If only she knew that Hubby dared to cross two different sauces, thus ruining Kaukab’s stuffed squash recipe–cooked by yours truly.
Kaukab’s daughter was minding her business, talking on the telephone with Kaukab’s first-born daughter, when the violation occurred. The infraction wasn’t anything monumental in terms of national security. However, on Kaukab’s homefront, sauces belong to their own designated dishes. Each sauce has its own flavor qualities–something of which Hubby’s iron-clad stomach is ignorantly unaware.
Talk turned to the various commentary Kaukab would have flung toward her daughters, if she’d gotten word of such matters. Nevermind that it wasn’t committed by her well-taught daughters. In Kaukab’s mindset, husbands are always dependent upon her daughters’ abilities to instruct and monitor. And, this daughter had quietly failed.
Was Hubby concerned about the ramifications–sure to roll in like a big thunder cloud?
Would you be, if you were Kaukab’s favorite?
Seems I didn’t need to make that little trip to the Market, afterall.
.000001% carbon footprint
Thanks to my neighbor. She’s the one-in-the-same bread school lady you met here earlier. I didn’t even have to make all nice-y-nice about how wonderful her tomatoes were coming along. She just offered them up. No strings. The best kind of “free.”
Pssst. I feel I should tell you that this picture was chosen among several, not so much that it was the best one, but because it was the only one that didn’t show all the various food stuff remnants adhered to the counter.
Someone’s gotta look out for Kaukab’s daughter.
Just like the Beatles. Dinner tonight was made possible by friends like you. Specifically, Lilly. Camping extraordinaire. Master gardener. A proud “green” card-carrying planter of eggplants and arugula–among many, many other vegetation. Oh, and best of all…pesto maker. Arugula, to amp up the specificness.
So, tonight, roasted eggplants and arugula pesto pasta sported this mother’s table. Check it out:
If only I had been more productive today and swung by my Farmers’ Market to pick up some fresh tomatoes.
Here I am again. Feeling uninspired. Deflated, really.
I don’t know what to make of it.
Maybe, the nearly 2 dozen-worth of terribly tough corn I had cooked earlier in the week and kept until today (hoping it would magically turn into the sweet, tender stuff that its vendor is consistently known for) contributed to my table’s fate.
Maybe, the roasted farm produce have become tiresome to this cook’s late-summer tastebuds.
And, maybe…just maybe, this late-summer cook is ready for next season’s bounty, next season’s tastebuds.
Hurry up, Fall. My table is waiting.
The past weekend was spent camping with Hubby, my childhood friend, Lilly, and her hubby, Sean, near Lake Erie. All but Hubby had grown up within walking distance to the Lake. But, our camping weekend took us further west along the Great lake to a small town I hadn’t been to since I was an adolescent, where we’d spend summer weekends at a neighbor- family’s lakeside cottage.
Lake Erie was our ocean–with seagulls, lighthouses, and a horizon which reached out to an unsuspecting Canada coastline.
But back to camping. More importantly…camp food.
Now, I figured that camping meant generic camp food–all cooked in iron-cast skillets atop a campfire. We would feast on hotdogs and beans. Eggs and potatoes. Maybe some grilled corn-on-the-cob, if we were feeling extravagant. But I was pleasantly surprised when Lilly hit me up with several phone calls (I don’t subscribe to facebook–please don’t hate) relating her menu ideas. “Camping has a menu?” I thought. Apparently, camping in Century 21 requires of its campers the desire to Martha Stewart the entire experience: from dressing a picnic table with a nostalgic checkered tablecloth, laden with sweet-smelling candles and a napkin and cutlery caddie to creating a full-out bistro-style eatery, boistered by all the farm-and garden-fresh produce we’ve come to expect.
So, instead of skillet eggs and potatoes for breakfast, we had this:
Lilly's Breakfast Platter
This picture captures the essence of Kaukab’s influence on Lilly. Look at her hands. They’re telling you, “Look what I make for you. Come, eat!”
Even when you think she’s not around; she’s around.