I love my orange habs. Really I do. Hot, tasty, bountiful.
Thing is, I've got 8 of them planted. I also have three of the yellow short tabascos in the ground, which imo is two too many. The freaking things are gigantic and have wee lil tabasco pods everywhere.
No more. Next year, I do things right.
Next year, 4 habs max. I'll still get plenty of pods, but I want that space for other stuff.
I want fatallis.
I had two this year I bought. One died a horrible death, the other is struggling along but with bad pod drop. The one pod I caught right as it fell had about a third of an inch of ripe area, and it tasted really nice, I can see what the buzz is about. I want more.
This post is dedicated to you, Mr. Orange Habanero. You were my first hot pepper and I'll always have a spot in my garden for you, but the times they are a changing.
You helped me stretch my wings and start to fly, but now it's time to range further afield.
Don't think of this as me ending our relationship. That will never happen. I've grown, though, and you've taught me well, and now it's time for me to begin to embrace the power you've bestowed upon me.
We still have the rest of the growing season together, maestro. We are going to go out in style. Just as you've taught me how to be a better gardner, now you will teach me to be better in the kitchen. We will dance the dance of concentrate making and sing the songs of hope for the new year.
Next year, you will be there, ever faithful, watching over me in my garden as I grow different varieties. You will be there in my kitchen as I try to do justice to them in a simmering pot and a pressure canner. You will laugh at me while I eat new and tasty and hot stuff on camera for the lulz.
Walk with me, Orange Hab, head and pods held high, into the future.
Thing is, I've got 8 of them planted. I also have three of the yellow short tabascos in the ground, which imo is two too many. The freaking things are gigantic and have wee lil tabasco pods everywhere.
No more. Next year, I do things right.
Next year, 4 habs max. I'll still get plenty of pods, but I want that space for other stuff.
I want fatallis.
I had two this year I bought. One died a horrible death, the other is struggling along but with bad pod drop. The one pod I caught right as it fell had about a third of an inch of ripe area, and it tasted really nice, I can see what the buzz is about. I want more.
This post is dedicated to you, Mr. Orange Habanero. You were my first hot pepper and I'll always have a spot in my garden for you, but the times they are a changing.
You helped me stretch my wings and start to fly, but now it's time to range further afield.
Don't think of this as me ending our relationship. That will never happen. I've grown, though, and you've taught me well, and now it's time for me to begin to embrace the power you've bestowed upon me.
We still have the rest of the growing season together, maestro. We are going to go out in style. Just as you've taught me how to be a better gardner, now you will teach me to be better in the kitchen. We will dance the dance of concentrate making and sing the songs of hope for the new year.
Next year, you will be there, ever faithful, watching over me in my garden as I grow different varieties. You will be there in my kitchen as I try to do justice to them in a simmering pot and a pressure canner. You will laugh at me while I eat new and tasty and hot stuff on camera for the lulz.
Walk with me, Orange Hab, head and pods held high, into the future.
