Had to go back to Table & Vine since local blueberry wine doesn't go with anything.
Tried to score some Sylvia but every time I asked somebody about it they just looked
at me strangely. Even up in BRATTLEBORO where everyone is strange, no dice on the Sylvia.
So tonight, soup of tomatoes I canned personally in September, potatoes I bought here in
Southampton from Bashista, onions, from Hatfield, herbs from my little
plant, dying on the sill and littering stems and leaves like so much
shake at the bottom of a bag of pot and a big, glass of red wine,
recommended by Robert Parker but not so great. Some corn
bread, yet again, made with corn from the food bank in Hadley that the
bare-footed Michael ground on his bike, butter, outsider butter but
you can only drive to Hadley so much, and really delicious, yet
preciously priced cheddar from Smithfield cheese people here in
western MA. and macoun apples from Rt. 5 in CT.
The cornbread is out of the oven and being slathered with the butter
as I write this. The cheese is nice with the wine and really, at the
end of the day, as investment bankers say, for whom, especially now,
it's always the end of the day, life is good on this diet. I eat an
apple slice, also part of the pre-dinner snack, a macoun gleaned from
a place in Connecticut where most of the food is cheap and old and
local and really plentiful. It's one of those places, like Maple Farm,
in Hadley, where the inventory is random. On one day there's lots of
turnips, say, in the case of this CT place on Rt. 5 and on another day
there are local figs. They're right next to the Turkish candy.
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