Friday, September 17, 2010

'Mater Matters

It took until the end of August and into September for the tomatoes to really start to ripen well this year. But ripen they finally did, I am here to report.


'maters and the purple beans. Grew these beans from seed my neighbor Ren saved. She didn't get many purple beans, but got the purple speckled "neighbor beans" from seed I saved. So we both had neighbor beans.




I was picking a basket this size about every four days for the three weeks before I left CA.










Real slicin' 'maters - big red "Mortgage Lifters", yellow "Purple Smudge" and little but tasty "Black Brandywine". The salsa was great for breakfast with local eggs, avocado and corn tortillas.

Fabulous just to look at in the afternoon kitchen light.


I ate as many as I could, gave some away (that double-sized "Big Yellow Oxheart" in the top picture went to my son and daughter in law in San Francisco, where the garden tomatoes didn't quite make it this year), and made several batches of baked tomato sauce. Couldn't be easier: olive oil the 9/12 glass dish, cut tomatoes in quarters, put in dish with several un-peeled cloves of garlic, bake at 350 for 1/2 hour and then leave in the warm oven overnight. Presto: tomato sauce to freeze. (I squeeze the garlic cloves out of their skins into the sauce after it is done and take out some of the tomato skins.)


They were still comin on pretty strong, so I had to pack these up in a big plastic container and bring them with me in my carry on when I flew over to France. I haven't found this variety of heirloom tomatoes in our fabulous Saturday market in Revel, at least thus far. Can't wait to buy eggs from the sweet farm wives, olives out of a big half barrel, walnut bread with levain nature and local goat cheese and yogurt au marché le matin.

More soon from Soreze.
Bises,
N2

Friday, September 3, 2010

Turn Around

TURN AROUND
Written by: Harry Belafonte, Alan Greene & Malvina Reynolds

Where are you going
My little one, little one
Where are you going
My baby, my own


I know, it is past time for some pictures of the Grand Boy.

I was talking to a friend this morning about pictures of the boy and the blog and realized what has been keeping me from writing a new post about the boy: talking about him just makes me sadder that he has moved back to Brooklyn =,o}... Well, there. It's out.

So, here's a couple from just before they left...




















Turn around and you’re two
Turn around and you’re four
Turn around and you’re a young boy
Going out of the door

He'd just started being interested in food. With a vengeance! When we gave him his first bite of white Babcock peach (picture on the left), well suck really, since he doesn't even have a tooth nub yet, he didn't stop gnawing until all the juice was gone, then wiggled and skooched in a demand for more.



Turn around and you’re tiny
Turn around and you’re grown
Turn around and you’re a young wife
With babes of your own

Turn around, turn around
Turn around and you’re a young wife
With babes of your own











We took him up to the Eel River at the beginning of August to stay in a cabin we have been renting for a few days each summer since his mom, the Dear Daughter, was nine months old.

He sussed out that leaves floating on water thing, got to sit at the campfire one night while he fell asleep in his mama's arms, and got to chomp on some ambrosia melon and suck up a ripe apricot. Some Fun!




















Hey, Mom! Don't take a picture, my face is all mushy.



My dear friend LC was up at the Eel River with us this year. She captured this family portrait.
And this one of me and the Corn Tiger.

I feel those little lips on my neck every time I look at it.

Turn around and they’re young
Turn around and they’re old
Turn around and they’re gone
And we’ve no one to hold

Turn around, turn around
Turn around and they’re gone
And we’ve no one to hold

This may all seem like just so much bathos, but that is just how I'm feeling about the boy these days when I get out the pictures, i.e. not sure whether to laugh or cry.

More soon.
Love for now.
x0
N2
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