As summer rounds the corner and comes scorching down the midway, the tomatillo plants in our garden couldn’t be happier. The bees are buzzing and flitting into the profusion of yellow blossoms and the half-vine, half-branches of the plants are sprawling into every available space. We try tying them up, but how do you restrain a plant the grows like Jack’s proverbial beanstalk every night?

Answer: You don’t. If tomatillos were frost-hardy, they would probably be more invasive than kudzu. Their seeds, on the other hand, could probably outlast a nuclear blast, and since we’re not always as quick to clean the garden as we should be after the first frost, a few seeds become embedded in the soil. Once the soil temperature reaches about 60°F in May, up they come—our tomatillo volunteers. They represent a long lineage stretching back to seeds we brought home from Mexico in the 1990s.

At the top of this post is the dish we first ate in Sanborn’s House of Tiles (sanborns.com.mx) in Mexico City. It is enchiladas suizas—a plate of corn tortillas filled with shredded chicken, smothered in a tangy tomatillo-cream sauce, and topped with a melting cheese. We were so enamored that we started growing tomatillos to ensure we had enough to enjoy the dish often in late summer and fall. One year when we had far too many, we discovered that tomatillos are easy to pressure-can to enjoy all winter. Just remove the husks, blanch for two minutes, hot-pack in jars, and process for 15 minutes at 10-15 pounds of pressure.