I'm still here. I'm mad as hell, but there's nothing blogging is going to do to help out.
And I eat.
But nothing fancy.
The other day I razzed Heather for posting about the salad she had made. Salad.
But see, she's busy with other things. Like growing a baby inside her body. I imagine a lot of that's pretty passive work, but still, we forgive her for not banging out an entire feast for twelve, the way she has done in the past. (And there's still that pig roast coming up.)
Me? No excuse. Whatsoever.
Just passive. Lazy. Yearning for perfect weather, and instead getting the threat of rain.
Well, the eight little seedlings I planted in the garden yesterday morning would like the rain, so bring it on. (Or did Bush so irretrievably taint that phrase that we must retire it, along with the surname Hitler?)
Anyway. This "salad" is modeled on tabouleh, but it's made with brown rice. The rice adds a wonderful flavor. The onions, parsley and mint are from the yard. The tomatoes are hothouse from the market, and probably the cukes too.
What a maddening season.