Health Dept. Raids Farm, Destroys Harvest
The BLT Gains a Few Letters
That’s bacon, avocado, cheese, tomato, cilantro, parsley and mayo on wheat toast. And it was delicious — which just goes to show that recipes are to cooking as road signs are to driving. They’re just suggestions.
BLT — says who? First of all, you need a vowel in there for it to make any sense. That bare-boned, three-ingredient acronym is just begging for some Avocado. I kicked the L out entirely because I didn’t have any. No lettuce? No worries; find something else green and throw it on. Enter cilantro and parsley, which I keep fresh on hand to satisfy my boyfriend’s every tea-brewing need.
The next time we made these sandwiches, we swapped out the M for an H, spreading on a healthier alternative of hummus in place of mayo. That makes this sandwich a vegetarian’s dream — because, let’s face it, I know you’re not salivating over fruit; you’re dreaming about the temptations of bacon on top of your daily greens.
Margherita Pizza
Flower Garden
3 Flowerbeds + 10 Dirty Fingernails Later…
Today launched our post-Memorial summer hours at work, when we’re released at 3:30. And I made the most of my extra hours. First, at a Rocky River garage sale, I found an armload of name-brand clothes for a dollar each and then something I haven’t purchased for at least 15 years: A family of Breyer model horses like the ones I used to collect when I still thought I’d grow up to be a cowgirl. I bought them, ostensibly, because I know old Breyer horses are valuable (these turned out to be almost as old as me, created in 1986) – but if there wasn’t nostalgia behind these plastic figures that consumed my childhood imagination, I wouldn’t have made the special trip to the ATM.
Then, back home with the new clothes in the laundry, I headed back out to the still-70-degree sunshine to get the rest of the flowers I ordered in the ground before they fried. A few flowerbeds and 10 dirty fingernails later, the remainder of my impatiens, dusty millers and salvia are safely in the ground, ready to be watered with tomorrow’s storm.
Aside from the squash, zucchini and pumpkins – who already have their homes by the patio – I still have to plant what I started from seed, as well as the vegetables and herbs I hope to get from Emerson Farm in Goshen, Ind. But my plans for these seedlings are quickly fading because when I mailed my rent this week, I included a note telling my landlord I’ll be out when my lease is up later this summer. I won’t be around to reap what I’ve sowed (this said to clear my name of blame when vegetables show up missing later, ahem.) I won’t be around next summer to see how much more space the pesky lemon balm commandeers, or how much fuller the chamomile flowers come back. This saddens me briefly, but such is the transient life of a renter.
Now, it’s time to watch my man Daymond on Shark Tank. The highly-polished fashion mogul told me himself that dirty fingernails reveal something about your personal brand. I guess I’ve branded myself a gardener.