Planting seeds of an heirloom

The pictures made Joel Girardin do it.

When the Cannon Falls gardener cracked open a book about heirloom tomatoes and saw the portraits of 100 old-fashioned varieties -- bulky beefsteaks with sunshine gold skin, marble-size bright red cherries -- he couldn't help himself. He knew he had to plant them.

And with that, Girardin became one of a growing number of gardeners choosing to plant age-old varieties of vegetables, herbs and flowers instead of the newer hybrids that are widely available.

Some green thumbs get charged up by the challenge of growing produce or flowers their neighbors have never seen. Some see planting heirlooms as a way of doing their part to ensure biodiversity. Others plant a special heirloom variety to connect to their family or ethnic heritage.

But for most people, it's the taste that trumps all. Favored by chefs for their intense flavors, striking colors and unusual forms, heirlooms have a short shelf life that makes them among the freshest ingredients in any restaurant or home refrigerator.

While interest in heirloom vegetables and flowers is booming, their popularity is the only thing about them that's new. As their name suggests, heirlooms have been grown for decades or centuries. In fact, some seeds have been handed down from generation to generation, like a piece of finely crafted furniture or family Bible.

Europeans brought cherished seeds with them when they immigrated to the United States in the 1800s and early 1900s. Fearful of having them confiscated when they arrived, they sometimes sewed them into dress hems or hatbands.

The names of many varieties still grown today hint at their heritage and history. The fiery-looking, sweet-tasting pepper, 'Jimmy Nardello's,' was brought to the United States from southern Italy by the mother of its namesake in 1887. Huge 'Amana Orange' tomatoes were grown by Germans who established the Amana Colonies in Iowa. And a well-known purple tomato variety called 'Cherokee' is believed to have been originally cultivated by American Indians and given to settlers in Tennessee.

Because heirloom seeds produce offspring that are very similar to their parents, gardeners can collect their seeds each fall, dry them, and plant them come spring. Hybrids -- which have been bred to resist disease, grow more quickly or produce showier flowers or larger fruit -- are either sterile or reproduce poorly.

Since hybrids are often developed for commercial growers, they might have "improvements" that are of little appeal to home gardeners -- such as tomatoes with skin tough enough to endure shipping or vegetables that ripen all at once so they can be mechanically harvested.

"Many heirloom varieties lack these attributes, but taste better," said Jeffrey Loesch, who grows several heirloom varieties on his plot at the Dowling Community Garden in south Minneapolis. "I think the best example is 'Watermelon Beefsteak' tomatoes, which are incredibly fragile and disease-prone. But they make a BLT sandwich that is to die for."

Jill Bol, Scandia

She doesn't know the name of the plum tomato she grows every year, but that's not important to Jill Bol. That tomato is a direct link to her past.

Bol got the seeds from her father, Leo Casanova, who planted them for years in his Stillwater back yard. Tending the small tomatoes, which she describes as "perfect for salads and snacking" is one way she feels close to her father, who died in 1997.

"They [the tomatoes] were always on the table all summer long when I was growing up," said Bol, who starts five or six plants inside every winter. She sets the pots in a sunny window until the ground warms, then transplants them.

"I can't grow them and eat them without smiling and thinking of my dad. I'll always grow them."

Joel Girardin, Cannon Falls

Joel Girardin flat out loves heirlooms. He scours the Internet and corresponds with other growers to find seeds, then plants with unbridled zest. This year, he has 200 kinds of tomatoes in his football-field-size garden. Plus 125 variations of garlic. Plus 20 varieties of muskmelons, 20 varieties of watermelons and a medley of squash, beans, peppers, potatoes and shallots. He sells some at a farmers market and makes seed available to others who want to try his varieties.

"If you're going to grow one tomato, why not plant 20, and see what the differences are?" he said, explaining his enthusiastic approach. Although he prefers the taste of heirlooms, that isn't the only reason he plants them.

"I like to try new things," he said. "A lot of the stuff I try because of the appearance. There are some ugly, ugly melons. Those are the ones I've got to try."

Jeffrey Loesch, Minneapolis

At his plot in the Dowling Community Garden in south Minneapolis, Jeffrey Loesch is keeping a tradition alive. He plants "sweet and buttery-flavored" climbing beans that he got from a childhood friend of his wife several years ago. Loesch said the beans made the trip from Italy to the Minneapolis area around 1910. He calls them "Fontana beans" to honor the family that brought them.

Loesch kept the beans in a glass jar in an unheated outbuilding for two decades while he and his wife lived in places where gardening wasn't possible. When he got a plot in the community garden, he finally dug out the jar.

"I decided to see if I could restart the beans," he said. "Hoping that one or two of the beans would germinate, I planted 40." Much to his surprise, 32 of those seeds grew. That was five years ago, and Loesch has grown them every year since and has passed his Fontana seeds along to several other gardeners.

Robyn Dochterman is at robdoc@startribune.com