Many things happened this weekend:
Yesterday, I cooked down $20 worth of tomatoes into 5 quarts of spaghetti sauce and a gallon of tomato juice.
technolope and capital_l made the trek down from Boston, and we went to a pick-yer-own apple farm. While there, we reveled in the pumpkin field (so orange!), and picked about 20lbs of apples. Then, we drove down to near Newport to wander around in a corn maze. Good times all around.
We came back to the house, ravenously hungry, and cooked salmon (sea salt / garlic / rosemary / basil crust), and mac and cheese for dinner. After dinner, the four of us rendered the apples into applesauce. We’ve got 12 pints put up. We would have had an additional quart, but the jar’s bottom came off as we set it in the water to process. This left us with a somewhat unstable column of applesauce in the center of a pot of boiling water, sitting on broken glass. Not a great scene. We managed to rescue maybe half of that quart with a ladle and a pair of spoons.
Also took possession of a refrigerator. My friend Dan is tearing his kitchen apart, and brought it over. technolope and I wrestled it into the basement, in open defiance of basic principles of geometry.
As a reward, I poisoned him with my beer.
No wait, hear me out: I’ve got this batch of beer in the keg. I poured two glasses, we both took a hearty swig, and shortly thereafter we both felt distinctly unhappy in the guts. Nothing serious, but it was enough that neither of us took another sip for maybe half an hour. After that, I went out on a limb and asked if he was feeling the same gastrointestinal unease that I was. Since it was just the two of us, and had started immediately after the beer … I blame said beer. I’m looking for possible explanations here.
I am so not looking forward to driving to Woburn tomorrow.
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