Sweet potato gnocchi and spicy spinach sauce

Sweet potato gnocchi

Sweet potato gnocchi

    “And because the breath of flowers is far sweeter in the air (where it comes and goes like the warbling of music) than in the hand, therefore nothing is more fit for that delight, than to know what be the flowers and plants that do best perfume the air. Roses, damask and red, are fast flowers of their smells; so that you may walk by a whole row of them, and find nothing of their sweetness; yea though it be in a morning’s dew. Bays likewise yield no smell as they grow. Rosemary little; nor sweet marjoram. That which above all others yields the sweetest smell in the air is the violet, specially the white double violet, which comes twice a year; about the middle of April, and about Bartholomew-tide. Next to that is the musk rose. Then the strawberry-leaves, dying, which yield a most excellent cordial smell. Then the flower of vines; it is a little dust, like the dust of a bent, which grows upon the cluster in the first coming forth. Then sweet-briar. Then wall-flowers, which are very delightful to be set under a parlor or lower chamber window. Then pinks and gilliflowers, especially the matted pink and clove gilliflower. Then the flowers of the lime-tree. Then the honey-suckles, so they be somewhat afar off. Of bean-flowers I speak not, because they are field flowers. But those which perfume the air most delightfully, not passed by as the rest, but being trodden upon and crushed, are three; that is, burnet, wild-thyme, and watermints. Therefore you are to set whole alleys of them, to have the pleasure when you walk or tread.”

Francis Bacon on gardens. It’s an essay in the middle of The Essays or Counsels, civil and moral, of Francis Ld. Verulam Viscount St Albans. In between essays on religion, judicature, faction and ambition, lies a beautiful little essay about gardens. It’s civil and moral discourse, because he believes it’s important to have a garden, and to attend carefully to the arrangement of it. He names every flower that will bloom every season of the year in London where he lives, and he suggests that you discover what will grow year round where you live. And then he has this lovely little section on the scent of flowers, which has such odd and particular language it reads like a poem. Secret roses that hold their smells fast? Strawberry leaves when they’re dying? Honeysuckle though it be somewhat far off? What is a little dust? What is the dust of a bent? But let us not speak of bean-flowers, because they are field flowers.

Spinach and jalapeno sauce

Spinach and jalapeno sauce

We got some sweet potatoes from the farm, and I decided to make these little baked gnocchi with them, and then some spinach sauce to dip them in. The gnocchi are based on a choux pastry batter. They’re somewhat denser than regular choux pastry, because of the sweet potatoes, but pleasantly so. I flavored them with sharp cheddar and sage, and the sauce is flavored with jalapenos, almonds and lemon.

Here’s Tom Waits with Trampled Rose.

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Roasted delicata squash over spinach white bean purée

Roasted delicata squash with spinach white bean purée.

Roasted delicata squash with spinach white bean purée.

A few times over the summer and again today, I spent some time down at the local food pantry. The thing about spending time at a local food pantry, is that everybody you meet is a remarkable person in one way or another. The people who work there, who volunteer there, who pick up food there. Once you start talking to them, you realize that they all have wonderful stories. Maybe this is true of all people, it probably is, but I felt it so strongly this morning, as I walked home through the chilly sunshine.

Through a program called Rolling Harvest, which is such a smart, giving idea that it makes me weepy, farmers donate produce, which is then distributed to food pantries, domestic violence shelters, meals on wheels, senior centers, homeless shelters and at-risk low-income adults with health challenges. And in some of these places, they have farmer’s markets…free produce for anybody who wants it. And they ask somebody to demonstrate some easy ways to cook the produce, which is where I came in.

I made a couple of things with peppers and tomatoes, lettuce and apples. But mostly I enjoyed talking to people, and most of the people who came by had plenty more recipes than I do. As they took their bags of apples and greens and hot peppers, they stopped to chat, and they were so beautifully generous. They shared stories about their lives and their children and their grandchildren. They shared recipes for apple cobbler and pickled green tomatoes, they shared advice not to cuss at doctors, but to be cheerful for any help they gave you.

One woman grew up nearby on a farm, which is now a highway. When she was little, if her family couldn’t find her they knew to look for her in the tomatoes, where she’d be sitting with a salt shaker, eating the fruit right from the plant. And her uncle would set up a big pot of boiling water in the middle of the cornfield, so as they picked they’d eat the corn as fresh as it could be eaten. She had cherries and apples and peaches, any good thing you could think of. Gleaners of fruit, gleaners of stories, gleaners of time.

