I've had lots of posts running through my head the past few days. I just haven't had an opportunity to get to the computer, so who knows what will come out in this post. I'll just start and see where we end up, which is not my style at all for those of you who know me well enough to realize that I always need a plan. Anyway, here we go.
M is out of town for the second week in a row. I finally took advantage of that and made a recipe that I've been clinging to for over a year now. Broccoli with Black Beans and Garlic. Holy easy, and holy yum all at the same time. I served it over brown rice, and I'll gladly email the recipe to anyone who is interested. You can also add red peppers to the mix, but they aren't in season, and all the ones at the store demonstrated that fact quite forcefully.
Speaking of things being in season...I've been reading Animal, Vegetable, Miracle. It's really, really good so far. My friend P (you know, the Mosaic guy) gave it to me as a going away gift when we left Kentucky. It isn't really helping my crazy urge to start digging up my yard and filling it with vegetable plants, but that's okay with me. Anyway, it's about a family that moved to a farm in an effort to eat locally. I know you've all read of other people doing the same. It's amazing to me that they are just able to say, "sorry, no fruit until June" (or whenever) to their kids because they can't find it in their county. They are forced to eat only items that are in season because, let's face it, red peppers don't grow in Appalachia in March. It's a really good book, and it makes me think a little harder about the giant container of baby spinach in my fridge. The one that had to be trucked in from California. The upside to the baby spinach problem is that I should be able to get it fairly soon at the farmer's market here, and I'm already wondering if it's too late for me to get some into the ground on my own. I guess we'll see. Gardening is the one activity in my life (besides motherhood) that I go into knowing that I'll have to learn as I go. Plans be damned.
I know that I already make conscious decisions about trying to eat in season. I refused to let S try peaches last summer until the good ones came in. Why get her started on less than the best, right? I also refuse to let her try strawberries until good ones arrive. (Scarlet Lily, the ones I eagerly scooped up at the farmer's market the other day did not fit that bill. Most were ruined by the time I got home!) I understand seasonality with most produce. It explains why I start dreaming of cherries in late April and early May. I am one seriously happy girl when they finally start showing up in June. Seriously. Happy. It explains why my family eats apples in everything in the fall. Somehow, though, seasonality seems to only apply to fruits with us. I mean, am I only supposed to eat salads in the transitional months when I could grow it myself? I guess so. It's a hard pill to swallow, and I somehow doubt that the P family will be going totally local ever. Besides, I dare you to try to deny my daughter her morning banana. I dare you. Stick your tongue to a flagpole dare you.
Enough about that. The stream of thoughts is woefully incomplete.
Besides, it's more important to let you all know that S is getting her one-year molars, and it is not a fun experience. For any of you out there with the this lovely milestone ahead, keep the Tylenol handy. It's just pitiful. Send my girl lots of happy, popsicle-filled thoughts. She needs them right now. One came through yesterday, and as she was actually able to sleep most of the night last night, and I am thinking that maybe, mercifully, the second popped through as well. Fingers crossed.
Alright, I am off. This post is as ridiculously random as I feared it would be. That's all I've got for now, though.
Happy Hump Day, peeps.