Is It Worth It to Grow Food on a Small Scale? An Honest Reflection

The gardening internet is full of encouragement for folks who want to grow their own food. Even as an apartment dweller, I am constantly being urged to grow lettuce in a window box or tomatoes in a bag. In theory, I completely support it. I would opt out of the industrial food system in a heartbeat if I could. 

Many reputable sources provide great advice for growing edible plants in small spaces and containers. No doubt they mean well and have had success in their endeavors. However, their optimism that anyone can grow abundant, delicious fruit and veg in a small space with relative ease has, in my case, done more (psychological, emotional) harm than good.  

I have only been growing vegetables for two seasons and can’t claim to have gained any agricultural expertise in such a short time, but I have learned quite a few lessons from the experience. Hopefully by sharing them I can save you from some of the mistakes I made and support you in finding an approach to edible plants that feels attainable and joyful for you and your garden.

The Truth About Growing Food

Growing my own food is my DREAM. I am a total sucker for the homesteading lifestyle, as problematic and romanticized as it is. When I picture my retirement, my husband and I are living off the fertile red soil of his family land in Puglia, climate change permitting, with a bountiful orto and chickens and maybe a couple goats.

As that is not currently my reality, I am quite vulnerable to the idea of transforming my little balcony into a fully functioning miniature farm.

But the fact of the matter is that growing vegetables is hard. This LA Times article contains one of the most honest statements I’ve found about growing vegetables in containers: “here is the bald truth about growing food: You can’t just put it in a pretty pot and walk away.”

What it Takes to Grow Abundant Produce  

Most edible crops require daily tending to keep them healthy and productive, including:

• Lots of water. They are NOT drought tolerant!
• Lots of nutrients
• Regular pruning to keep them free of pests and diseases

Not only that, but most vegetables require a lot of gear, such as:

• Deep, ample containers or raised beds
• Rich, fertile soil to thrive and develop good flavor
• Fabric or netting to protect your harvest from birds, rodents, and other beasties
• Cages and stakes for vigorous growers
• The oft-cited solution for small spaces, vertical gardening, requires buying or building trellises, supports, or other contraptions which may be beyond a humble renter’s budget, skill set, or lease agreement

And that’s just day-to-day maintenance. There’s also harvesting, crop rotation, and successive planting to keep your garden healthy and productive all year round.

All of the above can be really fun and fascinating! I would love to spend my time, resources, and mental energy on growing food! I’m not being facetious; I genuinely wish that was my life. But right now, it’s not.

Humble Balcony Beginnings

On my first balcony, kitchen herbs were gateway plants to edible gardening. Snipping off a sprig of fresh mint to garnish a cocktail and making pesto from my own basil plant introduced me to that satisfaction everyone talks about getting from growing food. 

We inherited a container of wild strawberries from neighbors who were vacating the apartment below us. Every month or so throughout the summer I harvested a handful of tiny ruby-red strawberries. They were delicious, but too sparse and small to serve any real culinary purpose. I wanted more.

The El Cerrito Vegetable Garden

My first real foray into vegetable gardening took place during our year of having a backyard in the East Bay suburb of El Cerrito. Finally, I had space and actual soil to work with, but quickly learned I lacked the budget to create the garden of my dreams. I tried hard to find free and second-hand tools and supplies, and grew almost everything from seed, but still spent hundreds of dollars on raised beds, planting mix, and compost.

Furthermore, I was shocked by the determination of local wildlife to thwart all my plans. Every morning, I went outside to find another casualty. Cilantro chomped to the ground. A five-foot yellow pear tomato stripped of all its ripe fruit. Chard leaves rotting and riddled with holes from some insect or plague.

There were some good harvests, like my carrots, arugula, and lettuce. But still, the garden never yielded enough produce to save us a trip to the market. We eat salad like every day! The single row of lettuce I planted would never be enough!

We left that house in El Cerrito for a few reasons, among them the rats that ate all my produce and the awful landlord and the unceasingly cold, windy, and foggy microclimate (which didn’t help my backyard farming efforts). We moved right back into our old apartment building in Oakland in a southwest-facing unit. On one level I was sad to abandon the garden I worked so hard on, but on another I was relieved to give up my illusions of grandeur and return to good old container gardening.

Tomatopocalypse in Oakland

That Christmas, my French brother-in-law gave me several packets of French tomato and pepper seeds, all varieties suited to containers and small spaces. I was excited to convert my sunny kitchen window into a seedling nursery and try growing tomatoes and peppers in pots in warm, sunny Oakland.

Nurturing those plants that spring was wonderful. I grew too many tomatoes and gave several away, while squeezing EIGHT varieties into pots on the balcony.

But as the summer wore on, a white film bloomed on all of my tomatoes’ stems and leaves, eventually turning to blackish spots — powdery mildew. I tried pruning to encourage air circulation, watering only the base of the plants, spraying with neem oil… nothing worked. Perhaps the virulent Bay Area mildew strains were too much for the delicate French tomato varieties.

The plants seemed to be surviving, so I hoped they would weather the onslaught. Then the date of our summer trip to Italy arrived and I realized I was a total idiot. I would be gone for all of July. At the peak of tomato harvesting.

My housesitting friend graciously harvested, roasted, and froze a batch of them while we were gone, and I was able to harvest another handful before the end of August. 

But they weren’t even that good! Six months of constant tending, watering, feeding, tying in, pruning… for a measly harvest of bland tomatoes.

Lessons Learned

So you can probably understand why this year, I’m taking a little break from vegetables and refocusing my efforts. But would I categorically proclaim that growing food in a small space isn’t worth it? Of course not! I had fun, obviously learned a lot, and even got to enjoy some of the fruits of my labor. I just need to scale back my expectations and my food-growing operations to a level that works for my lifestyle and my space.

For example, last fall I invested in a couple of low-maintenance fruiting trees (olive and fig, my new best friends) that won’t require constant care to survive. If they yield a few snacks, great; if not, they still provide beauty and make me feel like I’m in Puglia. Rather than tomatoes, I’m growing mostly ornamental flowers from seed.

Someday I hope for a community garden plot so I can continue my agricultural education and maybe grow enough produce to make a dent in our grocery bill. But having married an Italian person, I need to factor in a three–four-week trip to Italy at least once a year. I wouldn’t want it any other way, but I’ve learned my lesson: you can’t just pop vegetables into pots (or plots) and walk away. 

Edible Success Stories

That said, I’ve grown a few edible plants in my garden that have been well worth the effort in terms of usefulness and yield. They all share something crucial in common: A little goes a long way.

• Hot peppers, like cayenne, that can be dried and ground up in a food processor and used for seasoning. Just one cayenne plant can produce enough dried pepper flakes to last for months!
• Strong-flavored Mediterranean herbs, like rosemary, thyme, and oregano, where you only need a sprig or two to marinate a leg of lamb, stuff a chicken, or liven up a salad. You can also dry them for year-round use!
• Bay laurel, which I’ve already enthused about at length.
• Medicinal and fragrant plants that can be steeped, such as chamomile, lavender, and rose. You only need to pinch off a few blossoms to make yourself a soothing and beneficial tea. These can be dried and stored, too!

I would never discourage anyone from attempting to grow their own food in a small space. If that’s your dream and you have the resources to accomplish it, I support you! Personally, I grow food for love of the process, not to save money or fight capitalism or sustain my family. This is a realistic approach for my circumstances. I wish someone had told me that sooner, but to be honest, I’m not sure I would have listened. I tend to learn things the hard way.

If you have had particular success growing any edible plants in your small space, please share your wisdom in the comments!