Spontaneous explosion, hail, slimy critters can reduce potential prizewinner to coleslaw
PALMER -- Three years ago, Scott Robb had the Holy Grail of giant cabbage, a leafy, six-foot-wide behemoth that could have cracked the 100-pound mark at the Alaska State Fair.
Four days before the official weigh-in, his dream exploded, literally. Out for a morning check on his prized plants, he found the cabbage's glistening beach ball-size head had burst like an egg cracked on the side of the mixing bowl.
As his wife, Mardie, recalled, the result was "instant coleslaw," and instant disqualification given contest rules require plants be in "good physical condition."
When they put the cabbage on a home scale later, it topped 100 pounds, a barrier that's been broken only once in over 60 years of the contest.
"You should have seen poor Scott's face," she said. "We knew it was big, but to hit over the 100-pound mark and for it to be literally coleslaw was not fun."
While most gardeners are winding down their efforts this time of year, giant cabbage growers are sweating every second until the official weigh-in on Friday.
They cross their fingers, knock on wood, and pray to whatever gardening gods exist that no ill fate befalls their prized crucifers like the dreaded burst head, which is caused when the plant simply grows too fast. But the list of things that can go wrong with a giant cabbage is lengthy and not very pretty.
They can be slimed to bits by slugs, nibbled to nubs by rabbits and porcupines, or entirely razed by moose as more than one competitor has woken to discover.
Heavy rain can also reduce leaves to wilted stubs, and root maggots can tunnel in from below to choke off the flow of food. When the latter happens, mystified growers will scratch their heads trying to figure out why their plant keeps wilting, Scott Robb said.
NOT OVER 'TIL IT'S OVER
Growers can't even breathe easy once the big day arrives. Plucking one of the monsters from its seat in the ground is its own art. Do it wrong and precious leaves can break off, which can mean the difference between $2,000 first prize and a nice colored ribbon.
Last year Robb, who has placed in the top three seven times since 1996, lost by less than half a pound, or the equivalent of less than a third of one of the plant's big leaves.
"Up until that cabbage gets on that scale, there's no resting. It doesn't happen," said Mardie Robb.
Even the experienced aren't exempt from disaster.
Don Dinkel is from the legendary Dinkel farm family that has captured the giant cabbage title nine times in the past 12 years.
This year, his granddaughter Brenna, 13, who has won the contest three times, had some potential winners at their farm off Fairview Loop Road, he said. That was until earlier this month when he watched a dark cloud descend on the farm.
First the rain started. "I thought, 'Oh, OK, no problem,' " he said.
But then came the hail.
By the end, some of their biggest cabbages looked like some of Valley's road signs.
"They were just mutilated," he said. "It looked like someone took a shotgun to it."
To make matters worse, the hailstorm was so limited it didn't even hit a neighbor's home a half mile away, he said.
LABOR OF LOVE
To say giant cabbage growers baby their veggies is like asking whether Paris Hilton pampers her Chihuahua Tinkerbell.
Barb Everingham, of Wasilla, who holds the state record with a 105.6-pound monster she grew in 2000, remembers putting soda bottles under the leaves of her plants to keep them from rotting. She also put rocks on each end to mark how fast they grew. On good days, it was more than inch, she said.
At his home off the Glenn Highway across from the state fairgrounds, Robb's cabbages get better accommodations than professional football players.
Most are enclosed by an electrified moose-proof fence and swathed in a protective sheet to protect them from the rain and sun.
On hot days, he uses plastic pipes attached to an air compressor to pump in a cooling breeze underneath their leaves. Meanwhile, on wet days, he breaks out a Shop-Vac to vacuum water off the leaves and suck up errant slugs.
Robb, who holds the title to seven state fair records including biggest kale, biggest celery, biggest cantaloupe and biggest turnip, admits he has a bit of an obsession. But he said it's all a labor of love.
"I've told people many times, I don't four-wheel. I don't fish. There's a lot of people who don't like getting their fingers in the dirt. I just love that," he said.
His wife offers a slightly different description.
"I call him psychogrower," she said.
This year, Robb has hopes for a potential first place but is not expecting a record breaker because of the cool weather. Out of a starting crop of 33 plants, he has only two that he thinks are even potential title contenders.
Last year, in comparison, he had a half dozen that were potential competitors, he said.
Dinkel also said he thinks his granddaughter will be hard pressed to get up to 90-pound range given the damage from the hailstorm.
Still, even if no one cracks the 100-pound mark, there's sure to be winners at least around the Robb's home. Last year, the Robbs gave away hundreds of pounds of cabbage from the plants they didn't use to the senior center, to their neighbor, even to the guy who cleans their carpet.
Find S.J. Komarnitsky at www.adn.com/contact/skomarnitsky or 1-907-352-6714.
State fair veggies galore
GIANT CABBAGE WEIGH OFF: 6 p.m. Friday in the Farm Exhibits Building; $2,000 first place prize
Five heaviest state fair cabbages since 1996
2000: 105.60 pounds -- Barb Everingham, Wasilla
2000: 94.4 pounds -- Seth Dinkel, Wasilla
2001: 92.5 pounds -- Seth Dinkel, Wasilla
1999: 91.6 pounds -- Gene. A. Dinkel, Wasilla
2004: 90.5 pounds -- Scott Robb, Palmer
Other state fair records
Chard: 71.75 pounds -- Mary Evans, Palmer, 1995
Watermelon: 168.60 pounds -- Scott Robb, Palmer, 2005
Root beet: 42.75 pounds (world record) -- John Evans, Palmer, 1999
Longest bean: 22.75 inches -- Dave Iles, North Pole, 2005
Tallest corn: 23 feet 3.5 inches -- David Iles, North Pole, 2006