So we subscribed to a CSA this year. This is "Community-Supported Agriculture," and what it means is that every Tuesday, I go to somebody's house and take a nice box out of their garage with a ridiculous amount of fresh, organic produce that was grown on a farm about 40 miles away. (This week: 4 pounds of red potatoes, 2 bunches of kale, a head of lettuce, a bunch of carrots, three Walla Walla onions, 2 cucumbers, 2 zucchini, a bag of about 12 peaches, a pint of blueberries. Not a bad haul.)
Yes, this is a way to express both my food snobbery and my crunchy-granola tendencies all in one fell swoop. But as a result, I'm doing a lot of cooking. Of vegetables. Early on, there were only greens in the boxes, and ohhhhh the amount of salad. So much salad. If it had gone on longer, I would soon have resorted to serving salad three meals a day just to recover a little space in the refrigerator for my sweet, precious cans of diet Coke.
So where was I? Oh, yeah, cooking. Matt and Sasha have endured a lot of strange dishes, such bizarre things as zucchini cake! And zucchini frittata! And bok choi stir fry with kale in lettuce wraps! And did I mention the salad?
But you didn't come here to hear me talk about vegetables and cooking, you want your cute kid story, right? I know what you're after.
So today, I've got Maya on my hip, I'm putting garlic through a press with my free hand (on its way to be roasted over red potatoes), and I make an astonishing discovery: Maya, she *does not care for garlic.* Given her heritage, I am not sure how this is even possible, but there you have it; the aroma of the fresh garlic made her turn away with disgust! There was a face! There was COUGHING!
My kitchen is: Weirdly cluttery. Having no problems with dirty dishes, and the new dishwasher is working out nicely (there's a story I'm missing here, about my dishwasher breaking, and us getting a new dishwasher, and Sasha throwing a fit because she *missed the old dishwasher* I'm not even kidding tears and everything). But I find myself with a lot of stuff in the kitchen with no home, no away to put it in. As always, this is telling of systemic problems in my life: I need to find an away. Or maybe just suck it up and hire cleaners again.
Posted by andrea at July 26, 2007 10:43 PM