The garden is at its peak. Every day we twist sweet, soft tomatoes from their vines, gather bright firm peppers, cut something back, like the dried cilantro gone to seed. The harvest is here.
Even though our cucumbers were subject to disease, we managed to get a lot of picklers before the vines eventually shriveled and dried. The same has affected our squash and looks like the pumpkins and watermelon might be growing it as well, but we did get two small yellow spaghetti squash.
Peppers though, peppers are pretty easy. We just leave them alone and they flourish.
My hands have the prickly sting this morning from de-seeding, and mincing pounds of jalapenos. Seems the oils managed to either penetrate my gloves, or somewhere there was a small hole. As I write, the sound of rolling bubbles rises behind me from the kitchen where another batch of salsa is being sealed in the canning pot. From the first batch I made a delicious tortilla soup with the extra tomato/jalapeno infused cooking liquid as a base.
The weekend was full of food: the garden, the kitchen, at the movies and with a new read. Saturday I saw with the inspirational Julie & Julia with it's emotive saturated hues in the 50's Parisian scenes, and enjoyed good talk over a glass of pino grigio with a friend. Trolled around Borders and finally picked up a copy of A Homemade Life, by Molly Wizenburg. I thought a good food memoir might help give me the extra motivation to carry on through what seems to be an unending supply of produce we are presently reaping.
It's good fortune that our garden has been so abundant. I know it is and I'm thankful. I hope it's okay though that I need to remind myself, because these two hands will wash, slice, season, and set by this summer bounty to enjoy throughout the winter. Canning, freezing, slow roasting (then freezing) ... now is the time --like a squirrel hoarding acorns-- of preparation.
