: add a teaspoon or two of the orange flower water to the syrup. I was recently gifted with some and didn't know what the heck I'd do with it. Within one week, I was putting it in a cocktail. That's just the way I roll.

Step three: Fill glass with ice.

Step four: add one shot of vodka, one shot of rhubarb orange flower syrup, and top with mineral water.

Step five and six: mix and enjoy.

It's pink!

I'm going to let you imagine what the soundtrack for this post actually sounds like

2009-06-15T06:00:00.000-07:00

It's that time again...

2009-06-14T09:30:00.000-07:00

Oh Oregon strawberries. You taunt, you tease, you are now ripe. If you're not familiar with my love of Oregon's strawberries, I suggest you visit these posts.

And guess who's picked up a certain photo as part of their collection for sale? The lure of Oregon's strawberries run deep.

More posts to come this week because it is time.

Happy Pride to you and you and you

2009-06-13T07:38:00.000-07:00

About a decade ago, I went to my first gay pride parade. I was just coming out and figuring out what it meant to be queer. I read a lot of great books during that time, and my wonderful girlfriend, who had always been in touch with who she was, encouraged me to learn more about the gay community, issues, and the subculture surrounding queers.

So I went to my first Pride parade with my friend G. G was a little older, and whole lot more "out" than I was. He had worked professionally in the gay cause, and was an awesome gay role model for me. He and I talked about my coming out, about the early dramas of my now 10-year relationship, and his amazing stories of being gay and coming out in the decade prior, and what it meant to him as a proud, gay man.

G and I had a prime spot for the parade on SW Broadway. He wore his “I Marched on DC” 1980's-something t-shirt, taken out of the drawer and worn with pride that day. He was so excited. I didn’t know what to expect. I thought there’d be a few hundred fellow queers, a couple of floats, and some drag queens. My only other memory of Pride was from when I was 12, and on a family vacation in San Francisco. We discovered our vacation in the motherload of gay cities coincided with Pride weekend. (There were a few uncomfortable moments.)

What I discovered on the day of my first Pride parade, attending as a newly-found queer, was something that has and will always stay with me. Thousands of others—male, female, androgynous, old, young, families (!)—I had never seen such a cross-section together, in one place, at one time. Couples holding hands. In public! And pure, unadulterated celebration. In the light of day. Celebration for who we are. I was in awe.

G clapped and hooted and hollered for every contingent walking in the parade. Political representatives marched or rode in cars, and he ran out there, shook their hands, and thanked them for supporting us. All with excitement, happiness and pride. We danced along with the dancers on the Boxxes float. We saw people we knew marching, and cheered for them.

I saw fierce, amazing women, riding without shirts, on fast, loud motorcycles. I was in awe. I was embarrassed. I was excited. I was surrounded by people who were either just like me, or who embraced people like me. I was in a place that I felt safe. And I realized that was a very rare thing in my life. I was safe.

G and I applauded for every single marching contingent. But when PFLAG approached, G got misty. There were mothers, and fathers, and brothers and sisters, all marching in support of their gay family members. “I Love My Gay Son” was a sign carried by a mother walking hand in hand with her son. I was speechless.

And they came, one chapter after another, from Roseburg, Medford, Eugene, Portland: all vocalizing, and marching in support of those they loved. G told me how important this was, and how incredible these people were. I knew. My biggest fear at the time was coming out to my family, and not knowing if they would support me. We clapped as hard as we could, and thanked them for marching—mouthing THANK YOU when it was too loud to hear our voices. And we cried, for the families that loved their children so much to march in Pride, publicly declaring their love.
…..
Tomorrow is another Portland Pride parade. It’s been 10 years or so since I went to my first. A lot of queers don’t “get” Pride, and I understand. I used to not get it either. But G taught me it’s about our history, about connecting with our family, and celebrating who we are. For so many of us we hide parts—or all—of our authentic selves, being queer in a straight society. Pride, historically, has been about letting that go and being true to ourselves. And seeing the thousands of others around us who are doing the same. We're not alone.

Tomorrow I’ll be true to myself, to the love of my life who will be by my side, and to the memory of G. Sometimes I think if he had been able to connect with the love he felt on Pride, he could have loved himself to keep living. But he’s gone.

And tomorrow I’ll clap for those marching, I’ll thank the politicos for making a statement by being there, and I’ll dance to the disco floats and their dancers. But when PFLAG appears, I’ll cry for G, and clap as loud as I can. And thank them.
....
This was first posted here on my blog June 2005. I either repost or link to it every year.

The Wall of Scent

2009-06-09T05:45:00.000-07:00

It’s no secret I like fragrance in the garden. Actually, I like fragrance in my house too. And on my body. But fragrance in the garden is a decadent element I design space for.

So it’s no wonder that The Wall of Scent is in great bloom at this very moment.

It wasn’t named The Wall of Scent until right now. But the sensory experience is obvious. Old fashioned roses, one smelling like sweet rose water, another like spicy pure rose, and one Chinese jasmine absolutely blooming its head off.

I stood here the other day at The Wall. I forced myself to just stop. Stop the tasks, the to-dos, the client calls: stop.

Close my eyes.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Deep inhale.

This jasmine has come into its own this year. You know the saying first year they sleep, second year they creep and third year they leap? This must be the jasmine’s third year. It has leapt and scrambled all along the fence, covering the hardware for the rainchain, and now it’s in full bloom.

Inhale.
Exhale.
Deep inhale.

How do you describe, in words, this scent? It’s the purest of jasmine, the undertone of 75% of all women’s perfumes, I would assume. But it’s not at the high note of the scale. It maintains a musky deep accent, a serious fragrance that nicely balances the sweet rose bloom notes bouncing through the same air. Together they blend into a wonderful late spring experience. They draw me in and welcome me to sit and take them in some more.

