Garden Fuck-Up: What's the Dill?

Sorry, couldn”t help myself with that title. But seriously—what the hell is going on with my dill? Last year, I totally killed it. And I don”t mean “killed it” like hipsters mean it, as in, holy crap I just kicked ass and I”m amazing. I mean I literally. Totally. Killed it. After just two weeks.

This year I decided to plant it again, because of course I would do better. With one more year of gardening under my belt, my thumb one brighter shade of green, I planted my dill with full confidence that I would grow that sucker tall and strong. I”d have so much of the stuff I”d be mixing casino pa natet it in with carrots, pickling my cucumbers with it, and making “dill onion bread.” In just a few short weeks I might literally turn Greek from all the batches of yogurt I”d mix it with. By hipster definition, I”d kill it. But shortly after:

I killed it. Every other herb in my herb garden is flourishing, but this guy sent up brown, stiff, ugly little middle fingers sprouting from the dirt. What”s up with my dill? What am I doing wrong? Because I”m kind of salivating over that onion dill bread that I”ve yet to make, and the stubborn little garden gnome that lives inside my head won”t allow me to purchase dill from the grocery store. Any ideas?

Friday Fuck Up Redeemed: Tomato and Egg Success Story

On Friday I left you with my most recent Fuck Up (and a discussion on whether or not we should continue using the word fuck). I’m awfully glad I did, because we actually figured out why my open omelet, which I’ve successfully made before, turned to mushy, gross shit.

Last week I started the egg dish with the tomatoes warming on the pan, oozing out all sorts of acidic liquid. I added the eggs into that big, ol’ mess, and the eggs never set. I had no idea why. But from some reader advice here and on Facebook, I learned that I should add the tomato at the end.

Advice highlights:

Jenna: Did you de-seed your tomatoes? The omelet looks really watery, and the extra water from the tomatoes could cause the eggs to break like that. And then you’d be steaming the egg bits in their excess water, which would totally mess up the texture.

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Cilantro or Cilant-no?


Is cilantro the bacon of 2009?

That’s what our pal So Good was wondering last week, and he’s got good reason. The world’s most controversial herb has been burning up the blogosphere in 2009, most notably on Fuck Yeah, Cilantro, a new tumblelog with perhaps the most specific food porn focus we’ve ever seen: daily money shots of cilantro-covered foods, from pizza to hot dogs and even drinks. Fuck yeah, indeed!

But not all is well in cilantro-land. Over at I Hate Cilantro, anti-coriander activist Erin has been chronicling her hatred for what she calls “the pubes of Beelzebub itself,” even creating a cilantro-free restaurant guide.

I’ve always been intrigued by the passionate feelings this simple spice elicits. I don’t think there’s any other food quite like it. Half the people seem to think it’s the nectar of the gods; the other half think it tastes like soap. I’ve heard it said this is due to some kind of weird genetic split, but wiki says this has never been proven. Ah, cilantro. You are a mysterious one.

So let’s do a highly scientific survey. What do you think? And why?

[poll id=”34″]

(Photo: Chrismar)