Such a splendid Sunday

The gramps picked Jack and Ol up at 10 this morning and headed off to the Nationals' last home game of regular season. The boys were dressed in the "official Nats uniforms" they got at Nats camp this past summer and the plan was to go early in the hopes of getting an autograph voucher. They missed that but romped delightedly on the stadium playground for hours and ate a wide array of ballpark food. So much in fact that pretty much as soon as Jack stepped in tonight, just after 6p, he threw up everywhere. Horrid, stinky piles of what looked like upchucked chili. Maternal adrenaline is a good thing because that was disgusting. After the first hurl -on our bedroom floor- he managed to get his pants off. Then, rolling around the carpeted hall, moaning about how he would NEVER eat junk food again unless it was a holiday, he booted for the second time. Between that one and finally taking his shirt off and making it to the toilet, he asserted that birthdays do not count as holidays, a declaration I found baffling.

Poor kid. I drew him a hot bath and got him some seltzer and a couple Tums. When I asked him what he'd eaten he replied, "two hot dogs, Dippin Dots, cotton candy, Orange Crush..." It was revolting, but I dare say he's learned his lesson. He actually learned it once before, during his 100th-day-of-school celebration when he was three. He ate about 400 chocolate chips. When I picked him he said he felt awful and furious and would never overeat dessert again. He hasn't even come close, until today, which I think was really just way too much crap in way too short a time. Like I said, I think he's learned.

In the meantime, I went to the farmers market and then spent several hours cooking and having a solo dance party/concert as T had to work. It was great. I made a double batch of spiced rhubarb-apple butter and some roasted tomato jam, froze a bunch of fresh raspberries and shelled a ton of borlotti beans. I can never get over just how pretty they are.

Peach cobbler has been calling my name, and since I had to use up a half-dozen from last week's market, I decided to get right to it. That'd make a fine dessert for dinner. We had some King salmon I needed to use, and I'd bought some gorgeous okra and arugula this morning too. An embarrassment of riches, really. And the foundation for quite a fine meal.

I love grilled okra, especially when you've got a steel bin full of good wood chips adding a bit of smokey flavor to the chopped pods. I'd tossed these with olive oil, garlic, red pepper flakes, lemon juice and salt, and then later, T made a drizzling oil spiked with chili powder and champagne vinegar that was awfully nice.

I oven-roasted the salmon but first spread some fresh rhubarb-apple butter on top as salmon and apples go so very well together. Sa.tis.fying!

Spectacular Sunday morning

It is such a beautiful day today; chilly enough for a light sweater and jacket but sunny and crisp. Oliver and I went to the farmers market together for the first time in weeks which was such a treat. Apples are everywhere, romanesco cauliflower has arrived in all its Euclidean glory, the carrots are spectacular, and I splurged on a carton of irresistible mushrooms. We felt inspired!

I'm taking the boys to Imagination Stage, a local children's theater, to see Lulu and the Brontosaurus in a couple hours, and Jack has a baseball game later. I think we're going to screen a movie right now- a good break for all.

Cranberry beans

Here are the shelled beans from the mess of magenta-specked pods I posted about earlier. Aren't they striking? I often imagine them to be tiny birds' eggs, some relative of the robin as these as lovely as are the Tiffany blue of Mr. Red Breast's eggshells. As I mentioned, they do turn an unfortunate, uniform shade of gray when cooked, but they hold up well and have a terrifically firm yet smooth and creamy texture.

The cranberry bean originated in Colombia, there known as the cargamanto. Italians bred a form of this, the borlotti, that has a thicker skin. Neato food history, eh?