Right. I hear you sneering and rolling your eyes. Seldom has there been a more maligned gift of nature.
I once heard preaching icon Fred Craddock compare something or other to a "cold, boiled okra sandwich" and the whole room groaned in knowing understanding. It wasn't an appealing thought. Suffice it to say that okra is preceded by a challenging reputation.
I, on the other hand -- along with armies of those of a southern persuasion -- happen to like the curious little spike, whether it's fried, gumboed, tomatoed or pickled. I would, however, agree with Dr. Craddock: boiling it is a frighteningly snotty mistake.
Of North-East African origin bearing the technical name"Abelmoschus esculentus", its more common name is "Lady's Finger," though female phalanges rise up in offended protest at the comparison. I rather think of it as the love child of a green bean and a shotgun shell. In truth, if you turn your back on one for more than a few moments, the mild-mannered Bruce Banner vegetable morphs into a woody, elongated Hulk of a protrudence amply hard and dangerous enough to actually serve as a battlefield munition.
Picked in its prime, however -- tender and young -- it can be a gastronomic treasure. Healthy, too. A veritable super food, okra has very few calories, is high in vitamins A, C, K and B-Complex vitamins, rich in iron, calcium,
manganese and magnesium, high in fiber, and as shouldn't surprise anyone who has actually eaten it, is a rich source of a mucilage substance
that helps ease constipation. What's not to like?
So this year I planted three varieties in what now occupy two 60-foot rows: Clemson Spineless, Star of David, and Red Burgundy. 120-feet of okra. And it's flourishing. With the harvest in full swing, let's just say we will have plenty -- in fact, plenty to share if your oil is hot or your shrimp is peeled, or if you are suffering from that occasional bloated feeling. It could be just what you need.
As for me, I am feeling healthier already.
And hungry.
Happy harvesting.
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