Our CSA farm, Sandbrook Meadow Farm, is one that contributes produce, and all of the produce from this recipe came from there as well. Delicata squash is similar to butternut, but sweeter, lighter and easier to work with. In this instance, I roasted it and then tumbled it on top of a bed of spinach, white beans and pinenuts, which I puréed. Nice contrast of savory and sweet, soft and roasty.

Here’s the Carolina Tarheels with Got the Farm Land Blues.
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Chickpea & artichoke stew; chickpea semolina dumplings; olive pine nut sauce

olive and pine nut sauce

olive and pine nut sauce

A few years ago I threw my back out. I was just helping our old dog to stand, and she weighed nothing, she was all bones and sunken skin. And yet, somehow, in trying to help her up I pulled something or other and I couldn’t move without pain for a few days. I couldn’t walk, sit, sneeze, laugh, sleep. I felt as old and infirm as our poor dog. A couple of years later I asked a doctor about my back, because it never seemed to get completely better. She said, “You have to strengthen your core! Strengthen your core.” I’ve been thinking about this phrase a lot lately, as I struggle to do one normal sit-up. I’ve been feeling a little lost and off-kilter. Partly because the boys are back in school, I suppose. And partly because I’ve been doing something for a long time, believing it was important–at least to me. And now I’m thinking about doing something else, which also seems very important but probably isn’t and now I’m all confused, and maybe nothing seems important, so why try to do anything at all? What does important mean, anyway? What does it mean to be important? Ack. In this scattered and bewildered state, I seem to need to strengthen my core. Not my core values or affections, because those are very unvaried, they’re constant. But the core beliefs that are hard to hold onto. Viz…it’s important to understand that you’re valuable to your children and your dog, even if you don’t feel all that good about yourself. It’s important not to let discouragement paralyze you, because time is flying. Don’t let yourself judge your work by what the world rewards with awards and praise and money (have you seen what the world awards with praise and money?) It’s probably good to take a pause and look at everything from the outside, but don’t let your doubts keep you from getting back into it, when the time is ripe, don’t feel foolish about working hard on something you know you’re good at. Don’t feel foolish about giving yourself meandering pep talks while you struggle to do sit-ups!! Strengthen your core! Strengthen your core!!

Chickpea and semolina flour dumplings

Chickpea and semolina flour dumplings

What we have here is a typical, Ordinary tripartite meal. A stewy sort of mix of vegetables, which becomes croquettes the next day, and a flavorful sauce to go with the croquettes. In this case, the stew has chickpeas, leeks, tomatoes, and artichokes. We ate it with plain couscous. The next day I combined the leftover stew and couscous with semolina flour (which is what couscous is made out of!), and some eggs to make the croquettes. And the sauce has olives, goat cheese, pine nuts, and a little maple syrup. The reason it’s this pretty color is that I made it with olive oil which I had steeped with annato seeds. You don’t need to do this…you can use regular olive oil.
Chickpea, potato, artichoke stew

Chickpea, potato, artichoke stew

And that’s that!

Here’s Hold On Be Strong by Outkast. Short and to the point!

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Leeks, white beans and French feta AND smoked eggplant-couscous croquettes

Leeks, white beans, & French feta

Leeks, white beans, & French feta

Back in the days before cable, when VCRs hadn’t yet been invented, there were a few movies my brother and I would watch every single time they came on television. (Which was maybe twice.) One such movie was Breaking Away. I hadn’t thought about it much in the intervening decades, but the other night we watched it again with the boys. Well! It’s a beautiful film! It’s beautifully filmed! It’s deceptively spare and simple in a manner that hides a genius of elegance and grace, which places it in the tradition of Ozu or Rohmer. The only non-diegetic music is a continuation of the Italian songs that Dave sings in his attempt to convince the world that he’s Italian. Much of the action seems to happen off-screen, between scenes, in best Ozu fashion. An entire romance and marriage takes place, and we feel real affection for the couple, though we only see them in a few scenes, in passing. The film is about one summer in the life of four teenagers, and it’s full of the kind of latent drama underlying every teenagers’ existence. At any minute they might dash their heads on a rock or crash their car or bike, or be crushed by a truck, they might fall out with friends they love, they might tear their family apart. Any of this could happen, and if this was any other kind of movie it probably would, but here it doesn’t, and this makes it feel more real, more like life. The film glows with a flat, pale, nostalgic light, like a dream of the late seventies, of the mid-west, which people have been trying to capture since in photo filters and iPhone apps. The film is sweet, smart, funny, thoughtful; it’s about infatuation and disillusion and the return of hope. It’s about friendship and family, imperfect and enduring. It’s about freedom and escape, and finding a way to achieve these things without leaving your home. And it’s about work, which makes it a good film to discuss after labor day weekend. The fathers of our four teenage friends were cutters, they cut limestone out of the quarries, and cut them into smooth rocks to build the local university. And now all they have left is a big hole in the ground where their boys swim, and a college full of teenagers who mock their boys. At one point Dave’s dad says he wants his son to find a job and be miserable just like he was. But we know he doesn’t really want his son to be unhappy, and we know that he enjoyed his work as a cutter: he was good at it, he took pride in his work. The boys have to decide what work they’ll do when the work that made their world isn’t an option any more. They have to make their own new world. Doesn’t it remind you of Seamus Heaney’s Digging?

