WORKING for PEANUTS
Oh, peanuts. Not even a nut, they’re the lowly legume that gets omitted from the cans of fancy mixed nuts, although they contain more protein than the competition.
They came into my life merely as a novelty because I had a long, sunny patch of open ground along the driveway to fill, and because a horticulturalist I met sang their praises. She said they were a pretty, but unfussy, ground cover who wouldn’t pout being ignored in August. She said they had pretty little yellow flowers.
I have to be honest, the flowers did not wow me. They were maybe an inch across and not particularly profuse, like buttery little butterflies whose shape also seemed mildly erotic. Because, well, they are: After they self-pollinate, the flowers develop into pedicels, ovaries that elongate and burrow a few inches underground, where the fruits develop into shapely pods that can hold from one to three seeds, depending on the variety.
On the plus side, the plants could cover some ground fast. Reaching about 18 inches high, they would have crept all the way across the driveway if I had let them. Thankfully, they did not balk
Search for a driveway ground cover turned into a love affair with legumes
at a haircut with the pruning snips; they just kept up their march, all through summer’s intense heat, hurricane flooding and a freeze or two.
I kept waiting for their leaves to yellow; that signal they’re ready to harvest. Finally, after New Year’s, the plants withered. I wondered if I’d let them go too long.
As I coaxed each plant up from its base, the dirty side revealed woody tangles full of wrinkly, nubby wonders. The nuts rattled as I shook the plants free of mulch and soil — percussion for a gardener’s dance! A few had started to sprout, probably left in the ground a bit long after a rain. A few were empty or limp-looking inside. But plenty looked as good as a peanut can possibly look.
That is when I fell in love with them and called the professionals.
Bob Randall, the Urban Harvest godfather, told me a story about how in 1965, when he was a member of the Peace Corps, he taught math at a high school in northern Nigeria that was surrounded by peanut farms — wild baboons came down from the trees and feasted on the plants. I kept waiting for squirrels to discover our row, but maybe our big pecan tree has them spoiled.
Randall first saw peanuts growing in Houston the early 1990s, in a community garden at M.C. Williams Middle School in the Acres Homes area, which he says has some of the best, most loamy soil in metro Houston, “although that isn’t saying much.”
Houston’s earth is more typically a nonporous clay that can suffocate some plant roots, so most gardeners build raised beds with improved soil.
George and Mary Stewart, local community garden gurus back in the day, thought peanuts would be a good crop to grow because they’re easy and fun for kids to watch. A farmer named Joe Johnson showed up with his tractor at Acres Homes each spring and planted a couple of acres.
“I have no idea what he did with all those peanuts,” Randall said.
Peanuts are now outlawed at many school gardens because peanut allergies can be deadly. On a less serious note, they can pose a challenge for urban gardeners because they’re kind of space hogs.
Randall maintains about seven raised beds in his home garden on the southwest side of town, growing only a few Valencia or Virginia peanut plants each year. Too much other warmseason deliciousness fills his beds during the peanut planting season, which runs from mid-April to June, he said. In Randall’s mind, peanuts are no match for long beans, okra, peppers, corn, cantaloupes and sweet potatoes.
I would have that problem if I tried to squeeze peanuts into our veggie bins. But the driveway was open territory. That’s the area horticulturalist Brie Arthur coaxed me to think about last year with her book “The Foodscape Revolution.”
Like Rosalind Creasy (author of the more comprehensive classic “Edible Landscaping”) a generation before her, Arthur encourages gardeners to think outside the box. All kinds of edibles can play nice with any other sun-loving plants in flower beds — roses, lilies, grasses, you name it.
We had a lot of open, mulched area under a new planting of young trees. Left alone, it was just an invitation to weeds.
We had alternated ‘Midlothian BB’ Arizona cypress, ‘Slender Silhouette’ sweetgum and ‘Scarlet’s Peak’ holly trees — all slender and columnar shapes. When they eventually fill in to form a natural screen, the ground below them will be shady. But for now, it’s peanut land.
Not wanting to wait on a seed order, I bought a bag of raw (not roasted!) peanuts at the grocery store, shelled a dozen or so and plopped the nuts 6 inches apart along the stone border beneath the new trees. More than other veggies or flowers I might have chosen to plant there, peanuts promised to help the trees by adding nitrogen to the soil.
Constant Ngouala, production manager for the nonprofit Plant It Forward Farms, planted peanuts as a cover crop in natural soil for that very reason when he moved to the Houston area about four years ago. “It’s a good crop to prepare new farming land,” he said.
Ngouala grew up in the Congolese city of Brazzaville. His father was a banker, but his mother had friends who grew peanuts to help supply the country’s peanut oil export business. Now Constant has a list of regular customers who reserve the raw, or green, peanuts he sells at the Urban Harvest Farmer’s Market.
Peanuts are one of the world’s most nutritious edibles, a good source of protein and disease-fighting antioxidants. Ngouala has regular customers who appreciate green, or raw, peanuts as a natural source of the amino acid L-arginine, which can increase sexual stamina in men by relaxing blood vessels, according to some nutritional experts.
So, who knew, peanuts are also earth’s, umm, oysters? And does any other nut have such a colorful history?
The Portuguese first exported peanuts from their native Brazil to Europe and Africa in the 16th century. After slaves from West Africa brought them to North America in the 17th century, peanuts became an important crop across the South. (They also were a lifesaver to starving soldiers, who dug them up in abandoned fields during the Civil War.)
Randall says there are hundreds of varieties widely cultivated around the world.
Southern Exposure Seed Exchange (southernexposure.com), sells about seven types, including black ones and striped ones that may appeal to connoisseurs. Southern Exposure also sells the recently re-introduced Carolina African Runner Peanut, the mother of all peanuts grown in the U.S., which is said to taste slightly sweeter than Virginia varieties.
Ngouala has found all four types— runner, Valencia, Virginia and Spanish — easy to grow in Houston. He harvested 167 pounds his first year, with runner peanuts; and 203 pounds the next, including a Spanish variety that had smaller but more prolific pods. Most home gardeners, of course, will not want or need that many.
Which brings me to the Tubtrug sitting in my backyard. I haven’t weighed my harvest, but I’m guessing it’s more than 5 pounds. They are supposed to dry for a few days before being roasted. Some Southerners prefer them boiled.
I know this cleaning and roasting job is going to take some commitment, so I’ve popped a few in the oven for about 20 minutes at 350 degrees. They are deliciously rich.
So, call me a goober now — I’m in it for the long haul and already wondering where I can squeeze in a few peanuts when the trees mature.