Hand Me Downs

I wrote my first article for the marvelous online publication, The Curator.  It’s about farms, local food, Outstanding in the Field, special banquets.  Wanna read?

http://www.curatormagazine.com/

Love,

Katy

As I noted somewhere earlier, it is a shame and a travesty to neglect the joy of tomato season when it’s upon us.  It goes so quickly, and I feel the first endings of it happening this cool, rainy September.  I hereby present a retrospective of some of our favorite moments of tomatoes this summer.  A few are mine, some are Elizabeth Bradley’s, some are Nomad & Mare’s from down the street, one is from Kenny’s mom, and the rest are from the farmers of Tennessee and Kentucky who lovingly raised them- we are so thankful for this versatile fruit/vegetable.  As the motto of East Nashville’s Tomato Art Festival goes:  The tomato:  a uniter, not a divider.

The little beginnings of my tomatoes…

Prepping the bed for tomato plants

My humble little plants

The first promising little blossom

My first canning endeavor

Elizabeth Bradley’s sweet little yellow tomatoes simmering with shrimp- amazing over pasta!

Omelettes with green tomatoes and avocado-  we couldn’t wait to eat the first ones.

Homemade hummus, cukes, chips & garden tomatoes.

Pepperoni and garlic with sundried tomatoes and homemade sauce

Aaand another.

One of many batches of bruschetta

I could eat bruschetta for every meal.  But when you’re making bruschetta for the first Georgia football game, you realize all good things must soon come to an end…Kinda.  So glad we froze and canned salsa and sauce.

And finally, Martha Stamps’ gorgeous salad for the Outstanding in the Field dinner this past Sunday night.  What a glorious way to end a season of bounty.  I’ll be blogging about Outstanding in the Field in a couple of weeks at The Curator.  More on that soon!

Eat them while they’re here, friends.  Juicy, red, yellow, brown, purple, orange…  What shows God’s delight in variety and delight in delighting us like a tomato?

Mwah,

Katy

Big fat fly on red door in kitchen.

Easy target.

What for a fly swatter?

Within reach:

Dillard’s The Writing Life and The Ball Blue Book of Canning- my mother’s.

Can’t do it.

Count your blessings, fly.  Good books have spared you for another night.

Kenny and I had five dear friends over for dinner last night- Tish and Jonathan, Beth and Bryce and their nigh-on one year old, Eli.  The evening wound around from bruschetta to discussion of local food to beef burguignonne to authority of scripture to wine to watermelon to wine in watermelon to children’s books to childhood stories to chocolate and watermelon in the wine and back to theology.  Eli ate with us, played at, under and around the table, and thoroughly enjoyed his watermelon and avocado.

Throughout the “chocolate and wine” portion of the evening, we discussed life and God and how we know that scripture is true.  Wine continued, discussion of scripture and good writing and how we know stuff continued.   Eli played at our feet with the various objects provided for him, with a wholeheartedness and enthusiasm that only a one-year old could bring to his play.  I was struck by the funny thought that humans considering the things of God is not unlike Eli playing paddleball with two plastic paddles and a gourd on the coffeetable.  We can kinda do it, and there are things to be learned, but there’s an inherent silliness and awkwardness to  us being very serious about it.  I understand that if anything’s worth taking seriously, what God is up to is worth taking seriously.  I also understand that I, in my smallness, simpleness and silliness, ought not to take my own play and expertise on the finer points too very seriously.  Plastic paddles and a gourd, ya know?

Eli, sharing some watermelon with his dad.

When I harvested these a week or so ago, it felt crazy to be bringing in my squash and pumpkins so early.   But the squashbugs were wreaking havoc, and Kenny will cheer for the Florida Gators before I give those bugs my pumpkins.

This week, with the nip in the air, it feels more reasonable to share a pic of my early fall fruits.  And when we get home from this trip to Atlanta, I will begin making fall-ish things.  And simmering cider with cinnamon and nutmeg and cloves on the stove.