|A gratuitous pic of Slimmie on his lambskin.|
Luckily, a couple of other dishes fared better - spinach/chard quiche and polenta in my Instant Pot. Years ago, when I had just moved to the area and was on the search for friends, I met my Other Els. She was a weaver of exceptional talent (I have one of her linen transparencies with a sheep in my kitchen window), a lovely woman and friend - and a great cook and gardener. She gave me a little piece of lovage, which I have managed not to kill, and that now towers above everything in the herb garden. She also was an excellent quiche-maker. The family was vegetarian, so she was a wizard with vege. I had forgotten - until this weekend - that she would spread a layer of Dijon mustard on the bottom of the crust, then put a layer of cheese, then the vege, then the custard. In one bite, you got a crispy crust (cheese), tang (mustard), chew (vege), and creaminess (custard). That's just what I did with mine and it is good! Which is lucky, as I will be eating it all week.
|Half the box of the infamous shiitakes|
From the barnyard - there was an unexplained dust-up between the Blondie sisters, resulting in the bloodied head of one of the girls. I have no idea what started it, but I saw blood on the outside of one of the nesting boxes after I had let them out - leaving me searching vainly for the wounded party. I finally spotted her bloody head and that night, under the light of my trusty headlamp, I cleaned her up as best as I could and dabbed on some antibiotic. She seemed just fine this morning and there hasn't been more violence. It's always something.
It was a weekend of bits and bobs - I managed to repair the bird feeder for my railing; I got a pedicure and now sport magenta toes; I changed the filters on my Berkey; I toted trash and recycling to the transfer station; I delivered eggs to my neighbors; I found a home for the cross-country skis; I loaded two 50# bags of chicken feed into their bin (why is it that a 50# bag now feels as if it weighs twice that much?) I restacked some hay, did a little rearranging in the living room, and managed a meager attempt at housecleaning. I also spent a lot of time listening to an audio book that I cannot leave to just car time - so far, I have listened to three in the series by Anne Cleeves upon which the series Shetland is based. Besides terrific writing, character development and plot lines that hold you in their grip right up to the end, it's read by a Scotsman. Lawsymercy, I am such a sucker for the birrs and twirls of a deep Scotch voice. If someone told me he was wearing a kilt while reading the script, I don't think I could deal with it.
|These nuts were in one of the empty egg|
cartons given to me by my neighbors.
There is a very unhappy squirrel somewhere.