    Digging
    BY SEAMUS HEANEY

    Between my finger and my thumb
    The squat pen rests; snug as a gun.

    Under my window, a clean rasping sound
    When the spade sinks into gravelly ground:
    My father, digging. I look down

    Till his straining rump among the flowerbeds
    Bends low, comes up twenty years away
    Stooping in rhythm through potato drills
    Where he was digging.

    The coarse boot nestled on the lug, the shaft
    Against the inside knee was levered firmly.
    He rooted out tall tops, buried the bright edge deep
    To scatter new potatoes that we picked,
    Loving their cool hardness in our hands.

    By God, the old man could handle a spade.
    Just like his old man.

    My grandfather cut more turf in a day
    Than any other man on Toner’s bog.
    Once I carried him milk in a bottle
    Corked sloppily with paper. He straightened up
    To drink it, then fell to right away
    Nicking and slicing neatly, heaving sods
    Over his shoulder, going down and down
    For the good turf. Digging.

    The cold smell of potato mould, the squelch and slap
    Of soggy peat, the curt cuts of an edge
    Through living roots awaken in my head.
    But I’ve no spade to follow men like them.

    Between my finger and my thumb
    The squat pen rests.
    I’ll dig with it.

Eggplant couscous croquettes

Eggplant couscous croquettes

Leeks! I just love them. I treated myself to some French feta, which is milder and creamier than most fetas I’ve had. I sauteed my leeks with white beans, white wine, thyme and capers, and then I crumbled the feta on top. Delicious!! We ate it with plain couscous. And later in the week I combined the leftover couscous and white beans with eggplant roasted until smooth and smoky and pureed with smoked gouda and bread crumbs. I fried this in olive oil as little croquettes, and served them with an impromptu dipping sauce of maple syrup, dijon mustard and tomato paste.

Here’s Kimya Dawson with I Like My Bike.

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Crispy potatoes with peppers, tomatoes, and pine nut chipotle aioli

Tomatoes, yellow squash and peppers

Tomatoes, yellow squash and peppers

Every day lately, Malcolm has wanted nothing but to go to the river. The river! He wakes in the morning and thinks about walking down to the river, he wants to spend the long hot afternoon there, he wants to go back after dinner when the sinking sun makes a bright path on the darkening water. He and Clio splash in like some sort of mythical dolphin-otters, she bounds after sticks, and he dives for stones. When we walk home he’s bright and wet and barefoot, and he has an armful of rocks swaddled in his soaking shirt. Our house is full of stones! River stones, creek stones, pebbles from the seaside. Smooth black stones, dusky grey stones, pockmarked stones, and craggy striated rocks, stones that were slick and beautiful when wet, and now seem dusty and plain, but still worth keeping. We have a wooden bowl on our kitchen table spilling over with stones of every size. Our outside table is piled with stones, my desk has little heaps of small smooth pebbles, Malcolm’s desk is covered with a ruckus of rocks, and he’s got boxes heavy with many more of them. The washing machine is piled with stones from boys’ pockets. We all collect them, we all bring handfuls into the house. They seem full of meaning and life, with all their weighty calm; they’re so silent and still, but surely they hold old stories and myths and spirits inside of them. I love the cairns throughout our house, marking our paths, showing us where to go and where we’ve been, spelling our time here, commemorating our adventures; so hard to clean around, such a sweet testament to our collective madness.
stone

stones-3

stones-4

stones2

pine nut chipoptle aioli

pine nut chipoptle aioli

This meal is like a mound of stones! Well, if the potatoes were stones, and if they were covered by a fresh, juicy spicy sauce, and a smooth very tasty aioli on top! I was thinking of the tapas dish Patatas bravas when I made this. So it’s got crispy sage-roasted potatoes–I used the ones from the farm and they’re tiny, only about half an inch across. If you have larger ones, just cut them into smaller pieces. Atop this we piled tomatoes, sweet peppers, hot peppers and yellow squash–all from the farm. And my favorite part was the pine nut chipotle aioli. Simple but with a smoky haunting flavor. It would be good with any other kinds of roasted vegetables as well, I think.crispy-potatoes

Here’s Bill Evans with Milestones.

