Vegas - but without the gambling

In my life I've heard vague rumors about things to do in Vegas other than gambling.

Like a Mall, Big Swimming Pools, Day Spas, Leaving the Strip, etc, but I ignored them because they didn't exist on the green felt of a regulation-sized blackjack table and that is where I've always chosen to spend my Vegas time: knee-deep in a free G&T trying to keep my chips higher on the + than the -.

Until last weekend when The Girls (actual girls, not my boobs or anything) were unexpectedly swapped out from my Girl's Vegas Trip, with Bubba, due to some last minute childcare issues (not mine, obv.).

Which is fine, Bubba and I have done Vegas together before, but that was back when I wasn't willing to release my stranglehold on the Perfect Blackjack table, so the poor man spent the better part of 24 hours trying to not kill me as I continued ordering drinks and kept my ass cheeks firmly planted on the stool.

But this time, with four blissful years of marriage under our belts, I wasn't going to try to force my degenerate lifestyle on him and get him questioning why it is that I, Woman of Perpetual Double-Down, was managing our household finances. I also didn't want to end up in a drunken screaming match at the Paris again, and as we've proven, that is what 22 hours of free cocktails at the card tables will bring about in me.

Mmm...pretty.

So I was faced with the question:

What will I do in Vegas since Bubba doesn't really gamble and I'm afraid he'll leave me after my typical 36 hour blackjack tour where I lose my face in a glass of gin and gamble away our flight home?

Also, my quiet inside question was what if I find myself in Vegas pretending to have fun doing those other aforementioned activities that are not gambling while thinking, why am I even in Vegas if I'm not going to gamble?

I imagined a lot of unconvincing half-smiling on my part while I agreed to some benign activity and choked out the words, "No way! This is WAY better than playing blackjack for a day and a half!" while I secretly wished I was the blazingly drunk and rotund she-beast at the $25 table splitting 10s like an imbecile and pissing everyone off.

That is the most shameful scenario, after all, where all disgusting and abhorrent traits aside, that woman would be happily playing cards and I'd be, like, appreciating art at some fruity gallery or something. And hating myself.

Thankfully nothing at all like this happened. In fact, I had quite a nice little weekend. Not a Vegas Weekend, really, but a nice weekend nonetheless.

We went out to dinner with friends (who live there). We trolled the pool looking at weirdos. We ate at some very nice restaurants in nice clothes that weren't stained with vomit or alcohol. I had a massage and pedicure which inspired rapture. Bubba climbed on some very hot rocks far away from the strip.

It was pleasant and relaxing.

Oh. I didn't know you could do pleasant and relaxing there.

But that is what's getting at me.

Shouldn't I be feeling all ripped off for not spending 36 hours getting to know the Wynn blackjack dealers by their first name and hometown?

Shouldn't I be entertaining my coworkers with debaucherous stories of money inexplicably lost and 4am hair holding?

Shouldn't I still be hungover?

And because I'm not doing any of these things, does that mean that I'm *gasp* not cool anymore?

Yes. I'm pretty sure that's what it means. Because I spent the weekend feeling embarrassed for the drunk chick at the "European" pool who had no business cavorting about with her top off. Because I felt sad for the she-beast giving away her hard-earned dough to the card dealer. Because I was ashamed of the vomit covered club queen wobbling her way toward the elevators at 9am.

Because in Vegas (Note: this applies only to the strip, I realize normal people live in the town. Like our friends for instance. They are very nice and normal.) I think cool means out of your mind and I was mostly in my mind the whole time. At least in the sense that I was vomit-free and wearing the appropriate amount of clothes during my stay.

Notice, however, that I did not say that I was saving my pennies. No no. That is something that happens regardless of whether you're gambling because, tee dah, nothing there is free.

In fact, I could even make a case for gambling being a cost-saving measure in that town. Between the dinners out and the spa treatments and the, ahem, pool bar bill, I would likely have saved money (or perhaps made money? One can dream.) by sitting my posh butt at the tables rather than having it massaged by a shawl wearing brute from the hotel spa.

So rather than admit fully to the fact that I'm becoming a true old hag far from her crazy fancy-free youth, I'm going to test this theory of cost-savings during another upcoming Vegas trip by sitting with The Girls (rescheduled with the adequate amount of childcare) at a blackjack table and not leaving in the name of science.

Then we'll see who's cool and who's old and who has had one too many G&Ts.

Oh, and we'll get back to the garden and the food and the other stuff in future posts this week. Fret not ye of innocent minds.

