Heirlooms

Today was herb-starting day. I started more Siam Queen basil, as well as marjoram, cilantro, cutting celery, lemon balm, and Mexican oregano.

When I have a specific variety, I usual mark it on the label, e.g., Calypso Cilantro. Mexican oregano, however, is not a variety of oregano. It's actually a completely different species. Just as chile peppers are completely unrelated to black pepper, Mexican oregano was named for its physical resemblance to oregano. It has a slightly different flavor, though: more pungent, less sweet, stronger. It's an annual, not a perennial that will take over your herb garden if you let it. And it's essential to any authentic Mexican cuisine.

It's not well known outside of the southwestern U.S. and Mexico. You can buy it at specialty herb stores like Penzey's and that little herb shop next to Christina's Ice Cream in Inman Square. But you can't buy the seed anywhere. I looked and looked. Even Seeds of Change out of Santa Fe doesn't carry it. So I asked for Mexican oregano seed as a Christmas present, and two Christmases ago, my grandmother presented me with a tiny jelly jar full of seed collected from the previous year's harvest.

This variety may well have been in my family for generations, passed down from father to sons. My great grandfather might have brought it with him from his tiny hometown of Jarales, NM when he bought 88 acres near the Rio Grande in Albuquerque, and my grandfather continued growing it on the small 5-acre patch of that farm that he inherited when his father died. My grandfather would probably know where that seed came from, but he died nearly four years ago. It's possible my grandmother knows; she took over tending the herbs for my grandfather the last year or two of his life. I'll have to ask her.

So I have no idea what variety of Mexican oregano this seed is. I've decided to call it Maximo, after my grandfather and his father before him. It has a good ring to it. And if this isn't an heirloom variety, I don't know what is. Of all the gifts my grandmother has ever given me, this is by far my favorite. Of all my possessions, this is what I most want to pass on to my children, and their children.

In the back room of the greenhouse, I prepared a flat, pressing tiny rows into the soil with a piece of cardboard I've cut for this express purpose. I opened the jelly jar, and the aroma of Mexican oregano filled the room, because of course my grandmother didn't bother separating the seed from the pods. She just scatters it on the ground and waters it, and it grows. I rubbed the pods between my palms to loosen the seeds inside, and my mouth watered, remembering red chile sauce and papitas con carne al caldo and countless other dishes that depend on this herb for their distinctive flavor. Carefully, I distributed the tiny seeds down their tracks, then covered them gently with soil and misted the flat with water.

Tomorrow, I'll start the flowers: marigolds, nasturtiums, poppies, pansies, columbine from seed I collected myself from my teensy yard in Cambridge, and zinnias, a special request from a customer. And I'll prep lots and lots of newspaper pots for the weekend, when I'll start the tomatoes.