At last!

July 2, 2016

About damn time. Fresh veggies dinner.

About damn time. Fresh veggies dinner.

Had pork chops thawed. Didn’t cook ’em. Didn’t want ’em. Didn’t need ’em.

Because the above, you see is the first farmers market dinner of the season, two or three weeks late because today was the first day I’ve been able to GET to the farmers market since I’ve been hobbled by this damn ankle.

And tomatoes by God and me. Out of my very own, terribly grassed-over, garden. That was possibly the best tomato I ever ate in my life. Seriously. Perfection in a tomato.

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 This is on the far edge of Sweet Baby Jesus, edging into eyes-roll-back-in-head category.


This is on the far edge of Sweet Baby Jesus, edging into eyes-roll-back-in-head category.

Four words: Kentucky. Wonder. Green. Beans.

These things are the caviar, the prime rib, the fresh Maine lobster, of the summer garden vegetable world. Well, those and  July heirloom tomatoes and Silver Queen corn.

And I found some of them at the Farmers’ Market Saturday morning. In the rain. Never has getting soaked been so worth it.

You see, my Daddy would grow only two varieties of beans: Blue Lake, which bore early, and Kentucky Wonders, which bore later, and well on into the long autumn. Blue Lakes were OK. The day we picked the first mess of Kentucky Wonders was akin to a national holiday.

I am even immortalized on YouTube, praising Kentucky Wonders in my debut¬†story I read at Tales from the South. I still think it’s the best of the three I’ve done.

If you ever see these -- buy 'em.

If you ever see these — buy ’em.

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June 23, 2013

Fresh summer goodness,  right here.

Fresh summer goodness, right here.

Once again, it’s a farmers’ market dinner.

The first black-eyed peas of the season are in. Ditto the first okra. I tried, and failed, to recreate the cucumber salad from Steinhauskeller, but what I turned out isn’t bad. I had organic, farm-raised chicken left over from what I’d roasted last Sunday. There were tomatoes. If I can’t work from that, I need to turn in my knives.

Speaking of which, the newly sharpened knives are powerfully sharp. A gash in my finger testifies to this.

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