Grow Your Own Round-up #14

Why hello, Grow Your Own'rs!

Look right at me hosting the round up this week. And without any direct supervision! SKETCHY!

I assume Andrea, the proud creator and mama of Grow Your Own, was familiar with my particular style before letting me in on this showdown, so let's proceed as planned and hope that I don't return her baby singing any new swears or anything.

A recipe for: Overabundance

Kristin of Going Country did not make garlic soup as promised, but I forgave her because she made a delicious stream of consciousness that included 2 recipes and 8, count 'em 8, ingredients from her upstate NY garden that she Grew all on her Own: garlic, shallots, tomatoes, collard greens, basil, cucumbers, dill.

Random detail: Kristin has 34 tomato plants and is my hero.

A recipe for: Tomatoes, peppers, herbs

Natashya of Living in the Kitchen with Puppies is taking full advantage of the early heat this year in Ontario, Canada by plucking tomatoes and hot peppers from the garden two full weeks early and putting them into an Easy Peasy Summer Pasta. When you're over there ripping this great recipe, also look at the porny food shot of tomatoes and peppers which, wow, nicely done. She's growing this all in pots, y'all. That's really something.

A recipe for: Lemons

Anna at Life's Too Short for Mediocre Chocolate made up some Lemon Ricotta muffins that have a reported incredible crumb and AND two different mixing methods. Um, fancy. I do believe I still have access to my friend's overburdened lemon tree so will, perhaps, have to make these up myself - just to try out both mixing methods, you know.

A recipe for: White peaches

As though a magnificent trip to Yosemite weren't enough, Todd and Diane of White on Rice Couple posted a recipe for all their oh lawdie what WILL we do incredible white peaches that involves grilling AND homemade creme fraiche. And I'm sorry but I can't make blogger do those fancy marks over the e and i, so please forgive me. Feel free to look at this recipe and be jealous of their white peach tree because, wow. If this photo isn't enough to make you want to plant one of your own, I'm pretty sure you're not human. Oh that California, she is a nice place.

A recipe for: Squash

Arika, of Raw for a Month in Biloxi, Missisippi, must be answering someone's Grow Your Own prayers here with her very delicious sounding recipe for Squash Rollatini with Ricotta, Mozzarella, and Chevre. Now, I know I've been whining about what do I do with all this chard but the original summer vegetable of doom is squash and so I'm grateful that she's put together a recipe for squash that is new (for instance, it's not mock anything) and includes chevre, which, YUM. You are wise in the ways of the squash, Ms. Arika.

A recipe for: Green tomatoes

If you're loosing sleep waiting for your tomatoes to ripen (I can't be the only one that does this) then you'll be glad that Irene at Cinnamon Spice & Everything Nice defied her Italian-American and New York roots and forged ahead with a southern-type recipe for fried green tomatoes. From the YUMMY sounds I could hear in the background of her post (so they were in my head? Does that matter?) it seems like she's nailed it with, as she calls it, Fried Green Tomato And Swiss Cheese Bake. I do believe she might have also said something about how she now prefers green tomatoes to fully ripe red tomatoes, but I must be mistaken. That's just crazy talk.

A recipe for: Cilantro and lemongrass

I am pretty sure that this recipe from Ning, of Heart and Hearth, made the longest trip to Grow Your Own this week - all the way from the Philippines! Manila, to be exact. WOW. And even after all that travel, everything in this dish looks so fresh. How DO you do it, Ning? All joking aside, she's come up with a great recipe for Pinoy Tom Yum Prawns (Pinoy meaning Filipino) that's a little lighter on the spice than its Thai alter ego and uses lemongrass and cilantro from her own balcony garden. For anyone out there trying to stay ahead of their bolting cilantro - this could be a great recipe to try. If only Bubba weren't wildly allergic to shellfish, I'd try this myself.

A recipe for: Peaches, pineapple sage

Bee and Jai of Jugalbandi have searched the world over for a pie/tart crust that doesn't leave a greasy feel in the mouth and, at the same time, crafted a sweet recipe for an abundance of peaches and pineapple sage from their yard and their friend's orchard in the Pacific northwest. Now, I personally have never met a pie crust I didn't like, but for the more discerning tastes out there, their recipe for Vegan Peach tartlets with pineapple sage might do it for you. You big picky pie eaters, you. Not that I'm judging. I'm just saying is all.

