As Chris Matthews would say, "HA!"

Hat Tip to whoever I stole this from at Kos.

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is reading the Anchorage Daily News. The top story? 'Troopergate' inquiry lurks for Palin. The second? Guide likely saved bear attack victim's life.

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1. Grow a metric shit ton of tomatoes.

2. Suffer through three consecutive days of 100+ degree heat in an area of the US that is just simply not equipped for that kind of bullshit.

3. Watch as 10% of your metric shit ton of tomatoes begin to turn red.

4. Follow three consecutive days of 100+ degree heat with three consecutive days of motherfucking rain in an area of the US that IS equipped for that kind of bullshit, but doesn't necessarily welcome it this time of year.

5. Watch as your red tomatoes begin to split because of too much motherfucking rain.

6. Freak out. Pull all red tomatoes from plants.

7. Peel and seed tomatoes. Chop and combine with olive oil, garlic, wine and basil. Simmer for about 15 minutes.

8. Observe how 10% of a metric shit ton of tomatoes is reduced to about 32 ounces of tomato sauce.

9. Fill two whole pints with sauce. Process at 11 pounds pressure for 15 minutes. Hope the canner doesn't explode.

10. Serve with pasta.

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Rustic Bread: Food Processor Edition v.1 is in the midst of its first rise, despite the fact that I thought I killed the yeast. Instant yeast doesn't need to be proofed, silly. I know that. I even intended to use active dry (are you sensing a theme here?) but opened the fridge and grabbed the instant anyway. That's some neural pathway shit I can't explain.

The food processor method was actually faster than using a stand mixer, but also somewhat more pain-in-the-ass-ish and involved a level of guessing I wasn't too happy about. So, we'll see how it goes. You may get a not so great photo of a not so great loaf of bread here in the near future.

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I was going to tackle Rustic Bread: Food Processor Edition today, mostly because I suffered an anxiety attack over the idea that anyone with a stand mixer probably already knows how to make bread. And fuck if I'm gonna write by hand instructions because I don't knead by hand, and don't plan to start anytime soon; I'm not a cave woman. In any case, I got sidetracked by backend updates and a much needed trip to the grocery store, and now it's after 3 PM which means with 2 rises it probably won't go into the oven til after 6...See? This is how I wake up intending to do something and wind up somewhere else entirely. But thankfully, I read Scientific American this morning, so I know it's probably not my fault.

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Just finished Juile & Julia; I think I gained 10 pounds just reading about all the butter. Kind of makes me want to pick up a copy of Mastering the Art of French Cooking, except I'm guessing there are maybe 3 things I could eat among all those pages. And heaven knows I couldn't pronounce any of them.

Did I tell you I'm writing a cookbook? Blame it on Kate, it's her fault. But don't tell her I stalled - I accidentally bumped into my writer's block, which I apparently never got rid of the first time I bumped into it a decade ago. I know, how sad is that - they're recipes. How one gets befuddled writing instructions is, I'd like to think, a special skill. Short bus special, maybe, but I'd rather be special than not.

Ok, now I just feel guilty. Back to work...

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I want them all!


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maters:


cucumber:


yeah, I have plums!:


apples:


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Those are some sad little shallots, but it's still a bit early.

PS: Raspberry jam was made today. Still waiting on blueberries (hang on Kate!)

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contemplates the walla wallas...(and is happy to finally be in the sun)


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