Been to the grocery and into the woods and brought back sacks of vittles. That’s food, for those of you who didn’t grow up watching Davey Crockett. None of it was local, alas, except the morels. Not a very big bunch, even before I gave some to my mother. It’s really a little early yet, so I’m happy with what I can get.
I know this doesn’t look like much of a haul altogether, but Charlie and I don’t eat that much. They laugh at me at the farmers’ market when I buy one potato and one turnip, but that’s all it takes to make the dish I have in mind. That’s where the farmers’ market has it all over growing your own. Try growing one turnip a week. Doesn’t happen. You either have no turnips or ten pounds of turnips.
So I have some red new potatoes left from last week, and I’ll cook the green beans with some of them. I’ll cut the heads and tails off the sweet potatoes and roast (or smoke!) them with some of the potatoes, carrots, celery and onions. I’ll probably make eggplant Parmesan. I’ll cut the skinny part of the yellow squash off and slice it and the zucchini and… oh, I don’t know… make a casserole or a stir-fry or tempura or something. I’ll slice the fat part of the yellow squash long-ways and bread it and fry or bake it so it’s crispy outside and tender inside.
And the fruit…. Don’t have to do much of anything with fruit except eat it!
Had our first creative writing class Tuesday night. I don’t know about the students, but I had a blast! There’s something just plain invigorating in talking about the process. I try to think up examples to demonstrate what I’m talking about, and a story seed pops into my head. It makes me want to dance. I gave them an assignment, which I’ll use as today’s prompt.
Writing prompt: Make a list of six professions (use the want ads, if you need to) and a list of four places where people might meet. (My #4 daughter and I have lists of occupations and meeting places that number over 100 each.) Then pick two professions at random and one meeting place at random and write a paragraph in which, say, a priest and a prostitute walk into a bar….