Neck is tight, stomach tight, Brazilian music playing in the backround, the bottle of wine is still half-full (and in the fridge) and the curry juices will soak into the plastic container, overnight in the fridge,
but I know that
baking soda deodorizes,
keeps money in your wallet. I have less money in my wallet, since I...
since I paid the Maine excise tax on my car, Pepper (she's a red hot Jetta),
and you don't even want to know! how much they charge here.
Maybe I should move to Florida?
Where the oranges grow on mailboxes, I hear, and the registration is like, what, like,
like like six dollars TOTAL?!
That's more like olive loaf. Meaning:
disgusting. Florida disgusts me. But they have nice birds I hear,
maybe even Flamingos.
Ah, oy vey. Curry paste and garlic smeared together in my skillet tonight,
slivers of onions all browned up and sliding, like a slip of skin off a snake,
but better. No butter. No no no dairy at all, in tonight's dinner.
Dad, did you know that we don't have those right enzymes to digest
cow's milk, after age two, and, ha,
technically maybe I think that all of us are slightly, ahem
Milk's spilled from the jar now. Sorry.
But the "dhal" I made, just lentils cooked with onion and garlic and ginger and olive oil,
poured from a bottle--well afterwards, tonight on the reheat I diced up sharp cheddar cheese,
stirred it on in. I British-ized it in that sense, and the cheese melted only slightly
into pockets of warm, biting cubes of melty glory.
Ahh, yes, cheese has power. Long live cheddar and Wensleydale and Gorgonzola and goat logs,
even if they do cost more at the grocery.
My recent food successes?
Well, they don't include--you will forgive me for this, readers--snapshots. Those food blogs outdo me.
Just think of this: an old snapping turtle that's paused mid-bite and it's right in front of your face and you can see the breath
come from his nostrils--well, the breath would be the steam off my curry,
if I'd taken a picture, but I didn't.
I actually sorta lost my camera. Momentarily of course. Meanwhile I'll just
...eat the food.
This week at the Common Good: Lentil Rosemary Soup, (veganized) goodness, on your tongue,
on their tongues, even if they did prefer the pumpkin pear soup with ginger,
courtesy of Colleen. And my mother, she kicked in too. I used her recipe for
Cheddar Corn Chowder, with tweakings, and guessing a bit,
and we pushed turkey in at the end, since people like meat.
I had a five minute discussion this week with a member at the YMCA, who said he taught
and he lifeguards at the national park all summer, head lifeguard, and then he said how
he can't stand vegetables.
And I remember how I used to push peas to one side of my partitioned,
plastic blue plate,
and my mom would say "once you've finished half your plate, you can be dismissed,"
and so I crammed it off to one side, those dang green peas were like snakes eyeballs.
I hate snakes.
But she let me leave the table.
I must still feel guilty. I do like peas now, really I do.
This is just a bit of silliness, really.