The best candy store on the face of the earth has relocated to its new store.  I stocked back up.  When I was a 13 year old, I worked before and after school at a tuck shop right outside my high school. Every student would jam themselves into the store at 745am, just before the beginning of classes, and like the stock exchange, all call out their orders.  The owner and his wife and I would fill them all quickly, like a well-oiled machine. 

The job gave me cred with my fellow students, gave them fewer reasons to bang my head against a wall for being an American in their country (we did not have an anti-bullying curriculum back in the day), and gave the owners the weekend off, when they handed me the keys one Saturday and said, "You're in charge." 

I used the money I saved to buy my first ever pair of sweet ass kicks.  I had walking around money.  It allowed for travel beyond the 10 ride clipper card my mother gave me for the bus each month.  I cruised record stores, met up with friends, explored the nether reaches of the town, going to places so far away I rarely made it home for dinner on time.  My parents barely batted an eyelash the night I ran away the first time.  "I'm going out," I said, at 730pm on a Wednesday.  I wondered how long it took for them to realize I was not coming back.

The first thing I did when I left the house was walk up the enormous and hilly road that led to the village.  I went into the off-license and bought a can of Shandy.  That's right, beer and lemonade, considered tame and totally legal for a 14 year old to buy.  I walked across the street and entered the telephone kiosk, just like the one in Dr. Who, except red.  It was raining, so I had to take shelter.  I looked through the remaining change in my hand and decided to risk an investment in calling my Biology teacher.  She was a friend, someone who realized I was getting the shit kicked out of me at home and took an interest in making sure I wasn't murdered or at least called my house if I didn't show up to school after a few days.  My attendance was spotty; I was truant for so much of high school until the headmaster decided I was underutilizing my capabilities, made me a Prefect, thus giving me daily responsibilities to come to school for - lessons alone not being enough of an incentive.

I still had trouble staying there most of the time.

I would arrive, do my tuck shop job, then go to my form room for registration, making sure I was there to guide the students in an orderly manner during change of class, and if it was English, Geography, Religious Studies, History, Chemistry, or Biology, I would go to a class, otherwise, I would leave, right after I dropped off the big ledger off to the Registrar.

My Biology teacher sounded mildly hysterical the night I called her to mull over my next steps.  She offered to come get me.  I turned that down.  She offered to call a social services person.  Also turned that down (later, when I returned home, as all children must, unless the state steps in to save them, my mother told me flat out I would be raped repeatedly if I ever ran away again, reasoning that I would be sent straight to a children's home).  I did not let this deter me from running away three more times and once back in America, they ran away from me.  Problem solved.

I wouldn't agree to anything on the phone that night.  I only wanted to hear her voice.  I wanted the reassurance of someone else caring for me to know as I was about to leap into the unknown, that I wasn't entirely alone.  I walked a few miles past all the bags of glue hanging from the trees (glue sniffing was big in the 80's as was heroin, but when hasn't heroin been big?).  I walked through the council houses, through the rough parts of the village until I arrived at the row of houses of two youth leaders from church.  They opened the door and didn't ask any questions.  They took me inside and got me something warm to drink to de-ice me.  

The youth leaders called the pastor.  The pastor, a guy who hated my dad, called for my presence.  It turns out the pastor was the father of my boyfriend, so it was just a little awkward to arrive in their foyer with now 4 youth leaders in tow for a conference in the dining room.  The pastor was trying to frame my father for some bad stuff he actually did, but once I realized they weren't there for my well-being, I lied and pled the fifth.  I spent the weekend at the home of another youth leader who had two other girls staying for similar reasons. The two girls had invested most of every day at high school bullying me; I wasn't sure if I was in the frying pan or the fire.  Further, given lack of space, I had to share a bed with one of them and I got my first kiss that night.  People are abusive for a surprisingly large array of reasons, it turns out.