A recipe for: Tomatoes and parsley

The Andrea, of Andrea's Recipes, likes to admit that she's not superwoman (whatever) and, as such, has been trying to simplify her family's menu without calling in for reinforcements from the local pizza joint. Um, yeah, me too, ahem. This time she picked a huge bowl of grape tomatoes from her Virginia/D.C. garden and tossed them up with some orzo and fresh parsley (and other things, check the recipe, I'm not exact here) for a very lovely Mediterranean Orzo Salad. Yes, please! (But I'm still not giving up pizza night.)

A recipe for: Lot of ripe tomatoes

Kim of Live Love Laugh Eat! offers up a great pasta recipe and her preferred vehicle for taking in as much pesto (use your favorite recipe here) as possible in each bite. Her Virginia garden is overflowing with tomatoes right now and this is a quick way to get through a handful. Nice and simple, this could be a good recipe for those of you like Andrea who, while trying to maintain the whole "I'm not superwoman/man" facade, still want to make fabulous meals from local homegrown foods. You know who you are, Pizza Man Shunners. Plus, this is a great excuse to wander out to the garden after work and hunt around the tomato plants in your heels. Because, obviously, we all like to look sexy while we pick fruit. What? You don't?

A recipe for: Tomatoes and basil

I have half a brain and almost didn't include my own contribution to Grow Your Own #14. Wow, that'd been just like me, wouldn't it? *Sigh* Anyway, I stepped away from the oven for five minutes to make something other than my favorite sauce recipe and instead made gazpacho - another summer Northern California tomato favorite. As usual, I shunned the perfectly decent (and published, which is more than I can say for moi) recipe details and changed it to suit my own whims. This soup has gotten better by the day, so don't worry if you have left overs. I've also heard rumors that it freezes beautifully. You decide.

And that will do it for this Grow Your Own Round-Up. Check out Andrea's blog for future post dates and hosts. Plus, it'd be good if you kept making things from your gardens (and neighbor's gardens - go on, I won't tell them you're stealing lemons from their tree) and posting recipes because some of us need help figuring out what to do with all this chard. Or whatever.

Something other than sauce

It is possible for me to make something from my tomatoes other than The Best Sauce Ever. Yep. and I thought it might be high time that I provide proof of that fact.

And, frankly, I need to post something for the Grow Your Own round-up I'm hosting (send me your entries by tomorrow midnight please: finnyknits AT gmail DOT com) because I don't get out of contributing just because I'm *phew* totally slaving away over here on the big sweaty post.

Just kidding, I'm barely sweating at all (wuv you, free work A/C!).

So, to prove that I can imagine tomato-based foods other than sauce and SAUCE and more sauce, I made gazpacho. Which I realize doesn't really go too far toward proving how dynamic I can be with a bunch of homegrown tomatoes, but still - it's not technically sauce, so I'm counting it. Argue with me if you want, but I promise it will be totally fruitless.

I also fight dirty, so watch your groin.

Anyhoo, I also got to try out a new recipe from a cookbook I had yet to crack, You Say Tomato by Joanne Weir, which was a gift from my all-knowing MIL who is nothing short of a gift giving genius.

To go off-track for just one minute, let me tell you that this woman has a secret spy living in my brain and reporting back to her on gift ideas. Do you know how I know? Because it's alarming to open gifts from this woman due to their dead-on-ness.

An orange wallet?
Worms Eat My Garbage?
3 tomato-specific cookbooks?
A book on foraging in Northern California?

Seriously. Yikes.

Thankfully, I like her very much and haven't seen even a glimmer of "I will murder you in your sleep and wear your skin" in her gentle eyes, so I feel safe. But still. Weird. I might have to start imagining bizarre gifts to see if they show up on my birthday - just to see if she really does have a spy in my brain.

Sue...what am I thinking about right now? Why yes, you're right, it IS something made of cashmere...

ANYWAY.

Gazpacho

You Say Tomato, Joanne Weir
My changes in bold

Ingredients

6 large tomatoes from your garden, peeled/seeded/chopped (I didn't seed them, this is too much work - the straining gets them out later)
1 red bell pepper, cored/seeded/chopped
1 yellow onion, chopped
1 cucumber, peeled/halved/seeded/chopped
3 cloves of garlic, minced
1/3 cup white wine vinegar
Some extra virgins, about 4+ tablespoons
1 slice of french bread
Salt, pepper and pepperoncino to taste

To make
Mix the tomatoes, bell pepper, onion, cucumber, garlic, vinegar and olive oil in a bowl. In batches, puree the mixture in the blender until super smooth - which is a purported 3 minutes. I just go until I can't stand the noise anymore. Have I told you I'm a sissy?

