All posts filed under: a whole bunch

Dill pesto from A Raisin & A Porpoise

frond feelings

I don’t know what all of you have gotten done the last few weeks, but the dill’s sure been busy.  It has self-seeded in a good portion of my parents’ garden, and it’s about as high as an elephant’s eye, and I picked a whole big lot of it, knowing full well I had nothing to mince it up into (it’s mad tasty added in copious amounts to spinach, but I had no spinach). I just got kind of mesmerized by its abundance, and the waxy feel of the leaves and the bracing aroma as I picked.  Then all of a sudden I had a huge handful of dill, whose abundance I did not want to waste. Dill pesto!  There’s an idea.  Fearing it would be too aggressively dilly on its own, I threw some lettuce in to mellow things out. In a matter of moments, I had some glorious green goo. There are lots of things this would be good with, and for, and on. I imagined styling it up for you on a …


the old man is snoring

Buckets of rain today.  No complaining is allowed, because we have been so dry here that valid fears were harbored for the growing season.  I rely on the growing season for sanity as well as sustenance, and round about May 1 my fatigue with the purchase of well-traveled produce is reaching its peak.  My version of the general strike?  I will eat from my yard today, and let our seriously unstable commercial food system grind on without my Tuesday participation.  It may tumble.  Don’t say I didn’t warn you. The first green shoots to poke up here see my smiling face, and my scissors, right above them.  My dearly beloved once saw me quietly rejecting the frisée in a fancy salad and expressed confusion.  A green that I didn’t like?  “But you’ll eat anything the mower kicks up!” he exclaimed.  Trying to eat frisée, in my opinion, is like chewing the top of a pineapple.  It’s pretty and all, but best admired from a distance.  The yard has plenty to offer in its place. In …



The other day at the grocery store, I heard a woman (a well-heeled woman, who had parked next to me so I saw her snazzy wheels and knew this shocking thing I am about to tell you was not likely an issue of cash flow) ask the young man in the produce department where she could find fresh mint. He pointed it out. She said, “can I buy half a bunch?” and to my amazement, he said yes. “Good,” she said. “And I want half a bunch of basil, too.” The very idea! Nice Produce Guy says that happens frequently enough that they have a policy about it, which apparently is to say yes even though it is possibly the silliest thing I can imagine asking a produce guy, other than maybe “can you peel this orange for me, and then can I pay less per pound?” My reactionary response is a recipe for a metric butt-load of dip, because I was loathe to leave you with either the desire to ask the produce person …