The Gardener Who Inspired Me: Otto’s Legacy and a Fresh Mustard Greens Recipe

The first time I met Otto, I was almost eight and woefully unsure of myself. My world went from zero to sixty in an instant, as I came to live with my new family after getting adopted from Galveston Orphan’s Home, after being there more than two years. I was a stranger in a strange land and Otto befriended me and all my siblings. My parents often took us to our Café, a charming and typical small-town eatery. It was just off Highway 6 in Alta Loma, Texas.

Behind the swinging doors that separated patrons from staff, Otto worked away, unloading stacks of produce, meat, huge bags of flour, sugar, and gallon cans of tomatoes, corn, and beans. He was quiet and polite, and as time passed, all us kids got to know him well and to adore him; he was a fixture, serving as dishwasher and sometimes cook, busily keeping the place going. 

Otto was humble, you’d miss him if you didn’t look close enough, he’d pass by, not the flashiest or best dressed, he kept to himself but had a heart as big as Texas and would give you the shirt off his back. His kind brown eyes and gentle smile lit up his face when he spoke of his native country, Germany, like it was Shangri-La or something. He made it sound like he’d just gotten back from a flight there, just touched down. Filled with pride, he'd look off at something we couldn’t see, reliving a life that played out before him even though he’d been in America the last fifty of his seventy years. He spoke of returning though, said he learned to garden there, his father taught him about the earth, how the soil was the most important tool, how you could grow anything if you just got that right.

 As time passed, I thought of him as the Guardian of the Café, when we weren’t there, he watched over everything, stirring pots, cleaning, and gardening. As I grew up and went off to college, I noticed he was a bit frail, but he could lift like a body builder, swinging crates over his head as if they were nothing. He was like a favorite uncle, and although he wasn’t related, that meant nothing, I was a vagabond myself. 

Otto’s little yard behind the Café became a place where all of us kids hung out while we waited for mama to finish things up. His garden was not just great for healthy snacking, as we watched in surprise, as he pulled tender veggies from the black earth, then we’d pop them into our waiting mouths. His garden was also for dreaming, hiding there to read a book, slowing down to appreciate life. In summer, there was always fresh silky corn that could be picked and boiling in ten minutes flat, delish with butter and salt. He also grew climbing cucumbers and tomatoes, both big boy and beefsteak as well as patio tomatoes and those little grape tomatoes that exploded in your mouth. You could always count on golden yellow-neck squash, bell peppers, okra, mustard greens, shallots, collards, and broccoli, in spring or fall. Then there were the brussels sprouts, which I thought odd, but I learned to overcome their gassiness as time passed… 

Mama relied on Otto to keep everything simmering; he seemed a permanent fixture in our lives. I don’t know why we were glued to him, but we were. He seemed almost innocent and child-like but was fiercely protective of us, and we loved him for it. 

Going in his yard where his garden stood was not without peril though, he had a yapper Chihuahua dog named Snipe that Mama had given him. It ran Otto’s yard and house like a commando. I got bit more than once. That Snipe was quite a piece of work, on my tail endlessly. I don’t know if Snipe never got the memo and realized that I was part of the family or he was just a short shank of a dog, but he and I were never friends, and I mean never. I tried to steer clear of him, but he rooted me out, snapping like a turtle.

Otto and I would often go outside, right beside the café where he beamed as he pointed out his spring garden that would produce crops until July, with neat rows of vegetables; all the while he smiled like a cat. He’d squat down, reverently revealing shoots of snap peas bursting in sunshine. Everything was lush, beautiful, and thriving. I wanted to know just how he did it and for years, he taught me about preparing planting beds, watering, and what to plant. When I think of it, I must have spoken to him hundreds of times in my childhood, but never once did we discuss anything other than what he was growing, as he tended the soil year in and year out, giving us unending pleasure. 

Karen's garden inspired by Otto.

I bugged Otto about flowers and houseplants because I was interested in them, hounding him with questions day and night. Although he did not grow them, his advice was always the same-prepare the bed, the soil, the foundation for what you are planting and water well, then let the plant tell you what it needs. I’ll be honest, I’m still getting the hang of that.

Cabbage grown by Karen.

Remembering what Otto said all those years ago, I started experimenting with house plants and quickly took it outside where we had a raised bed, planting vegetables for spring and fall, finding what grew best in our little island garden. We cook and eat fresh goods from it, often sharing with friends and family when we have a bumper crop. Some years we have tons of tomatoes, other years the onions or carrots produce huge yields. I can never predict it, and that’s the wonder, getting that delightful surprise every season. 

Some more goodies from Karen's garden.