Pour each batch through a course strainer into a large bowl until you've pureed your whole mixture. Season the whole mess with salt, pepper and pepperoncino. Refrige it for an hour or more. And not more than eight hours because something mysterious and terrible happens after that. I would imagine.

Once you've crossed the important 1 hour - 8 hour threshold, feel free to serve up with some fresh basil even though the recipe doesn't call for it, but HELLO what tomato-type recipe isn't awesome with basil? Um, none.

Something to note here is that the original recipe, which I unabashedly ignored, also includes some super time intensive recipe for a "garnish" which I like to also call "croutons" and there was no way in hell I was making their "garnish croutons" with this crazy ass recipe, so I made them the way I always make them which involved cutting crusty bread into cubes and tossing with olive oil and garlic salt - bake at 400 until brown and DONE.

The recipe in the book is a little more ridiculous and involves melting things in a saucepan which was so not happening.

Also, here's the tomatoes after I peeled them properly:

I want to show you this for two reasons.

1. I finally learned that blanching includes a cold water bath BEFORE peeling, which has changed my life immensely and helped me to retain my fingerprints and,
   
2. I took this photo and felt the need to share it. I mean, look how SHINY they are? That's fun.

Ok, so SEE, I can make things other than sauce with my homegrown tomatoes. I don't really LIKE to, but I suppose I should be seeking some sort of balance in my life and this is how I'm going at it.

I'm not going to stop eating tomato sauce out of the food processor with my big tablespoon, but I will try to make other things from the tomatoes. Things that I can eat with my big tablespoon also.

Do you see my balance? I am amazing.

Status of my melons + Running update

I had no idea that people (other than Bubba) had any interest in the status of my melons, but given the comments yesterday and some interesting emails, I feel compelled to provide a status on my melons. All my melons - on the vine and on the bod.

We share openly around here, folks. (But don't get any ideas.)

It also gives me a good segue for a Running Update, which is long overdue given that I haven't stopped running or training for my #2 half marathon in October even though I've stopped talking about it, which isn't like me at all. I like to chat, that much is obvious, and when the chatter stops, it's time to worry.

And so, in the name of decency (or at least my warped interpretation of it, anyway) I will begin with a status of the melons on the vine.

Midget Melons
Status: Firm, growing and, it would appear - reborn.


There was a time during this growing season when I was preparing myself to write off an entire bed of vegetables. It wasn't a pretty time because it involved a lot of me putting on my favorite garden gloves twice (or more) a day so that I could go smash the shit out of the squash bugs invading my vegetables in bed #2.

The Ronde de Italia squash that I so blindly purchased in lieu of the eight ball squash I really wanted was, as it turned out, something of a violent mistake. Not to say that the eight ball squash wouldn't have incurred the same hellish onslaught of bugs, but it's not there to prove me wrong, so I'm choosing to blame the runner-up Ronde de Italia squash that most certainly did invite the squash bugs to come live next to my precious melons and cucumbers.

When the stupid squash went in, a whole colony of bastard bugs came charging out of the shadows and went TO WORK on moving into the squash plant and also destroying everything in its path. And in its path was the Midget Melon plant I was so excited to have growing. All small and with its promised compact habit and CUTE single-serving sized melons.

COME ON THAT IS CUTE.

Of course, the bugs went to work right on the melons and when I wanted to save them, I consulted my Rodale's guide to find that the only organic methods for handling squash bugs is to either treat the soil with neem before planting (too late) OR hand pick the bugs off the plants.

Gross.


This is when I admit to going quietly insane and hijacking a pair of needlenose pliers from Bubba's rolling tool chest because they were just the right long skinny size to sneak between the vines and PLUCK CRUNCH the squash bugs to death before they could annoyingly scurry away underneath the giant plant.

And so, like some kind of criminal lunatic, I collected myself a big plastic tub of squash bug carcasses in the name of the Midget Melon. I did not, however, make myself a suit from their skins, so I feel like that redeems me in the eyes of normal people. Just say that it does, k.

Then I pulled the squash plant out (suckah!), trained the volunteer tomato plant growing behind it onto a post and set about the task of reviving the forlorn little melon plant.

The first thing I did was cut off the one melon that had lived through the invasion so that the plant could put some effort into producing the other little sprouts. Then I watched the whole plant crispify in the newly discovered sunshine after having spent its younger months in the shade of the Squash Plant of Doom. Then I went about ritualistically KER-SMASHING every tiny squash bug baby that had the gall to present itself to me while I was wearing gloves.

