Once farming gets into a family’s blood, it sticks there obstinately. My great-grandparents owned a farm in southern Ohio. My grandfather, the original urban gardener, inspired new city ordinances in Cleveland with his tendency to grow corn in his small front lawn. And my father, though he worked as a financial consultant for most of my lifetime, was always nipping over to the empty lot next to our house to coax something out of the ground and to wage epic battles against the deer that were huge fans of his work.

That’s why I wasn’t really surprised to receive this photo last week, of my father proudly displaying one of his largest cabbages to date. (The photo, by the way, is no optical illusion; these suckers really are larger than his head.)

When I asked Farmer Dwight to share his cabbage wisdom with the world, here are the tips he gave me:

1. Pick a variety that will grow large heads. (You don’t want to be out of the game before you even start, people.)
2. Plant early, in April, before it gets too warm. (Frost? Bah! He spits in the face of frost.)
3. Pray that the varmints don’t eat the plants before they get a good start. (If your prayers go unanswered, you can also see Jason’s post from last week about warding off cabbage worms.)

While the cabbages and the other bounty from his garden has given my father’s voice a downright triumphant note on the other end of the phone line, my mother has been sounding somewhat gloomy.

“We’ve been eating a whole lot of cole slaw,” she said. “I’ve made cabbage rolls, cabbage au gratin…I’m running out of ideas of what to do with it.” She made a series of huffy noises when I suggested sauerkraut, and to be fair, I do recall the endless canning sessions she endured on the hottest days of summer to deal with the products of my father’s empty lot experiments. So take note, farmers: mammoth cabbages are all well and good, but perhaps the last cabbage-growing tip should be not to allow your ambitions to exceed the good will of your favorite cook.