Inhale.
Exhale.
Deep inhale.

And I’m not the only one who visits The Wall of Scent. Look who’s visiting today…

A closer look...

There’s The Wailing Wall, and then there’s my wall. And it smells delicious.

Bonus:
Last week, the Portland area experienced a strange storm. Wind whipped through the garden, the sky turned a dark green grey, and I sat in the backyard taking it all in. Until the thunder began.

What does summer taste like?

2009-06-04T05:30:00.000-07:00

There are many tastes of summer....like strawberry popsicles, mint chewed fresh from the garden, a tart hibiscus tea. I'll stop there because my mouth is starting to water.

But here's what my summer is tasting like...

A simple cheese plate, piled with fresh fromage blanc, drizzled with acacia honey, covered in lemon zest, and dappled with tropicana thyme fresh from the garden. Tropicana thyme? Essence of citrus and pineapple is embedded in this thyme, and now I know why I grow it. This platter was put out at a party, I turned my back, and it was gone.

I hope summer sticks around longer than that plate did...

My garden has a soundtrack

2009-06-02T18:00:00.000-07:00

Areas of my garden have a soundtrack in my mind. Flowers, too. This one in particular though? It plays often when I check in on its status out in the garden.

I had ordered a box full of bulbs last Fall, and AdRi got them into the ground for me at the very last minute before Winter hit.

This little freakshow? It's been tempting me for weeks now. Marvelous twirling leaves, followed by a vertical stalk that just kept growing taller and taller. Until it unfurled and twirled the freakshow that it is. And because I know you're wondering, it is a Nectaroscordum - siculum ssp. Bulgaricum.

I think we have a new series on the blog. Welcome to Soundtracks from the Garden. Feel free to join in and start your own! What songs play to you in your garden? Any freakshows going on?

What does summer look like?

2009-06-02T15:19:00.000-07:00

This is what summer looks like. Sunshine and popsicles. Laughter and sunglasses. Good times and silliness. Swimsuits and smiles. The bench in our front garden gets a lot of use this time of year. I love seeing these two on it. Sweet summer is here!

Ssssshhhhh. The secrets of growing tomatoes.

2009-05-29T11:06:00.000-07:00

Hush now. I recently spoke with a tomato whisperer and learned all the ins and outs for growing tomatoes here in the Northwest. And lucky you, I wrote about it in my column this week. You can read it here, or it's below for your tomato whispering convenience as well.

Are Tomatoes Calling Your Name?
Tips from a Tomato Whisperer

Oh sweet, red orb, the tomato, native to the warmer regions of South America and Mexico. Still, we Northwesterners, with our cool, wet seasons, desire to grow you in our gardens. Why do we mob the nurseries every spring to get our hands on you? Why do we invest in “Walls of Water” and obsess about red mulch, purported to grow tomatoes more successfully and with better flavor?

Don’t believe me about this craziness? Try attending a late summer tomato tasting at a local nursery and making your way through the elbow-to-elbow crowd. It’s the truth: We love our tomatoes!

There are sound reasons to grow tomatoes. The difference between a mealy, flavorless supermarket tomato and a vine-ripened backyard tomato is like night and day. Summertime meals of sliced heirloom tomatoes in all different colors, basil and fresh mozzarella cheese are a staple in our household. Thanks to farmers markets, many of us are discovering the glories of these flavorful heirloom tomatoes for the very first time, and heck, figure we can grow them ourselves. Heck! We sure can. But it’s best to know some things first…

It’s hard to pass up the heirloom tomatoes, with names like “Bloody Butcher,” “Mr. Stripey” (growing in my garden this year), “Jellybean,” “Big Zac” and “Mortgage Lifter.” They vary in color, size, striping, meatiness, texture and more. But instead of going for the catchy names, you want tomatoes that are going to produce good fruit.

The Portland area’s mellow summer weather is dreamy, but it means we have a brief window for growing tomatoes. When you’re choosing plants, stick to the short growing season variety.

“Russian heirloom varieties tend to do well in Oregon because their season is relatively short and cool like ours,” says expert tomato grower Linda Shively of Farmington Gardens (21815 SW Farmington Road, Beaverton, farmingtongardens.com). She recommends “Stupice,” an early-producing tomato with a salad-sized fruit and great flavor.

Shively says top sellers at Farmington Gardens are “Early Girl,” “Sungold” and “Sweet Million,” and they should know: Throughout the season they’ll carry over 100 different varieties of tomatoes for sale. Shively suggests planting a selection of tomatoes, paced to provide fruit throughout the season. “Get an ‘Early Girl’, but then get a ‘Brandywine’ and a ‘Cherokeee Purple.’ This will balance out the harvest over the season,” says Shively.

Plant your tomatoes in the hottest spot in your garden. They need full sun and if that’s in your front yard, looks like they’re going there. Now is the time to plant your tomatoes! If you planted them a month ago they’re most likely the same size now as then. When planting, you’ll want to pinch off the lower branches and dig a deep hole, throw in a handful of lime and some organic compost.

“The tomato will send out roots along the stemline and have a bigger rootball, thus a more vigorous plant,” Shively says. “Feed the soil with great compost and you’re good.”

But what the tomato whisperer told me about clipping back tomatoes was all news to me. “Once I have green fruit on mine, I’ll snip away foliage shading the fruit,” Shively says. “Tomato plants put on way more foliage than they need for producing fruit: Cutting some out will help move things along.”

Steady water will help them along, but come August, cut back on the watering and the plants will focus on producing and ripening fruit. I foresee scrumptious summer salads of heirloom tomatoes, basil and mozzarella in my future. Plant your tomatoes now, and you will too.