farmers and fleas

shake shack

For breakfast yesterday: shack burger with extra pickles, cheese fries, and root beer on a park bench on 77th and Columbus.

new york, new york

goodbye pickles

The night before we left Portland for our grand return to New York, New York, we made some pickles to have pickling in our absence. The cucumbers we've culled from the garden over the last few weeks were left soaking while we assembled the requisite garlic, dill, sea salt, and peppercorns.


Into the bucket they go, swimming in a lovely brine, to be resting under a dinner plate in our basement.


When we return it will be time for jarring and crunching and munching and perhaps some large pastrami sandwiches.

hula hoop

laughing chicken

Dinner tonight at Laughing Planet on Belmont. Met this nice chicken through the patio fence. Bahgak!


Burrito consumed so quickly it could not be caught on film. Before enjoyed fresh squeezed carrot apple juice and grinning dinosaur.

impromptu bbq

Another beautiful bbq yesterday, with Eve doing some excellent cookery. I gathered flowers from the yard; these strange lilac-like beauties, our bereft sunflowers, the lone day lily. Before we played in Laurelhurst park, Eve set to sitting some lovely fresh tomato sauce. Five large, meaty tomatoes from the farmer's market on Saturday, bunches of basil pinched from the garden, garlic, olive oil, sea salt and peppercorns all chopped and left to set in the shade for the afternoon.


The chicken thighs relaxed in a lemon herb bath while I hung laundry, awash in parsley, thyme, and rosemary from the garden. Eve sliced crookneck squash and peeled cucumbers (also garden grown) for a little salt bath, destined to be mixed with a luciously ripe cantalope in a lemon-yogurt dressing, topped with minced garden spearmint.


The guacamole was ritualistically chopped and almost instantly consumed.


More basil was sacrificed, alongside fresh mozzarella and some tomatoes borrowed from the pasta sauce.


Lisa provided a large red pepper for the roasting, and so it was. The fire was lit, the chicken charred, the beer disappeared, and everyone was happy.

labyrinth

Went to see The Labyrinth last night at the Bagdad. After a good hour of horrible Peter Gabriel videos, it finally arrived - David Bowie's crotch and a torrent of nostalgia. I was one of those kids that lived on this movie, that and The Wizard of Oz where essential to my upbringing.


My favorite character by far is the Worm. 'ello!

on saturday

I usually like to do my laundry, scrub the bathtub, and make copious amounts of food. To be followed by bubble baths and books and tea. I failed in all of these things today, struck down by an evil toddlerfeverbug. Mostly I pouted about. Here are some pictures of a couple Saturdays ago, where I managed to do more.


Like grind up the gargantuan zucchinis from my garden with chunks of chocolate into the most moist delicious cupcakes ever.


The zucchini was so large that it also provided enough bounty for my first ever successful batch of zucchini pancakes. Paul and I have tried on multiple occasions, using various methods, to get our damn zucchini cakes to stick together. This time I used pure instinct, egg, breadcrumbs, and parmesan.


And enjoyed the bounty outside, amidst my drying laundry.

living outside

Had the pleasure of good old friends this past Sunday, passing through on the tail end of a grand adventure.


Also had the pleasure of Portland friends, the backyard, nice weather...


guacamole and cheese and hard salami...


copious amounts of fresh vegetables...


and Bible was there, of course.


Fire and living outside and summer.

bible in june

Ahh, my golden viking on a table rescued from a free pile and recovered with gingham, lying beside some of the first radish crop.

home

I grew up in Harveys Lake, Pennsylvania, the largest natural lake entirely contained in the state. (I didn't actually grow up in the lake, however, just nearby). I haven't been home since January, and I miss my mama and my daddy-o and my brother and Fred. Things I like about going home:


Freddie, our adopted cat, who has a very large head and is kind of dumb and likes to follow my father around and is very spoiled.


The garden, where we spend most of our time munching, relaxing, weeding, trellising, drinking beers. This is last summer, and my father reports that heavy rain has made it a bit of a mud pit this season.


My mothers indoor plants which create tiny jungles on our decks and porches.


"The girls," whose various generations we have watched unfold as they crunch our orchard apples, crab apples, chestnuts, mulberries, etc.


Raspberries from the bush, sweet tea with garden mint.


The way the cucumbers curl and cling.


The aluminum watering cans which Freddie likes to drink from.


Hiding in the garden. And the green rolling hills of the Appalachians.

more bible

Yesterday he came and snuggled in my bed while I read. Then he got white hair all over my yoga mat, cried until I gave him tuna, and left. I'm in love.

scrabble, marycat

Hanging out with Clara on Sunday, failing to craft much, but having a lovely time sitting in the sunshine, watching Mary sleep.


And playing Scrabble.

growing

In my neighborhood, there are some fairly exotic growing things. A fig tree grows on the corner of Taylor and 37th, the fruit still rock hard but promising.


A plot of artichokes nearby has kept me fascinated for months. I have never seen artichokes growing before, and this patch is large and sharp-looking and now in bloom.


I suppose they're no longer edible, but the bees are entranced. I have seen them fall asleep in the flower.

the gleaners and i

Just saw The Gleaners and I at the Portland Art Museum. It was beautiful, again.

martini, barefeet

Met Clara and Mark at Crush for happy hour. Mezza of sunflower seed hummus, olive tapenade, and baba ganoush. Cold vodka martini, dry with olives. Yes, please.

bandit

Yesterday morning as I was pouring iced tea into my jam jar and getting ready for work, I noticed this largefluffy lounging about on the carport in the backyard, grooming itself like a cat.

birdtree

Laurelhurst Park on the fourth of July.

fattyloaf

Fattyloaf has been a friendly neighbor for many months now. I see her frequently on my way home from the Belmont Library. I call her Fattyloaf because, well:


She is a truly lovely kitten, with quite a small head and the softest fur. I saw her socializing with this gentleman, who looks like trouble to me.