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Spicy coconut milk, cashew, & basil pesto

Coconut milk & basil pesto

Coconut milk & basil pesto

Hey, kids, it’s Saturday storytelling time! It’s summer sporadic schedule Saturday storytelling time!! As I’m sure you’ll recall, each Saturday we post a found photograph, a vernacular picture, and we write a story about it, and invite everyone else to write one, too. It’s edifying! It’s fun! It’s addictive. Here’s this week’s picture. Who is this boy and where is he going?
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As for this sauce, I’ve decided to write a cookbook called “Cement-colored sauces.” And it will probably have a chapter called “Concrete-colored dips.” I had the bright idea of putting spicy purple basil leaves in this, but somehow it all turned grey, so I added some green basil leaves, so that it looked like I’d done it on purpose. It was actually a pretty pale green by the time I was all done. And very tasty! A little sweet, a little spicy with the jalapeno, and rich and nutty with cashews. We ate this with crispy roasted eggplant and croquettes, but it would be good with any roasted vegetables, or on pasta or rice.

Here’s The Pogues with Sea Shanty.
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Semolina-pine nut crusted mushrooms and eggplant and goat cheese pesto dipping sauce

Crispy semolina-pine nut crusted mushrooms and eggplant

Crispy semolina-pine nut crusted mushrooms and eggplant

For the longest time we’ve talked about riding our bikes up the towpath to the next town to get breakfast. It’s been an adventure we would go on, someday. Well, today was that day. And a beautiful day it is, too. Seventy degrees, crisp, autumnal, sunny. In fact it was so chilly in the shade on the way out that Isaac said his legs were turning into icicles, so he pedaled extra hard to get into the sunshine. David and Malcolm rode on ahead, and I went at an Isaac’s pace. When I told him that he uses as much energy talking as pedaling, he was silent for a few moments, but when he’s silent he’s thoughtful, and then he has to talk about all of his thoughts. Why do flies like poop? Why do airplanes fly so high in the sky? Can you imagine how happy Clio will be when we get home? She’s going to lick us all over and tell us that we’re excellent. On the way out, this part of the path was all covered in shadows, and he was cold, but now it’s mostly sunny, and he’s warm. Did I recognize how much it had changed? He’s almost certainly beaten his record for farthest ever biking, but it felt like it only took a second. Didn’t it feel like it only took a second? Yes, yes it did. This whole summer felt like it only took a second. This morning we rode over dried leaves, and golden leaves fell in lazy circles all around us, spiraling around Isaac’s bright yellow helmet. A few weeks ago this path was teeming with flowers–honey suckle and wild rose–and it smelled almost unbearably sweet. Now it smelled sharp, like pine and lemon, like the tough green walnuts all over the ground. It’s only August but this morning felt like autumn, and I wondered as I always do how I can feel so much anticipation and regret all at the same time. I thought about Isaac talking and talking, and about how I know that when he’s anxious he talks more and more and his voice gets higher. And how I know that when Malcolm’s anxious he gets very quiet, and stares around with his big beautiful eyes, taking everything in. I thought about the fact that Malcolm knows why I never put anything in my right pocket, and it feels so strange that he knows something about me from my history, from before he was born. Isaac said he’s afraid of heights, and I thought about how he hasn’t ever really been anywhere very high. To him the view from David’s shoulders is dizzying. I feel like we should take him places, we should travel. But it’s nice for now that a trip four miles up the tow path is a momentous exploit.

Semolina and pine nut coated mushrooms and eggplant

Semolina and pine nut coated mushrooms and eggplant

This sauce was made by speedily combining goat cheese, milk, and pesto. And the eggplant and mushrooms were made by marinating them in olive oil, balsamic, and herbs, and then coating them with egg, and then coating them with a mixture of semolina flour and pine nuts. Deeeeelicious. I roasted them, and they got nice and crispy, but still tender inside. Even the boys liked them. We ate it as a meal with potatoes and chard, but I suppose it would make a good appetizer as well.