I hold a grudge against bugs. This is a personal flaw.

Then I went on vacation, and upon my return - TEE DAH - there were SIX new melons just lying there all happy growing like it's what they were born to do. Well, then.

And just to show them how much I loved them, I put them up on pedestals. Recycled ones made from the bottom of my sparkling water bottles, so that no soil-livers would gnaw into their sweet flesh.


After all this, it looks like they might live to produce more melons and that makes me exceedingly happy even though I know that by putting this in writing that some awful fate is going to befall my melons and I will be back here crying about it soon enough.

Lady Melons (and Running Update)
Status: Sorely disappointed with my choice for the morning's run

I did not take a picture of my lady melons because that would be porny, and while I'm not always a perfect lady ahem I don't typically go around showing off my lady parts. That'd be weird.

However, I revisited an old theme this morning that has never, NOT ONCE, resulted in a positive experience. And yet, I continue trying.

See, there's this thing I have to do when I run called doubling up on the um support. Meaning that while I wear a running top with one of those shelf bra things in it, I am also wearing a sports bra.

I think this is normal, so don't try to tell me otherwise.

This is so that the lady melons don't get to jiggling all over the place and I can focus on running instead of managing the puppies bouncing around in my top. My goal is to have a 100% jiggle free run and usually the doubling up does the trick. I haven't messed with my strategy since I began training for actual races (instead of running randomly around my neighborhood) so it's kind of bizarre that this morning, at 6am, I decided today was the day to revisit my old stupid idea that HEY, I don't need a sports bra with this top - I'll just go freely out into the world with just this running top and it's supportive shelf bra.

Uh-huh, no.

While I managed to finish my little 3 mile training run in record time (00:25:00), I believe we can attribute my speed to discomfort rather than stamina.

I literally raced home so that I could end the pain and jiggling which was, in a word, obscene. I just hope that my elderly neighbors didn't see me because sometimes they're outside at that hour patrolling the neighborhood via Rascal and reprimanding people who don't pick up after their pooping dogs.

We love them and need them on our side. So, if I become the neighborhood Booby Lady, they might stop enforcing their you better pick that shit up rule in front of our house.

As for the Running part of this Update - I'm still running and training for the half in October, but I haven't gone beyond 9 miles on my long run yet and my knees are starting to get sore at an hour flat. And while that isn't the best news ever, I am still planning to go for 10 when we get back from Vegas this weekend (which is a whole other OTHER story) and I'm considering some new cushy insoles so if you have any suggestions for insoles or other miraculous ways I can stave off crippling sore knees, I'd love to hear it.

Until then, I'll be going back to the two sports bra method for the lady melons, watching for bugs on the Midget Melons and attempting to redeem myself with some other posts this week that don't involve my boobs.

Hey, you asked.

My Associated Content article on the subject of sports bras.

Hermits do it in the can

After every vacation, even the ones we go on where we hide out in a jungle and see barely more than a monkey or the inexplicable armadillo, we come home and immediately have a NO PEOPLE weekend.

See, y'all, despite childhood report cards indicating my extreme social behavior and Bubba's super friendly outwardly appearance, we are really just big hermits.

We like to be in our house (which also includes the backyard surrounded by an 8ft fence, thank you) with just each other and the creatures and no one telling us what to do or when are you having kids or hey can we borrow your welding equipment or whatever.

Frankly, going out to lunch (which we love to do even when we have food at home - don't tell my mom) becomes a flee-worthy event because of the stressful human interaction that happens when the dude asks us what we want to drink with our carne asada tacos.

STOP PRESSURING ME!

It's not an official thing, where we press our palms together in solidarity on Thursday night and declare Friday through Sunday a NO PEOPLE WEEKEND, but it might as well be for the amount of socializing we do.

Sometimes I get self-conscious about the fact that it seems like everyone else in the whole wide world wants nothing more than to spend every free waking moment surrounded by other people doing things outside their homes despite the amount of hassle, travel and logistics involved. And then these same people come racing in to work on Monday morning to share with me their breathless accounts of the three bridal showers, two weddings, seven cocktail hours, family bbq and neighborhood block party they enthusiastically attended in between which they shopped for their fall wardrobe and painted the house.

REALLY? And you didn't throw yourself from the roof and/or barricade yourself in the basement?

