I toss a mass of succulent green leaves onto a cutting board, lift a sturdy chef’s knife, and chop those leaves into bite-sized pieces. Reaching up into the cupboard, I select my favorite weathered white platter. I gather the pile of chopped greens with my fingers and arrange them in a flat layer over the platter. I add shreds of sharp cheddar cheese, smoky bacon bits, and crunchy garlic croutons. Smiling, I pick up the platter and carry it to our dining table along with a bottle of Ranch and a jar of celery seed dressing. No matter what else graces our table, we will dine well tonight.
The crown of springtime garden fare, in my opinion, is none other than large luxurious heads of crisp, crunchy green homegrown lettuce. For many years, my direct-sown lettuce grew up in clumps of dozens of plants so tightly packed together that they would never reach a full, healthy maturity before it became necessary to harvest them. These baby greens were too young or weak to be crunchy, and wilted under the liberal pours of Ranch my family appreciated. I was somewhat surprised to discover that I could grow lettuce that looked like the seed catalog pictures, mature with thick, crisp, colorful leaves and blanched hearts.
Lettuce seeds are tiny light, flat things that easily lose themselves in garden soil. In early spring, I took pinches of seeds and sprinkled them in a half-inch trench in the garden, lightly covering them with soil. Then I waited and waited. Eventually some, all, or some here and some there would sprout and grow. Thinning was difficult, for I felt I was damaging the roots of the seedling I wished to save by uprooting his brothers beside him. Most years it never got done.
Over the years, I learned a trick or two that gave me a much tastier harvest. Winter sowing lettuce has been a game-changer in my lettuce-growing success. Around mid-February (with successive sowings every few weeks until the weather becomes too hot) I pull out a plastic jug I have saved, cut it open, fill it with potting soil, sprinkle in a pinch of lettuce seeds, top them with a handful of vermiculite, and give it all a good spray of water. I flip the jug shut, tape it closed, and label it. Then I set it in my south-facing flower bed just off the front porch. Within a shockingly short time, thanks to the greenhouse effect of the plastic jug, little lettuce sprouts spread their cotyledons out to the sun and send up their first true leaves.
I watch them eagerly, lining my eye up with the jug’s open top and reveling in every bit of green I see on a drab March day. When the little seedlings reach about an inch in height with a few true leaves, and the garden is worked and ready for early spring planting, the little seedlings can be transplanted into the garden. In the case of lettuce, younger is better when it comes to transplanting.
To easily transplant lettuce, I open the jug and give the potting mix a good watering to make sure the root ball is moist and the seedlings well hydrated. I carefully ease the whole block of potting soil, or at least a large chunk of it, out of the jug, and gently tease the little seedlings apart, doing as little damage to the tiny tender roots as possible. With my fingers or a garden trowel, depending on the softness of the garden soil I am planting into, I make small holes 6-8 inches (15-20 cm) apart and settle the little seedlings into them, carefully covering the roots and any attached potting mix with garden soil. (I have found that if potting mix is left exposed, it can wick moisture away from the roots, making it more difficult for seedlings to establish quickly.) I give those seedlings a good watering and make sure they stay well hydrated for the next week or so to help them settle in and get growing.
Once they are established, spring rains are generally all the watering lettuce needs. I often sprinkle a handful of fertilizer down the row when the plants are about four inches tall. Lettuce likes to grow fast, and compost or fertilizer gives them an extra boost.
Lettuce can be harvested at any stage of growth, but I like to wait until it becomes a mature head. Early in the morning, dew beading heavily on the grass, I slip out to the garden with a large dishpan and a paring knife. Using the knife, I cut off an entire head of lettuce and plop it into my bowl. I go down the row harvesting the largest heads, giving the others more space to keep growing. Large heads quickly fill my dishpan, and I carry it to the kitchen, admiring the beautiful shades of green and tinges of red.
Once in the kitchen, I break each leaf from its core and wash it under running water. Lettuce is attractive to bugs and slugs, and I do not want any of those critters making it to my plate. I give it a good spin in a salad spinner, stack the leaves together, and tuck them into a plastic bag. Twirling the bag shut, I secure it with a twist tie and store it in the refrigerator where it stays crisp and delicious for a week or more.
I feel incredibly rich, pulling this lettuce out of the refrigerator, assembling a salad, and serving it to my family who coat it with creamy Ranch or a light, sweet and sour celery seed dressing. We eat it together around the table, its bright, cheerful colors and fresh flavors complementing our pizzas and casseroles delightfully. Other days we layer it into a sandwich, use it as a base for taco salad, or add its flavor, crunch, and nutrition into rice bowls. Delicious, healthy, and beautiful, lettuce deserves a prominent place in the springtime garden.