Confession time. First of all, thanks to all the visitors who have laughed and cheered me on this week. And when I say I'm really enjoying this eating project, I mean it.
It's just that I woke up a little shaky today. Low on energy. Craving fruit.
The only fruit I've had all week was a small dish of foraged blackberries, and some of them were so sour I got a tummy ache.
I think there's a plum tree up the road a bit with branches hanging over the public sidewalk... But I wasn't sure I could drag myself there on foot, feeling the way I did, and maybe the low-hanging ones would have already been picked.
So at our visit (oh god, we drove!) to the farmers' market this morning (radishes, onions, zucchini from Star Route Farms in Marin), I broke down and bought apples from Sebastopol. And ate one. Weak, and tempted by the serpent of hypoglycemia, I was cast out of the garden.
Yep, I'm prematurely in another county (but, hey: the apple farm is less than 45 miles away). Our self-imposed Marin-only diet ended one day early.
What's worse, it triggered a near-fatal burrito deficiency in Beloved Husband and Co-Cook for some reason. (I guess once you start cheating -- well, gateway drug to the hard stuff, right?)
So, yeah. He had a carne asada-bean bomb from the nearby taqueria.
And I ate the corn chips.
I hang my head in shame.