'Hey, Bob, do you want to smell our flowers?'

How ornamentals are quickly becoming the star of our garden.

The other day I stomped out of the garden, huffing to myself about the kale that some critter or critters had stripped to its ribs, the cucumbers that were there yesterday and gone now, and the tomatoes with teeth marks left on the vine.

Our kale fed something else.

When I turned around to shut the gate — why we even have a gate, I don’t know, it’s clearly a free-for-all in there — I saw Jagger, bending down toward a pot of marigolds to take in their musky-sweet scent. I was having a little temper tantrum about what we’d lost, and the 4.5-year-old was appreciating what we had.

Watering marigolds

There is certainly reason to be optimistic for the many weeks left in this growing season. Our Sungold tomato plant is producing enough cherry-size yellow tomatoes for a salad every day; the Fourth of July tomatoes are starting to turn color right on time; we eked out a couple of good rounds of green beans; our bell, banana, and ghost peppers are in various stages of ripeness; and we’ve got plenty of herbs, fennel, and arugula still steadily coming in.

Sungold tomatoes turning yellow.

But it’s clear that the ornamentals we put in this year — mostly in a faulty attempt to ward off deer and other hungry, uninvited guests — have been the sleeper hits of the summer. Marigolds, geraniums, petunias, purslane, lantanas, celosias, and zinnias give us a rainbow of colors and aromas to see and smell.

After every watering session, Jagger goes from flower to flower, leans over, and inhales deeply. He was doing his smelling routine when he noticed our neighbor Bob pulling weeds in his yard. “Hey, Bob!” he called out. “Do you want to smell our flowers?”

Bob turned down the invite that time, but he did remark how nice our garden looked this summer. Wait till he smells it.

Smelling the goods at the Philadelphia Flower Show.

Recipe: Cacio e Pepe

We make a lot of Kraft macaroni and cheese around here, and it always reminds me of cacio e pepe, just without the pepe and with bright-orange powdered cacio. The real version is perfect with a light salad of garden herbs and tomatoes under a lemony buttermilk dressing that cools down the warming heat of the black pepper.

Serves 2

6-8 oz dried pasta (you can use noodles like spaghetti or bucatini, but also don’t be afraid to try a non-noodle shape like radiatore with lots of nooks and crannies to hold sauce in every bite)

4 tablespoons unsalted butter, divided (see note)

2 tablespoons cracked black pepper (see note)

1 cup grated parmesan cheese (see note)

1/4 cup grated pecorino cheese

1. Boil pasta in salted water, stirring occasionally. Drain the pasta, reserving about 3/4 cup of the cooking water.

2. Melt half the butter in a skillet over medium heat, then stir in the black pepper and swirl for about 1 minute, until it begins to smell fragrant but not burnt.

3. Add 1/2 cup reserved pasta water to the skillet, followed by the pasta and the remaining butter. Stir until the ingredients combine and the sauce begins to coat the pasta.

4. Remove from heat and stir in the cheeses, adding more of the reserved pasta water as needed if the sauce seems too dry. Serve.

Note: The butter, pepper, and cheese measurements should be to your liking. More cacio and more pepe is always more better. Recipe adapted from Bon Appetit.

Thank you for reading, and enjoy! EB