Here’s Sir Lord Comic with Dr. Feelgood, because we’ve been listening to it a lot lately.

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Spicy tomato coconut sauce; smoky basil pesto; collard “fettuccine”

collard fettucine with two sauces

collard fettucine with two sauces

The Hagakure is a practical and spiritual guide to warfare written by a samurai in the beginning of the 18th century. The word “hagakure” literally means “hidden by leaves,” or “hidden leaves,” and I believe this is because the writings, though seemingly about a warrior code, are filled with hidden meanings that shift and grow as you read them, as something viewed through shifting leaves and shadows. I know about the Hagakure because extracts from it are beautifully read in Jim Jarmusch’s beautiful Ghost Dog. One of my favorites is this advice for understanding a rain storm, “There is something to be learned from a rainstorm. When meeting with a sudden shower, you try not to get wet and run quickly along the road. By doing such things as passing under the eaves of houses, you still get wet. When you are resolved from the beginning, you will not be perplexed, though you will still get the same soaking. This understanding extends to all things.” Every once in a while my boys will impart some wisdom they’ve gleaned from their travels, and it feels as though they should end it, “This understanding extends to all things.” Last night before bed and this morning on our towpath walk, I peppered them with questions, and I’ve compiled a short list of their advices.

    The Way of My Boys

    When walking through a forest, always think that a tick is biting you. In this way you will know when you have been bitten by a tick. This understanding applies to all things.

    If a bee stings you but you don’t know it, it will not hurt. This understanding extends to all things.

    When swimming in a pool, if you want to touch the bottom, go slowly so that you don’t hit your head. When swimming in murky water with a bed of sharp stones, go slowly so that you don’t scrape your knees. This understanding extends to all things.

    If you want to catch a firefly, don’t pinch it, hold your hand out and let it land, so that you don’t kill it. This is true of all things.

    If you miss a friend, play with things that you learned about with him. This understanding extends to all things.

    If you’re waiting on line and your legs get tired, think about something else and the pain will go away. This applies to all things.

    If you want something very badly but can’t have it, imagine that you have it, and that will be almost as good. This applies to all things.

    When eating a plum, take a big bite, pull out the pit at once, and you can have fun eating the rest. This understanding extends to all things.

Smoky pesto

Smoky pesto

I keep picking armfuls of basil each week, and I wanted to think of something different to add to pesto, so I asked Malcolm. He suggested smoked paprika, and then we decided to add smoked gouda as well, and to roast the garlic and toast the pine nuts. It turned out very good. It’s quite a subtle flavor, but nice. And I’ve been picking lots of tomatoes, too. I had some chunky sauce left over from the day before, and I decided to mix it with some cream of coconut and spices, and then add some fresh cherry tomatoes at the end.
tomato-coconut-sauce
Bright and spicy and a little sweet. And, finally, I’ve been thinking a while about cooking collards in long ribbons, and eating them as a person might eat pasta, with a sauce (or two!) on top. I thought it turned out very very tasty. Satisfying, like pasta, but with more flavor and texture. The boys just ate soba noodles, though, which is a perfectly acceptable substitute. collard-fettuccine

Here’s Flying Birds, from RZA’s remarkable soundtrack to Ghost Dog.

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Cornmeal-spinach-goat cheese cake and chunky tomato sauce

cornmeal cake with goat cheese and spinach

cornmeal cake with goat cheese and spinach

Yesterday I foolishly went on and on about how if you Hergéed my name it became Assez, and about how much I like the word “enough.” And I closed with a joke about how Assez would make a good graffiti tag. It was all inane nonsense and probably not worthy of one post, let alone two. And yet, I’m sorry to say, today’s post is going to be a follow up. A part two. Because I became very taken with the idea of having Assez as a graffiti tag! I developed this whole fantasy in which I had a) artistic talent b) guts and gumption c) money and freedom to travel and d) the ability to stay up past ten o’clock at night, and in which I travelled the word leaving my mark. Because “enough” doesn’t just mean an amount that is right and needful, or a sufficiency. “Enough” is also a word you yell when you’re fed up with something, when something is depressing, discouraging, or just generally wrong, and you want it to stop. (You know, when you’re watching your programs, and your children are upstairs beating each other with sticks, and you don’t want to stop them right away because you don’t want to discourage their creativity or dampen their competitive spirit, but finally, the noise is just too much and you can’t hear what the people on the TV are saying so you stomp upstairs and yell, …well, you know.) I had this vision of going to all the places in the world where people are being cruel to one another or to animals, which, let’s face it, is pretty much everywhere in the world, and sneaking in at night to write ASSEZ! “Then I’ll be all around in the dark – I’ll be ever’where—wherever you look.” I’d go everywhere that people are breeding ignorance and creating hatred and suspicion to keep some poor while they themselves become rich. I’d go wherever men are waging war for profit. I’d go to all the fast food places where people are serving pink slime burgers and cover their walls with it. (“Assez” not pink slime…) I’d go to all the places where people are making dangerously stupid television programs or reporting lies as truth, and I’d write ASSEZ!! And today I went so far as to waste a ridiculous quantity of time playing with the spraypaint app on my phone. It’s not perfect, of course, because as soon as I realized how much time I’d spent thinking about it I had to sheepishly stop.
assez
But do you see what we have here? Tintin blue, of course, and golden tear-bubbles, and a glowy quality, and the same sort of font as my Atget book, and … I know, I know, that’s quite enough of that, Claire. Basta! Genug! ASSEZ!

