I thought we needed a break from the constant eye-bleeding red shots of tomatoes, though that is what is on our plates these days.
Pears are also thundering into ripeness, so those are in our hands, our bowls, and maybe if I have the gumption, our drinking glasses. I know there are thousands of uses for pears, but — gumption, people.
I've been quiet lately, but food has been happening. It's mostly not kitchen-intensive, though today we are firing up the oven for something I dreamed up (though I'm probably not alone in conceiving of it) involving a chicken and white beans.
In the no-heat-applied department, we've done some fermenting, a little ice-cream machining, and an oddly successful melange of emergency garden produce mixing fruits and vegetables in a salad.
I love gardening. I love growing my own food.
I just hate that the garden thinks it can crack its damn whip at me, and I'll cower.
I do cower.
Damn you, garden. Just remember, I own the water.