You know that horrible feeling you get when you realize someone you idolize has let you down? I went through that particular emotional wringer today after finding three ripe tomatillos in the garden. I was ecstatic, since I’d planted eight (8!) tomatillo plants with the express purpose of turning them into delicious, vibrant chimichurri sauce, just like Bobby Flay does on Iron Chef. Now, I log a lot of hours watching the Food Network, as I have a high level of culinary expertise I need to maintain. That, and I could happily watch Bobby Flay watching paint dry. Imagine my horror when, upon plucking the golden ripe tomatillos off of the ground, I pulled up his chimichurri recipe only to discover that he didn’t do nearly a good enough job of explaining his signature sauce doesn’t actually have tomatillo in it. Even worse, it’s parsley-based!!!! I hate parsley. I hate everything about it. Its texture. Its stench. The sheer, overwhelming parsliness of it. I have a huge garden– several huge gardens in fact. You know what you won’t find growing anywhere in them? Parsley. Thanks, Bobby. Thanks for nothing.
Despite the emotional drama, I have only to look around our house to feel buoyant again. Harvesting season has officially begun, and signs of it are everywhere inside. Mesh bags of shallots (spider free!) adorn the inside of pantry doors, and loads of white scallop squashes hang from the bookcases, since I ran out of pantry doors. A mysterious object sits on top of our wood stove, wrapped in our best blue beach towel – how else would anyone store a fresh batch of fermenting cucumbers? It has to sit undisturbed for a month, so perching it on top of a wood burning stove makes perfect sense. If you open the fridge, you’re greeted by a big tub of what Gene has named “peach goo”, which is the leftover pulp from juiced peaches after preparing them for jelly. I decided to use the goo in lieu of banana in banana bread, and from the smell and taste of the batter, I think peach bread is going to be amazing. Maybe I’ll write Bobby Flay and tell him about it.
In critter news, I’m happy to report that Lucky Duck came back this morning. It took him less than 12 hours to realize the Big Wide World doesn’t provide fresh swimming pools and nutritious meals twice a day, nor does it offer watermelon treats at 3 pm on hot days. He probably really missed the nightly tuck-in service, and his comfortable, clean, predator-proof Duck Mansion. I’ve been watching him all day and he hasn’t flown away once. In fact, he couldn’t even wait until I took the hose out before jumping into the clear, clean water of the big pond. At least now he knows what a truly lucky duck he is.