With so many plants at the point of harvest, I feel a bit guilty talking about one plant. And, by one plant, I mean one plant. At the last minute this spring, I threw in a Finochio variety, which is the best type if you’re interested in harvesting the bulb. Out of the seeds I planted, only one was healthy enough to transplant.
That lone fennel plant has given me joy this summer. Standing alone in a bed that up to just three weeks ago seemed barren, it grew and blossomed. Since transplanting, I’ve clipped off some fronds, but I don’t have the heart to harvest the bulb.
The mound of dirt I piled around the bulb to keep the taste mild has long since eroded. The plant has become a center of wildness, like a gypsy with layered skirts that seem frenetic and uncontrolled. It makes the leeks next to it seem like the guards at Buckingham Palace who remain stoic no matter what that crazy fennel is doing. I’ll let this diorama continue for a bit more and risk a bulb that is a bit stronger tasting or that might split in this rain.
Fennel has an unfavorable reputation because many people dislike the taste of licorice. I’m not really fond of licorice either. Unlike my dad, who loved the black jelly beans my siblings and I were happy to give him, I find anethole, the chemical in anise, star anise, and fennel too intense for my taste.
Luckily, the taste of the fennel bulb is mild, with just a hint of that licorice flavor. Pairing in up in cooking with stronger flavors such as mushrooms helps create something wonderful both in taste and in texture. The fronds have a delicate flavor and I’ve used them in both fish and pasta dishes.
I also love the smell. It’s not as good as the way ground coffee permeates the air, but only by a bit. I enjoy brushing my hand through the fennel fronds, rubbing them a bit to capture the oils so that I can capture a glimpse of anethole on my fingertips.
In Italy and other areas, fennel is a perennial that can last up to five seasons. In Southeast, we grow it as an annual and it takes 80-90 days to mature to the bulb stage. It doesn’t like colder weather and can bolt before it fully matures.
However, fennel likes acidic soils so it tends to do well here. Normally, when the bulb is golf ball sized, soil should be piled around it so that it remains light colored and mild tasting. Not long after that, about two or three weeks later, it should be around racquet ball or tennis ball in size and ready to harvest.
If, like me, you don’t harvest the bulb, you can let it go to seed and use them to flavor Middle Eastern, Indian, and some South American cuisines. After the fall, you’ll want to compost that section of garden as fennel depletes nutrients. I still hope I can let my little Finnocio go and transform it into something delicious, but whatever happens, I know I’ll be planting more than one next year.
• Corinne Conlon is a freelance writer based out of Juneau. She can be reached at dirtgirlgardening@gmail.com.