Me, I get anxious when my weekend is predicted to hold more than one social occasion. And for me, a social occasion is any event outside my home that involves a person other than Bubba and an unexpected return time.

I don't know when I became this way, but it would appear that I'm growing into something of a magnificent hermit and with my 3-0 birthday only a few short weeks away (vomit), I'm no longer going to be able to use my youth to disguise my true identity: Old Hermit Woman.

This is another reason why no more cats.

So whether this post is really about how Bubba and I are hermits or how I'm going to be old soon or why Rocket will likely be the last feline to grace our doorstep, I'm not sure, but what I am sure about is that this Old Hermit Gal will probably eat pretty well even if she decides she can no longer handle the intense questioning of the taco dude because being a hermit means there's lots of time to work in the garden and then can some vegetables.

Because there's nothing that says Young and Vibrant like canning vegetables.

For the record, no, I am NOT sure that I'm not really turning 80. Thank you for pointing that out.

So, during our unofficial but legitimate nonetheless NO PEOPLE weekend, I did some successful canning of two crops going slowly out of control in the garden: cucumbers and tomatoes.

For the purposes of this post, though, I'll just be covering the tomatoes because I have to have something good to report about the cucumbers in the Adopt a Crop post and I suspect people are bored of hearing about the status of my melons - as inexplicable as that may seem.

So the situation with the tomatoes is this, there aren't enough.

We have two very full and healthy and productive plants, which is the same amount we've had for years and by which we've been satisfied if not overwhelmed, and yet it would seem that we've found so many ways to use them that two plants are no longer enough.

We are tomato whores.

So, this weekend's activity was to pick and can as many tomatoes as possible so that when tomato season is over *tears* we will still have tomatoes for sauce and chili and sauce. And did I mention sauce? We make a lot of sauce. It's a food group over here.

And the anxiety about oh my god are we going to have enough tomatoes to can because they're so good we've been eating them at every meal and the need to harvest and can them For Winter when we are destitute of tomatoes had become very real and a little chest-pain inducing.

We are also a little dramatic.

Saturday morning my basket and I harvested these:


And then we, quick like a cat, raced into the house and peeled them which is much messier and time-intensive than this looks:


After which , I (the basket took a nap) ran the canner at a steady boil for the entire afternoon so that we could have four quarts of tomatoes at the ready For Winter as though we live in the Alaskan interior instead of northern California and are running any risk of food shortages.


At the end of the day I happily reported to Bubba, with no sarcasm in my voice mind you, that we had DON'T WORRY, at least four quarts of tomatoes to see us through until spring. Because you know that I will can more if this next crop really comes through (*hint hint* to the plants, I know they read this) and I'd really feel more comfortable if we had more like eight quarts of tomatoes rather than four. NOT TO BE GREEDY, but really now.

And to that Bubba said, "Wow! That's almost more than last year!" which is an excellent observation because it was exactly the same amount as last year because I learned an important lesson in my canning time since 2007 and that is to STUFF THOSE FUCKERS FULL rather than do it all dainty like and end up with tomatoes floating in juice when they could be tomatoes smushed up against other tomatoes in a lewd way.

To be specific, last year I canned 10 pints of tomatoes loosely and this year (so far - remember, HINT HINT TOMATO PLANTS) I canned 4 quarts TIGHTLY.

Which, if you can do Finny Math, means 10 pints = 5 quarts but if you really smushed the tomatoes in the quart jars (which I so totally did to avoid the floating) it's 4 quarts so TEE DAH - same amount.

And there's more on the vine.

WOO!

OK, I think it's obvious now why I'm destined to be The Old Hermit Woman.

Do you Grow Your Own?

My friends, my people, you big freaks who are getting all WHAT DO I DO WITH ALL THIS SQUASH THAT I GREW WHEN I THOUGHT MY YARD WAS 10X AS BIG, I want you to tell me (and the Internets) what you're doing with all that stuff you're growing.

Or getting from friends who are growing.

Or picking off your neighbor's tree when they're not looking.

Or whatever as long as you or someone close to you is growing or raising it and you're making it into something fantastic (or, something bad, as the case may be - it's OK when things go awry, we all learn and then make fun of you when you're not around).

Come be a part of Grow Your Own, the "blogging event that celebrates the foods we grow or raise ourselves and the dishes we make using our homegrown products. "

I'll be hosting the 8/15 rendition of the event, as Andrea has sought out guest hosts to handle the load of entries (it's wildly popular, dontyouknow), and I want to sit here and fawn over the crazy awesome stuff you're making from the fruits, vegetables, herbs, sprouts, edible flowers, nuts, grains, legumes, dairy products, eggs, livestock, etc that you're bringing into the culinary world.