I’m always thrilled with the vegetable and herb garden, but flowering plants take my breath away. The island we live on is quite windy and can be a challenge for proper watering. As I look after my top favorites, the stunning and showy Pride of Barbados, also known as the Peacock flower, with its orange, red and yellow pedals and fern-like leaves, is the national flower of Barbados and in my top five favs. It blooms late spring to early fall and is a bit skittish and sensitive to cold and frost but typically bounces back in mid-spring. While visiting Hawaii, we fell in love with this tall, lush, striking shrub that flourishes in Hawaii’s warm, tropical environment.

Karen's Pride of Barbados in her yard.

Another favorite is the Barbados lily, also known as the Amaryllis Lily. It’s bold trumpet-like flowers and red and pink colors remind me of a candy cane, and I find myself fawning over its flowers. Whether in the garden or decorative pot, indoors or outside, it’s well suited for our tropical island environment and a real gem to boot.

The Lily of the Nile, makes me feel restful and lazy. With its delightfully elegant, tall dark-green leaves and violet blue cluster flowers sitting daintily atop slender tuberous stems, it lends a graceful presence in the garden. I often take my tea and Scottish shortbread under the breezeway, where it flutters in the afternoon breeze. 

The Desert Rose is just the bomb! This African native’s trumpet-like pink flowers are little showstoppers, especially in a brightly painted contrasting aqua pot. I’ve had endless joy sitting under the palapa, gazing at this little darling.

Karen's desert rose flowers in her garden

Frangipani, also known as Plumeria, are what leis in Hawaii are made of, smelling sweet and alluring. I often bring the flowers inside, putting them in a merry vase where they steal the show at parties or the everyday, never ceasing to amaze.

Sometimes, when I’m overwhelmed, busy putting out life’s fires, I’ll take a break and head outside, where I’m never disappointed. Forever in awe of pristine and newly planted beds, I gaze at those tiny seeds popping out of the ground, their heads straining for survival. To make sure they’re doing ok, I check on them the next day, and the next and the next. Out in the hush and quiet of the morning, when dew is still making them glisten, I discover the miraculous seedlings have taken off. Their green sprouts burgeoning with fruit, reminding me just how Otto must have felt.

When I was growing up, we would often cook what Otto grew, with one dish becoming an all-time favorite, mustard greens. I would smell the bacon sizzling, then that deeply satisfying aroma that pork hocks and greens emitted as they simmered, making me salivate for their deep, rich taste. Mama made cornbread too, which we slathered with spoonful’s of soft butter. I can close my eyes and taste it today, all these years later. 

I always thought of Otto as The Gardener, hoping I could be called gardener one day, too. But the unassuming, meek man taught me so much more than I ever thought possible. Otto taught more than just gardening, he taught me to be patient, to respect the land, and to let someone else go first. I can still see him outside leaning against his rake, looking across the yard, perhaps imagining being back in his beloved Germany, with his Father at his side, tending what he created. Then the sun and wind catches just a hint of tomatoes, squash and greens, wafting it way high in the air for all of heaven. This is for you, Otto.

Karen and Otto

Check out the mustard greens recipe below!

Mustard Greens Recipe-5.pdf

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Mustard Greens

Recipe By: Karen Hand Allen (www.karenhandallen.com) 

These savory greens are sure to please with their bacon and ham hock smoky goodness. The broth is downright scrumptious, where onions, garlic and creole seasoning will have you singing and coming back for more. Served with corn bread, these greens are a southern tradition that will make you want to slap ya’ mama!

Servings: 8-10

Prep Time: 15 mins | Cooking Time: 75  mins | Rest Time: None | Total Time: 90 mins

Ingredients:  2 pounds Mustard greens-(2 bunches) 3 strips bacon, slice into bite sized pieces 1 large onion chopped 1 clove chopped garlic ½ teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes 1 tablespoon apple cider vinegar 8 cups chicken broth 1 smoked ham hock 1 tablespoon brown sugar 2 teaspoons seasoned salt (like Lowry’s) Salt to taste Pepper to taste

Instructions: Wash greens thoroughly to remove grit, at least 2-3 times. Remove stems and discard. Chop leaves. In a large stockpot sauté bacon until crispy. Remove bacon to plate. Add diced onion to bacon grease, cooking on medium low heat until transparent. Add chopped garlic, cooking for 1-2 minutes until fragrant. Add greens Add crushed red pepper flakes and apple cider vinegar. Add Chicken broth, ham hock, brown sugar and seasoned salt. Stir well, cover the pot, turn to low heat, cooking about 75 minutes (1 hour 15 minutes), stirring occasionally, until tender, adding bacon last ten minutes. Add salt and pepper to taste. Remove ham hock, cutting into bite sized pieces. Return to greens and mix well. Enjoy!

Note: If you don’t have a ham hock double the bacon!