March 12, 2017
I think it’s my fault it snowed.
Y’see, how it was, was, I was feeling all springy and such, and I indulged in fruit. Lots of fruit the past week or 10 days. Strawberries, blueberries, pineapple, pears, watermelon. I even toyed with the idea of adding some small watermelons and some canteloupes to my garden plan.
And Mother Nature said, “Uh, uh, no you don’t! Don’t you even start thinking about spring and such!” And that bitch dumped four inches of snow on us yesterday afternoon and last night. On the very day, in fact, that I was supposed to go to Lowe’s and pick up my order of bagged compost, fence stuff, and other assorted garden-y things.
Pffth. I just hope it didn’t get the early peaches.
Anyway. I’m enjoying fruit, whatever the weather is. I made yogurt the other day, and granola, and I’ve had that with both pineapple and with strawberries. Good breakfast fare, that; it’ll stay with you for a while.
July 12, 2016
If you ever wanted any proof that God has a sweet tooth, the astounding fruit this season ought to convince you.
Strawberries, which were pretty weak last year, made up for it in spades; some of the sweetest, prettiest berries I’ve seen in years. Blueberries, likewise, were plentiful and sweet, although it seemed the season was awfully short. Ditto raspberries. And I have already waxed rhapsodic about the blackberries.
I’m getting some exceptional canteloupe now, and I have a watermelon in my fridge I’ll cut sometime soon.
And for the last month, we’ve had peaches at the farmers market. We’re in peach country here, with sizeable orchards to the north and south of us. The cling peaches were first up, smaller, and something of a pain to separate from their pit, but awfully sweet and good. And last week, I found my first freestone peaches at the market.
March 20, 2013
Because, one ought to cook all the stews one can before winter’s over, yes? Yes.
Besides, I’ve got this lamb thing going on. You see, in my blue-collar, not-trailer-park-but-not-all-that-far-from-it background, I never, never ate lamb. Wasn’t in our world view, just like veal wasn’t in our world view. We ate beef, and pork, and chicken, and game of all varieties, and seafood of whatever nature could be locally caught, plus shrimp when we went out.
It’s not like we were all beans and cornbread, OK?
But lamb. I never saw a live sheep, other than in the annual Living Nativity scene, in which I was, by turns, an angel (don’t laugh), a shepherd, a Wise Man (person), and one significant year, Mary, and they shipped those in from somewhere. Stinky critters they were, too. And when I left home and went to the Big City, well, there may have been a few restaurants in Memphis that served lamb, but I never found ’em.