Southeast Asian immigrants grow crops in Seattle’s P-Patches to produce familiar flavors for their families

A PATCHWORK QUILT of green blankets from Aun Neovs P-Patch garden plot. Neov does without tidy rows and plants wherever there is space. Light green lemongrass mixes with corn and garlic stalks. Yams mix with pumpkins. Potatoes and bean tendrils full of small red flowers curl up in trellises from backyard branches.

On one edge, the long, heart-shaped leaves of the taro plants hang towards the dark, wet earth. Growing taro itself allows Neov to also harvest the stem – not just the root – for cooking traditional soups.

“I don’t see it in the supermarket, just the root, but we also eat the stalk,” says Neov.

The New Holly Power Garden, home to Neov’s P-Patch, is one of 89 community gardens operated by the City of Seattle. The plots offer urban gardeners the space to grow. For many Southeast Asian immigrants, it is also an opportunity to grow food from their homeland. Growing plants in a new location brings challenges, but sometimes it’s the only way to keep that flavor in their life.

The sun kept getting stronger as Jojo Tran, a fellow gardener and interpreter for a study group, weaves through the New Holly Youth and Family P-Patch.

He tears off a small sheet and puts it in his mouth. Rau má, he announces immediately.

“I’ve never seen it in a P-Patch,” he says.

Additionally, he has not tried the traditional Vietnamese drink made from Rau Má since he left two decades ago.

“I haven’t had Rau Má for many years,” adds Tran. “It’s very rare to find.”

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The locally rare herb was picked from Kha Trans property and grew in a styrofoam box. Usually the seeds for the marsh plant come directly from Vietnam. Several other hard-to-find Vietnamese herbs in containers lined Trans property.

A few parcels further, Nguyêt Ngô, who also grows Rau Má, winds bean vines around stakes.

“In Vietnam we can grow all year round, but in Seattle only in summer,” she tells me through an interpreter. “Growing here is more difficult because if we grow too early it will die.”

A rau tần ô, also known as an edible chrysanthemum, stands in a far corner of Ngô’s garden across from several kale plants. In between grow bí đao (a white winter melon), mồng tơi (a kind of leafy green), bầu (a long, light green pumpkin) and đậu qu (a long bean).

“Working in the garden reminds me of home,” says Sow Poo Saephan.

Saephan’s garden at Georgetown’s Marra Farm reflects her hometown high in the mountains of Laos. At one edge, bean vines and climbing jams wind around stakes and grab the next branch. Potatoes mix with pumpkin and flowers with no apparent pattern. Hidden in the mixture of green leaves are kale and zucchini – new transplants in her garden.

After a number of hot days at the beginning of the growing season, Saephan comes to her P-patch early and takes advantage of the cool morning. Gently and quickly, she removes the weeds around her growing vegetables, leaving what she pulls to give her pumpkin something to climb on while it grows.

The sprawling Marra Farm in Georgetown is jam-packed with P-Patch lots and covers 5,600 square feet. Every few minutes, planes chase long shadows across the garden like fast-moving clouds.

“I’ve tried many things from my country; some grow, some don’t, ”says Saephan.

An experiment to grow black and sticky rice quickly failed.

It grew about a foot, she explains, and hovers her hand about 12 inches off the ground.

“Then it died,” says Saephan with a laugh.

Saephan had success with a variety of white corn she had grown in Laos. In mid-July, the stems tower over the delicate saephan, purple and white tassels blow in the wind. In September, Saephan will harvest the little white ears of corn and bring them home to her family, including a handful of grandchildren, not just a taste of it but an enduring bond with Laos.

Lizz Giordano
is a writer and photographer based in Seattle’s Rainier Valley.