Why?

Because then maybe I'll figure out what to do with all this fucking chard. Not that you have to submit chard recipes or anything, but I'm hoping a little bit that someone does. I'm considering making clothes from it. Or seeing if I can run the Prius off chard power. Or maybe sewing a quilt from it.

OR SOMETHING.

Really though, here's what you do:

• Make a dish that uses at least one item from your very own garden or farm or neighbor's tree and post about it. Container gardens are welcome! If you hunted or foraged, those items are also eligible. You can also use something that was given to you, but the giver must have personally grown or raised the item. If you paid for it, then it doesn’t count.
• Anything edible that you have grown or raised qualifies, including fruits, vegetables, herbs, sprouts, edible flowers, nuts, grains, legumes, dairy products, eggs, livestock, and anything else I might have forgotten. Produce from both indoor and outdoor gardens are welcome! Different regions will have different things available, so feel free to feature things unique to your area. (Rambutan trees, anyone?) We are all about celebrating variety!
• Please make sure your dish is posted during the month of the event because we like to celebrate seasonal items. One post per blog, please.
• As a courtesy, please include a link to this announcement in your blog post, and then update later with a link to the round-up.
• If you want to include one of the Grow Your Own badges in your post, feel free to grab one here. (Please upload to your own server/image repository.) Logos professionally designed by Jeff Meyers.

And if you want to see what others have done in the past, here's a few of the most recent round-ups:

July
June
May

You may notice that my entries have been mostly about chard, but don't let that sway you.

To include your post in the round-up, send an email to me (finnyknitsATgmailDOTcom) by 8/14/08 with:

• Subject line: Grow Your Own #
• Your name and location (country, state if applicable)
• Your blog URL
• Permalink to your post
• A photo of your dish

On 8/15 I'll post the round up and you can all sit back and relish all the new ways to make chard, I mean, the variety of edibles that folks the world over are Growing on Their Own. Or something close to that.

It'll be fun. You'll like it.

Remember: Send Finny your posts about how you're making that stuff you're growing. Chard or otherwise. finnyknitsATgmailDOTcom.

Wuv you.

The garden was not on vacation + Chard Killer Recipe

When Rocket sees the suitcase open on the bench in our bedroom, she climbs inside and furs up my underwear.

When Jada hears the suitcase rolling over the furnace (we have one in the floor because that's how old our house is, OK) she strolls over to the front door and blocks it with her body.

When the garden hears us shut the door behind us as we wheel our bags to the curb, it goes into full bloom and produces all of its fruit.

Because, apparently, the garden is a pet that's worried we won't come back or something and is trying to make a statement.

When we left for vacation this time (like all times) the garden was, like, almost there in the Ripe Tomato category. And the chard was *almost* under control due to a week of taming it with dinner's side dishes. And the melons were trying to make a valiant come back although I wasn't 100% convinced. And I had picked clean the cucumbers only to find a hundred new little yellow blooms 10 minutes before we left.

Basically, I knew I was going to come home to some pretty full plants.

Which isn't a bad thing given that there are some conditions that certain people suffer after 24+ hours of traveling that are best cured with garden vegetables especially if they are of the leafy green variety like all that chard just growing there like it's trying to be a tree. A nice fibrous tree with leaves that have magical Airplane Food curing powers.

Even if you're not saying so, I know YOU KNOW what I mean.

First though, for the harvest...

Vacation Tomatoes:

Vacation beans:

Vacation Chard:

Vacation forest:

Vacation Cucumbers: (whoops. these are large)

Vacation Pumpkins:

Vacation Melons:

And for the Magical Airplane Food Curing powers of chard, I made up a recipe. And because we had some bacon left from The Bacon Share, this made-up recipe included bacon. And because I can't be dainty about things for the sake of everyone's precious sensitivities, I call this recipe the Bacon Broom.

Because it's my basic Broom recipe, just with bacon mixed in because we have some and it makes the Broom taste better.

What is the broom? Oh, I think you know.

It's the chard and I think you know why we call it a broom even if you're not saying so. Aren't you just so polite and ladylike. You'll have to tell me what that's like some time.