Spicy chunky tomato sauce

Spicy chunky tomato sauce

So we came home from the farm with about ten pounds of tomatoes! We’ve been eating them for lunch every day with olive oil, basil, goat cheese and baguette. But of course I had to make a sauce! I made it light, quick, chunky and flavorful with capers, olives, herbs and a little hot red pepper. And then I made this cake to spoon it over. It’s almost like polenta, except that it has a lot more flavor and a more interesting (to me) texture. It’s soft and puddingy inside, and a little crispy on the edges. It was very easy to make–I mixed it in the processor and then poured it right in the pan to bake it. Even the boys liked it!!
Cornmeal, goat cheese & spinach cake

Cornmeal, goat cheese & spinach cake

Here’s KRS One Out for Fame, about graffiti writers.

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Spicy cherry tomato chickpea stew; oven roasted hash browns

Spicy cherry tomato chickpea sauce

Spicy cherry tomato chickpea sauce

– Au moins si l’on mangeait du pain à sa suffisance ! répéta pour la troisième fois Étienne, sans transition apparente. (“If only we had enough bread to eat,” Etienne repeated for the third time, with no apparent connection.) I’ve just started reading Germinal by Zola. I haven’t read enough of it to talk about it much (yet) but so far I like it as much as cherries. I love this exchange, in the very first conversation in the book, in which Etienne Latiner says three times, “…if only one had enough bread to eat,” with no apparent connection. And now, with no apparent connection, I’m going to tell you that Hergé (yes, that Hergé) was the pen name of Georges Remi. His initials arranged backwards (RG) and pronounced Frenchly, became Hergé. Of course, when I read this I thought about what mine would be. AC (never you mind that Claire isn’t actually my first name!) or AH SAY or … assez, enough. (French friends, correct me if I’m wrong). Well, I like the word “enough,” I like the concept. It’s not as voluptuous and joyful as “plenty,” but it seems honest and practical, “it is right or needful.” If we have enough bread to eat we can live and be content, and if we have plenty of bread we can turn it into bread pudding. Enough is just what we need, and all that we can ask. Enough money to live, enough food to eat, enough strength to carry on from day to day, and enough humor to enjoy it all. If nobody had too much, then everybody would have enough. And there’s no reason the world can’t work that way, except that to greedy and deluded people too much is never enough. Enough also means done to perfection, “Bake it in the oven, and when enough, strew Sugar again over it.” And now this essay is probably enough. I’ve said enough, and you’ve had enough of it. But when you see the graffiti tag ASSEZ all over the world, you’ll know where it came from.

Oven-roasted hash browns

Oven-roasted hash browns

We picked enough cherry tomatoes at the farm to last for weeks! There was “no limit” on what we could pick, and the four of us collected a beautiful pile of jewelly tomatoes, bright and sweet and perfect. I decided to make them into a sauce with chickpeas, because it’s sweet that they’re nearly the same size. I cooked half of the tomatoes until they were soft and stewy, and saved half to the end, to add their bright freshness. I seasoned this with smoked paprika, ginger and cinnamon and topped it with fresh basil, chives and parsley. I thought it was pretty and tasty! We also got a lot of potatoes and fresh herbs from the farm, and I had the idea of grated them and tossing them with together with olive oil, and roasting them till crisp. These sort of oven-roasted hash browns made a nice base for the saucy tomatoes and chickpeas.

Here’s earworm extraordinaire Just Can’t Get Enough by Depeche Mode.

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