Tomato and Olympic gold

People, having a sunny yard is such a win when you're an ever-hopeful gardener! I dare say I've had a mostly green thumb this summer, an accomplishment I attribute primarily to sun and soil amendments. Daily, my jackpot is a thrill.

The boys spent the night at a friend's house on Friday, and I realized their absence would be a good time to use up all remaining small-breed tomatoes as were starting to feel snowballed. 

A low and slow roast with some olive oil, garlic and thyme fit even the bill of a sweltering day, and with marinated sheep/goat cheese and toasted baguette, well, suffice it to say, that we feasted. 

The next day I made some celery leaf aioli for some chicken salad, and my T served this gorgeous, accidental-art latte to me. The Olympics continue to thrill (Phelps, Ledecky, Bolt?!?!?!), Christoph Waltz is a commercial delight, and the kids return to camp tomorrow. 

Watch this for a smile, and a bit more love if you're already a Waltz fan. 

Richly hued Monday

Despite the shroud of gray accompanied by intermittent bursts of rainfall outside , my home inside is a richly hued one. It is quiet and still, with only the hum of the oven whispering solemnly in the background. On occasion, Percy might snore or Nutmeg adjust nap position, but otherwise, we are a mute, peaceful bunch making our way through a tired Monday. I am grateful for this, as I am for the happy array of farmers market flowers on my table -bright and white snapdragons, stalks of wild mint, ever-elegant hydrangeas, a few stems of bee balm from my own yard, some graceful white blooms whose name I can't remember- and for the beautiful bounty of produce with which I've been working all morn.

I bought a flat of sour cherries yesterday because one never knows how many weeks they'll make an appearance in the farmers stalls; it's never for long. I sometimes wish I were ambidextrous because then I could face them armed with a cherry pitter in each hand, perhaps making my way through the pitting process a bit more quickly. Alas, I am not, and anyway, it's such a lovely, meditative act when you can sit and just do it at a pace that suits you in those moments. And to think of the jam, pies, cheesecake topping and all else that will literally be the fruit of my labor.

A tart sounded divine for tonight's meatless meal, and so I began by making and chilling a crust and then slow-roasting some tomatoes in a low oven.

Meanwhile I ran to the market and while there picked up some farmers cheese. Chives, basil, parsley, an eggy blend, some of the farmers cheese and pecorino...I can't wait to eat this and bring some to the grands later today. I was absolutely smitten by the colorific mix of the herbs atop the tomatoes so paused mid-cheese to snap these.