Bacon Broom
Recipe of my own devising

Ingredients
About 8 big chard leaves, sliced into ribbons
3-4 strips of country bacon, chopped
Extra virgins
Salt
Pepper
Pepperoncino or cayenne, if you wish

To make
Over medium-high heat, brown your chopped bacon with a little oil (yes, we're adding oil to bacon here folks, it's glorious) until it's toasty.


Then dump in your chard. It will cover the pan in a scary way, but that's OK. As it heats it will wilt and then you can turn it with your tongs.


As such...

Add salt, pepper and pepperoncino to taste and once the whole mess of chard is wilted (about 4 minutes), transfer to a plate and serve warm.

We like ours with The Best Tomato Sauce Ever. Yep. on farfalle pasta as seen in the photo above.

And in case you were wondering if the Bacon Broom is as effective and magical as the regular Broom, I can assure you that it is. Plus having a bite of bacon when you're sifting through a mountain of chard is a nice change and can help distract you from the true task at hand.

And now you know a lot more about me than I bet you ever wanted and isn't that just nice.

Hello, friend.

No I did not go on a zipline tour so please do not even ask.

I didn't realize until I started planning this trip that everyone in the whole wide world except for Bubba and I associate Costa Rica with zipline tours.

Seriously. Everyone I mentioned this trip to immediately asked with rapt and breathless excitement OH MY GOD ARE YOU GOING ON A ZIPLINE TOUR?! And then sometimes they'd add BECAUSE IT WAS THE BEST THING I DID IN COSTA RICA AND IT WAS SO FUN!

As though I need to go sliding through the jungle canopy like so many pounds of flailing tourist with a harness digging into my lady parts.

As though.

Also I'm pretty sure they don't let you zipline while drinking a G&T, which made the possibility of it happening pretty damn slim given our daily routine which went something like this:

Wake up at a random hour.


Caffeinate.
Walk to the beach.


Swim around.


Walk back to the house.
Take a shower.
Eat an enormous breakfast courtesy of The Vacation Breakfast Chef also known as Bubba.


Take a nap while pretending to read my book.
Eat an enormous lunch courtesy of The Vacation Lunch Chef also known as me.
Sit on the balcony with my book until the afternoon storm rolled in indicating Cocktail Hour (approx 2pm).


Enjoy an enormous cocktail (or two) courtesy of The Vacation Bartender also known as Bubba.
Watch the storm while pretending to read my book.
Eat an enormous dinner courtesy of The Vacation Dinner Chef also known as me.


Watch some tube en espanol or last season of Dexter on DVD.
[CENSORED]
Go for a nighttime swim.
Bed time.

See? Where would one fit in zipline tours or any other "Vacation Activity"? Simply put, there's no time in our busy vacation schedule of lazing about for things such as this.

Plus, we don't like to talk to other people when we're on vacation and those kind of activities always involve some overweight psychopath in a Hawaiian shirt describing in great detail how he goes diving and lures fish toward him by carrying orange slices in a waterproof cigarette case. For example.

We have plenty of crazy to share between the two of us, so you can just keep your activities to yourself and I'm so glad that zipline touring changed your life, yippie wippy wippy.

We just prefer our own brand of vacation activity-ing and we realize that it is unconventional and, to everyone else, it seems pretty boring and weird.

For instance, we played a very heated game of Surface Tension whereby I was forced to stealthily slurp my orange juice without spilling it after someone filled the glass to its super-fullest. For the record, someone spilled his juice all over the counter whoopsy I feel so bad:


Then we totally dominated the game known to us as Final Feast where we spend the last day of vacation eating every last thing in the fridge so that we don't leave it for the sexy Mexican maid:


And we also had a knock-down drag out battle of Bs&Gs which I summarily lost because I am not from the midwest like someone who has been building up his stamina for this sport of biscuit and gravy eating since youth:


Don't get all WHAT IS WRONG WITH THEM THEY'RE ON VACATION JUST PLAYING STUPID GAMES or anything - we did some normal stuff.

Like we swam around some beaches other than just the one right down the path from us and had a nice anniversary dinner at a restaurant where there were other people so that I could have lobster and we could watch the sunset and then we drove around to some of the recommended locations to see how AWESOME they were.

This was the AWESOME BEACH YOU HAVE TO SEE IT.

And so that I don't close out this post with a picture of the dead fish on the AWESOME beach, see if you can find the rainbow in this picture because I took a hundred shots trying to get it and, well, they didn't turn out so hot which is probably because I was taking them from the car and it was raining.


Thank you, Costa Rica, but we're glad to be home. Mama can't eat another plate of Bs&Gs and hope to fit into her 7's.