We stood out in the garage and swayed with the wind this afternoon. When we began comparing radar, because that’s romance to us apparently, we found a dark red blob bearing down on us from the west and another coming down from the north.
Web stuff today. Working on a site for someone, which is coming along nicely, thank you for asking, and on my own stuff. I added four pages to the War Eagle Moments blog. Just click the little buttons at the bottom, there, and you can see all the neat Auburn stories from our many recent adventures.
Then the cat said stop.
And so I did, for a while.
Grilled steaks tonight. We had some New York Strips just dying to be eaten, so we obliged them. We’d picked them up from the meat lab some time back for $13. We also had okra, fresh from yesterday’s farmers’ market on campus and right off the farm.
I did not take a picture of the okra, because okra is shy. But the eggplant, now that’s a vegetable that loves the camera:
The eggplant, I’ve just learned, was once thought to be a love potion. In Europe it was once believed to cause insanity.
Okra, for its part, is thought to originate in Ethiopia, and came to the Caribbean and the U.S. in the 1700s, probably brought by slaves from West Africa, and was introduced to Western Europe soon after.
If anyone ever tells you that you don’t know where that food came from, now you can set them straight.
But I digress. There was a lot of pressure on this meal. The Yankee said if she botched the okra again — she’s just learning to make it, and it is a delicate thing — that she was retiring. No one wants this; okra is awesome. The first time she made it was quite good. And then there was too much salt. The next time far too much pepper. And then back to too much salt again.
Tonight the okra was fresh and crisp and just right.
Our veggies will live to be eaten another day.
