"Flat Pimento 1992"

The printing on the piece of paper towel brought back fond memories. My Dad, carefully recording in detail the events of his life, spoke out of the past.

The story : Dad loved his garden. He especially loved his peppers. Unlike his son and his grandsons, he tended to avoid spicy peppers. He liked his sweet and meaty. Sometime in the mid-1960's, he was given some small bell type peppers by one of his co-workers. Dad enjoyed them, and saved the seed, year by year selecting the sweetest and thickest-meated of his produce.

Every Spring he would begin his ritual. He soaked the pepper seeds for a day or so, then planted them in a shallow container under the florescent lights in the kitchen. Once the second leaves appeared, he would fix up the cover on his cold frame, and transplant the seedlings to await the last frost. (I'm not sure; this could be hereditary behavior. If so, my children-in-laws are in for some fun.) Typically, Dad would set out 50 or so of his sweet pimento plants in the garden.

As noted above, Dad selected for sweetness and thick walls. The peppers would mature at about 2-1/2"-3" in diameter, and were flattened, about 2" high. Even when green the peppers were great snacks, and as they ripened and turned red, their sweetness increased. We picked them and ate them like apples, right there in the garden.

After Dad retired, he and Mom started spending their winters in Phoenix. Sometime around 1997-98, he decided that it was time to stop worrying about being home in time to plant peppers in the Spring. He gave his seed to a family friend, with the requirement that she would start the seeds and give him a few plants for his garden after he returned from Phoenix. Life has no guarantees beyond dying; the friend did just that over the Winter and Dad never did get his pepper plants. Worse, he had given away all of his seed, as far as he knew. Every Spring for the next several years, he would recount the tale of the lost seed; he missed his peppers.

The other day I called Mom to see if she had any caraway seed. I was looking all over for some in the grocery stores. (Hey, why pay Big Money® for a packet of seed when you can get lots and to spare in a bottle of spice-grade condiment?). Yes, she had some, how much did I need, (a teaspoon full was plenty to start a caraway patch in the garden), and by the way -- she found a bottle with a note in it. "Flat Pimento 1992".

I went to see what she had. Wrapped in the paper towel were several hundred seeds that Dad had dried and stored 17 years ago. He had apparently forgotten they had been saved.

Taking the seeds home, I cut a paper towel in half and laid it in a dinner plate, scattered about a hundred seeds on it, folded it over, and added water. The seeds soaked for about 48 hours, swelling and developing the little pimples that would become rootlets. In the cloudyhouse I made a furrow where the first lettuce crop had been. (Oh. Forgot to tell about that. I transplanted a few dozen each of romaine and simpson and about sixty-five buttercrunch plants to the other side of the cloudyhouse, leaving a space for some more seed starts. Maybe we have salad soon?). Into the furrow went the soaked seed. Now for the wait.

Whazzat noise? Did I hear Mixie cheering?

Buttercrunch, Romaine, and Black-seeded Simpson.

From the far end : the Flat Pimento furrow, a row of Calabrese brocolli, 2 rows of onions, a row of Golden Acres cabbage, 2 rows of jalapeños, 2 rows of Rutgers tomatoes, 2 rows of spicy wax peppers, 2 rows of Roma tomatoes, 2 rows of spicy banana peppers, a row of chilis. Figure about 100 seedlings per row. I need more ground.