Home Cooking, Comfort Food

There are certain things that I really miss from home, so when I found a nice bunch of green tomatoes well you know I just had to turn them into fried green tomatoes.  This isn’t a common thing, not where I live and definitely not something Beloved grew up with.  He won’t even touch them because they are unrepentant tomatoes battered in heavenly cornmeal and fried nice and crisp.  But to me, a few of those and I’m sitting on a porch back home.  Put that with some nicely barbecued meat and some cold iced tea and we are all set, only don’t forget the peach cobbler!

Beloved loves peach cobbler and has happily admitted to an iced tea lemonade addiction not to mention raspberry lemonade addictions as well.  He will pass on the sweet corn casseroles, biscuits and fried chicken.  And yet the man will happily consume chicken fried steak.  (He’s a bit of a work in progress but aren’t we all.)

So I fried some tomatoes, well correction Beloved had to help because lupus is lending a helping hand, the kind that makes my hands not work as well as they should.  He then crisped some bacon, made a spicy mayo and toasted buns for fried green tomato po’boys.  Or in his case bacon on a toasted bun with cheese, lettuce and regular mayo.

We settled on sweet, juicy watermelon for a snack later on.  I’m feeling a little less away from home right now and it should last for a bit.  This means tomorrow’s meals will be from different places to create a new adventure.  And judging from the way Beloved has looked at me, not to mention the visible red cheeks, Beloved will be doing all the cooking.  But it’s okay lupus will not prevent me from watching him cook and it was worth it for a taste that brought me back home for a little bit

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Autumn’s Bounty Is Prolificly Pumpkin Spice

Autumn is now the official season. Which means leaves changing colors, if they haven’t already. It means cooler temperatures, less day light in some places. It means piles of leaves to rake up and woolly sweaters toss on. It means being able to see your breath some times.

Autumn is the season of apple pies and maple flavors. And now, it is not just the season pumpkin pies, but pumpkin spice lattes. And here is my problem. You see dear readers, I think, that maybe, perhaps, we have overdone the whole pumpkin spice latte thing.

The first time a pumpkin spice latte crossed my lips it was in the form of a tiny cup, a small taste of a drink that was being considered for the seasonal feature menu. A very tiny cup, with a lot of delicious whipped cream. It seemed, that maybe, just maybe it might be okay. Until I ordered the full on real thing. In a small size. It was still too much.

Since that time it seems that the pumpkin spice movement has taken on a life of it’s own. Probably some type of mind-altering life, but still. Pumpkin spice candles are in my house. Pumpkin spice coffee creamer has been in the fridge for days now because some visitors expect this delight. Pumpkin spice air fresheners assault my sense of smell. And the list goes on.

I’d like to see pumpkin spice just go back to a more controlled, less in your face type of presence. I don’t suppose that will happen though. There must be a huge market for the stuff, given the ways we have managed to incorporate pumpkin spice into everything. Which is fine if you like pumpkin spice.

But what about those of us who no longer, or never have, liked pumpkin spice. What flavors and scents do we get to replace that particular theme? Because I know I am not alone in my need for the pumpkin craze to settle back down into it’s own little patch of things, just over there. And please let me be clear, I adore pumpkins. I love the actual pumpkins…but there is a time and a place for everything. All of autumn should not be dedicated to pumpkins and most certainly not pumpkin spice.

Picking Peppers

I’m not sure how to explain it, I have no idea what possessed me to acquire five super hot chili pepper plants. Who needs that kind of heat in their food all the time? Because let’s face it, with all five plants having at least twenty peppers on them, there is really just too much heat. And it’s not even all on my kitchen yet!

I like spicy food, I adore spicy peppers. And well I’m not the ideal person to cultivate anything in the nature of green, with some hefty assistance I can manage to take the tiny plants to mature fruit bearing wonders. So now I have my lovely plants covered in lovely peppers. What’s a girl to do?

Cook of course, make some lovely spicy dishes. So I set about preparing this and that, and cutting these peppers. These delightful little peppers.

Which is where the horrible truth comes in. Because these delightful little peppers are not a delight. They are beyond hot and spicy. They are burn your fingertips as you cut into the peppers. They are burn and melt your tongue hot.

They may, in fact, be just a hit too much for my cooking, but be that as it may, I cannot rid myself of them. I must cut them, cook with them, garnish with them be yaw elects face it, I managed to grow them. They are survivors, in spite of me. So yes I just keep them and use them. Which means if you need me, I’ll just be over here, treating some minor “boo boos”.