Maybe you have the same dream I do: living in a commune of sorts, with food production a priority and civilization within walking distance.
It occurred to me last night that I’m living the dream.
The Annex garden has been put to bed and the bushels of tomatoes in various degrees of ripeness bequeathed to the 14 Curtis kitchen, along with some apples from a previous day trip. It became my job to figure out how to feed the community with our bounty.
Apparently, the only thing anyone ever thinks to do with green tomatoes is fry them. There aren’t a lot of traditional dishes to re-interpret, my preference in all things. Instead I found reference to a green tomato soup, on a message board with some not altogether encouraging reviews.
Regardless, I knew I was dealing with tomatoes that spanned the color spectrum from chartreuse to crimson, so I’d surely be able to find some balance and others lacked.
My shopping list:
Smokey kielbasa from the Polish deli.
Crusty french bread from the bakery.
Spanish cheese from the cheese shop.
A crisp NZ white from the wine shop.
After returning from my visit to the baker, vintner, and monger, I started a veggie stock, sauteed the kielbasa with a couple minced onions, and added the now chopped tomatoes to stew, followed by a couple tins of beans.
Throughout the evening neighbors and friends stopped by with wine, books, and stories. We each adjusted our bowls of soup to the likings of our palates with creme fraiche and sriracha, until we moved on to the free form apple tart as it came bubbling from the oven.
Who needs to move to rural Maine or the French countryside? The dream is alive right here and now.
Goat anyone? 