What the World Might be Like
It’s felt like rain for days now, the air warm and thick, but nothing. We sure could use a few bucketfuls to fall from the darkening clouds, the autumn carrots especially. Hoses have been put away at this point, so those little guys are on their own. Maybe today is their day.
I reposted my about page, you can check that out here if you're new to this blog and have wondered who's behind this thing. About pages are a tedious, naval-gazing thing to write, which is why I haven’t replaced the outdated one I took down two years ago. Until now. I tried to be brief yet thoughtful. I hope it is helpful to new folks arriving here.
A few weeks ago I made a batch of oatmeal cookies for company and I think I accidentally used garam masala instead of my usual pumpkin pie spice (this might be why my husband keeps asking me to label our spice jars). Also used dried cranberries because I had no raisins, that part I’m certain of. The spice mix-up though? I’m not positive I did so, but pretty sure. If I’m correct in recollection, those oatmeal cranberry garam masala cookies were the most incredibly flavored cookie we’ve ever tasted. You can’t beat the aromatics of garam masala. If I’m wrong though, because I was distracted while baking alongside a houseful of company, then I have no idea what I did and make no promises. But it’s something to think about if you’re feeling brave and experimental with your baking this autumn.
Sometime in mid-summer I noticed our cilantro was desperate to bolt, and per usual, tomatoes were nowhere near ready for harvest. This is an annual occurrence, an area of my life where I do not seem to live and learn. I think the pinnacle of life as a gardener will be remembering to succession plant our cilantro. Then I’ll be living the dream. For now though, I experimented with harvesting that cilantro, covering it with a measured amount of apple cider vinegar, and froze it for September salsa making. But when it was finally time to make our first round of salsa, I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t use the frozen goods. Sure, I’ll be practical and use it up with our second or third batch, but for the first go I just wanted to get my hands on some fresh cilantro. So I went to the coop and sure enough, fresh looking bouquets of the herb awaited, grown by farmers much smarter than me. I grabbed a big bunch, some raw milk, and a case of jars, then headed to the register. Put my wares down and as I was cashing out, Brian, the farmer who grew the cilantro, came up behind me with his own purchase: one big bag of tortilla chips. That was it. I found such humor in the serendipitous moment of me trucking to the coop for cilantro to make salsa, and the farmer himself next in line, looking to purchase nothing but the perfect salsa delivery vehicle. I love moments like this. On my way out the door there was a stack of Rebecca Solnit’s, A Paradise Built in Hell, free for the taking. It’s been on my TBR list for ages, so I gratefully tossed a copy into my bag. Then I went home and made salsa with Brian's cilantro, pondering what the world might be like if everyone could purchase groceries with their farmer standing in line beside them.