Heirloom vegetable seeds find modern-day audience

I swore I wouldn't order another seed this spring, but that wasbefore I heard Jan Blum give a little talk at the New York BotanicalGarden. Blum, a gardener from Boise, Idaho, got interested inheirloom vegetables years ago when an 84-year-old friend handed hersome seeds - of large royal kidney beans given to him as a weddingpresent back in the 1920s - and suggested she plant them.

Now her 6-year-old company, Seeds Blum, offers a collection ofheirloom vegetable, herb and flower seeds (including the royal kidneybean) that makes the Early Girl tomato and the Boy O' Boy marigoldlook sort of ho-hum by comparison.

Blum flashed a series of gorgeous red tomatoes on the slidescreen: Super Italian Paste, a 4-by-6-incher, and New Zealand Pear,the size and shape of a Bartlett pear - both of which are supposed tomake a tangy sauce once thought to have passed away with ourgreat-great-grandmothers.

But praise be, people have gone back to cultivating theirancestors' seeds. Blum's Currant tomato, for instance, a succulentcherry tomato about the size of a pea, harks as far back as theAztecs of Peru.

"Commercial varieties have been bred for certain traits thataren't important to the backyard gardener - like shipping longdistances and ripening all at once," Blum told her salivatingaudience. "But these heirloom varieties have been saved because theyare the best for the home gardener."

Why? Because of flavor, of course, or crunchiness or juiciness,or an exquisite color or fragrance that's like no other. (Imagine amarigold that looks like an impatiens and smells like a lemon.)

Blum tempted us with a picture of an old-fashioned jar ofGrandma's butter beans. These, she said, taste as if they've beenslathered in butter. But fitness freaks can relax; the flavor's allin the bean. The only problem is, the seeds aren't available untilnext year (so don't go ringing Blum's phone off the hook).

The company puts all its "new" old varieties through variousgermination and taste and texture tests before passing them on to us.But you, too, can become part of the research in this company - bygrowing such seeds in a trial garden or sending the company your ownfamily favorites.

"For a while we were losing these varieties because the oldergardeners were dying off, but now younger people are starting to saveseeds," said Blum.

Blum's collection of eggplants and peppers almost elicited sobsfrom the audience - because, rationally speaking, it's too late tostart these from seed for this summer. But as each slide passedbefore our eyes, the urge to try them, even at this late date, wasalmost irresistible.

Blum showed us Snake Eyes, a baby eggplant variety that grows ingrapelike clusters and is cooked in the skin and then mashed. Sheshowed us Baby White Tiger Stripe, whose tasty seeds add crunch to asummer stir-fry. Her collection of peppers included themahogany-colored Sweet Chocolate and the deep orange Tequila Sunrise.

The potato collection - heirloom varieties such as the100-year-old yellow Bintje, a deep pink Ruby Crescent and All Blue -not only can turn a plate of sliced new potatoes into a rainbow ofcolors, but Blum promised their earthy pungent flavor will makebattling the potato bug well worth the struggle.

For those brave and patient enough to grow melons, Blum'sfavorite this year is Moon and Stars: a very sweet, brightred-fleshed variety, whose dark green skin is actually splashed withyellow stars and a large golden moon.

Certainly Blum is not the first to sell heirloom seeds; it'sjust that her catalog reawakens something the slicker companies seemto have lost - a sense of community among gardeners that comes fromswapping seeds and family secrets. Her notes and comments have afolksy, yet disciplined air that walks that delicate line betweendown-home sappiness and brittle-dry science.

For a catalog, send $2 to Seeds Blum, Idaho City Stage, Boise,Idaho 83706.