The pastor had a heart attack years later.  He worked so hard to oust the former pastor, to gain control over the congregation, among which existed a subversive list of dark characters doing things they should not, my father one of them.  I am still waiting for those things to be shouted from the rooftops, and who knows, maybe one day, I will do the shouting.

the asters are blowing the signal of the last of the flowering, the things I love the best about the year. I hate digging up the tomato beds. I feel like I’m betraying them as they keep forcing out more fruit even though it’s 32 out. :/

“Everything in life is like a dance with strangers,
right from the start
your heart is waiting...
you never fall in love without a little danger
we stumble around to the music playing...”

Update: I decided not to pull out all of the tomatoes.  I clipped them back significantly, almost to stalks.  I unplanted all of the herbs; they are delicate and Big Delicious Planet in Chicago has (the best lunch ever) a huge, raised garden and in talking to the main gardener there, learned they transplant their herbs indoors for the winter.  Hence the pic below, in the basement.  They were 2 to a pot, for space conservation.  The basement is not just for tornados anymore!

Had the people over for dinner last night.  The cherry tomatoes had one last magnificent hurrah and produced 60 more so I made easy tomato jam via the Suburban Soapbox.  I scaled the ingredients back a bit because I didn't have big tomatoes or as many as required.  The important part about making it is to let it boil a lot and make sure it is in a very non-stick pot.  It has to thicken up - the sugar has to candy a little and then it is done.

I paired it with goat cheese and thin crackers.  I got some port salut cheese as well - a soft cheese with a decent taste.  Both went over well.  Once you add the tomato jam, it is just the sweet topping to round it out perfectly.

I also made bread rolls, the main course was beef.  It's fall (y'all), so why not make it hearty?  These corn-fed midwesterners need their carbohydrates.  I found the recipe in a small cookbook from my mother, circa 1980.  I love her old cookbooks.  This one is English and was hard to translate.  The dough was too sticky, so I had to add more flour during the first kneading & set to rise a 2nd time for about 30 minutes.

I used a big bread bowl not pictured here to mix everything together and then transferred over to a glass bowl greased with olive oil.

Kneading post-2nd rise.  Do not over-knead it or they will be extra-crusty-tough.  Rolled into a long tube.  Cut sections.  Every place I have lived before my current house did not have a countertop I could use as a giant cutting board.  Now, I am a spoiled, American brat.  It is handy, but I still got a lot of flour on the floor (and me).

Had I been a more practiced bread-maker, I could have added a brushing of egg to make the tops golden.  I might have made them all the exact length and shape, too.  Again, do not let your inexperience concern you.  The point is, just make stuff.  Try things out.  I greased the pans with olive oil because it has a higher temp threshold before it turns everything black above it.

Right out of the oven, these were really good.  They were soft but very crusty (over-kneader!) at dinner.  Good yeasty character, but not overwhelmingly-so. 

​It's not my favorite version yet.  They pack well for reheating in the microwave for 8-10 seconds.  Hot butter to finish.

It was a bright day, perfect to try out more cyanotypes.  It took me an hour of painstaking knife cuts to get this just the way I wanted it.  The paper thickness was great.  The liquid was not fresh and did not produce the deep, vivid blueprint look I was aiming for.  I'm going to try it on cotton next chance I get.

Saturday: stood in the sun volunteering in the morning and felt a little touched in the head afterwards.  Later, the terrification of unregulated fairground rides with hot air balloons dotting the sky and a 14 year old screaming, "Let's ride the Scrambler!!!"  + something icy on rt. 66.

​Four hours of driving, one neighborly rescue when the tank desk, as it is aptly named became way too heavy to carry, and a lot of organization later, and here it is!  The chair and lamp were my grandfather's.  I have not turned on the light in 5 years.  It is still going strong after being on this earth since the 1960's.

Have you ever been so tired you washed the tomatoes you picked from the garden (in your pocket, in the washer).  That was last week.  Today, this is 90% of the remaining cherry tomatoes from the garden.  The summer is winding down, with great regret, I can tell.  She is holding on with blasts of heat and bouts of fitful rain and chill.  It'll be Halloween soon.  Yes, it takes 3 months to get the faux spiderwebs out of the bushes after application, but it's spooky and why be mundane?

I have a cold, and I feel like death.  This has not stopped me from cooking. 

Let's walk through what to do with a piece of beef that is nearing it's shelf life and a couple of potatoes.  Also, how about some peach cobbler?  The thought of peaches in any other form than cobbler reminds me of peach schnapps (and not positively-so, either), so if you hate peaches, just know you can sub with your favorite fruit.

Start with the ingredients.  Flour is not pictured here.  The butter was hard as a rock from the freezer, but a couple minutes in the microwave on soften will produce something you can work with.

To recap, you'll need: 

• 2 cans of peaches
• 1 stick of butter
• brown sugar
• ​cinnamon
• salt
• oats
• vanilla 
• flour
• ​small baking dish

I cut up the peaches after straining.  I forgot to grease the dish, but I did it belatedly.  Add the dry ingredients to a bowl.  How much, you ask?  One and a half good fists of brown sugar, about the same of flour, a sprinkle or 3 of cinnamon, a cup or two of oats, and a pinch of salt.  Add a teaspoon of vanilla and the butter.

If you're making this with apples, I usually peel them and add a bit of lemon, then toss them in a little flour, brown sugar and vanilla.  

Turn the dry ingredients into a kind of strudel topping by squeezing the ingredients together with your hands.  I used quick oats, but they are pretty hearty, so it will produce a granola-like topping, crunchy and sweet.  You could add a little honey and back off the brown sugar slightly, too.  

Once it's congealed together into crumb-like particles, with most of the butter incorporated (it can be a little buttery still), spread evenly across the peaches and pop into the oven for 35 minutes on 375 degrees F.

It should be golden (but not dark) brown with bubbly edges when the crumble is ready to exit the oven.  Let it stand for 20 minutes or so for it to get a caramel texture before serving.  Or eat it hot as hell!

When I put this together, I made the beef and potatoes first.  It is going to take 5 hours to finish.  I happen to love dessert over the main course, so you get what I like!

Wash the potatoes, and really get them clean with your fingers.  Now dice them, keeping the pieces pretty big. 

Let's make some bouillon.  I like the paste, but I have cubes and granules on hand, too.  1 tsp of paste to 1 1/2 - 2 cups of hot water, stir until combined.  Set the crock pot to high.

Add the bouillon and potatoes to the crock pot.  

Sprinkle your favorite beef seasoning on both sides of the meat, then chop into big pieces.

Place the beef on top of the potatoes.  Put the lid on and cook for 5 hours, or until the beef is separating from the chunks with a fork (like a pulled-meat, it should be tender).

Place into your favorite container and put it into the fridge overnight.  I would normally add some carrots to this recipe, but I didn't have any, and because I have a cold, I couldn't summon the strength to go to the store to get anything else.  When you heat this up the next day, it can be served as-is, or with some peas on the side.  In the winter, I would make some crusty french bread rolls to go with it, hot with butter being the optimal serving style.  

If you opt to make this using a much larger piece of beef, such as a small roast, add the carrots, potatoes and a little celery and a tiny bit of onion all to the bottom of the crock pot with some water, or bouillon, and let it cook overnight, at least 8 hours.  The house will smell delightful upon rising.  Unless you're a vegetarian, and then you've already switched off after the peach cobbler, so there we have it, and there we are!

Addendums....

​The tomatoes continue to grow throughout August.  The heat has been perfect for doing just that.  I usually harvest them when they are just beginning to get red, and let them complete their ripening on the counter top.  The skins are much softer that way.  

The rabbit sprang from the marigolds as I ventured down to the tomatoes this morning.  I hope they eat marigolds because they are not letting up, either.  Until next time...