Not every writer has talent that is limited to writing. As I asked KP, when she commented favorably on one of my non-commercial talents (no, I will not tell you which one) , "Why does it seem the least bit strange that the creativity that drives me [to distraction sometimes) should slop over into areas other than writing and photography?" Slop over it does. This fine morning, in the sad absence of KP, the slop is slopping over in the kitchen. All day... (Idle hands are the Devil's playthings.)
I harvested my window box of basil, whipped it in the blender with some water and am freezing the basil slush into ice cubes to pop into sauces this winter. I am also using some basil in the pasta sauce I have on the stove with the last of my garden tomatoes and peppers.
I mixed some bread to rise and rest overnight for baking on Sunday or Monday.
The venison steaks are thawing. I will roast them smothered with the wild mushrooms I harvested on the way back from my last five mornings of unsuccessful deer hunting. I am beginning to suspect the deer have all migrated to Florida, not wanting to face another Ontario winter like last year's.
Chocolate chip cookies (yes, the grand prize-winning recipe I used for the Ilderton Fair) are next up on my cooking agenda.
Oh, right, I forgot to mention Michael Ondaatje. I hear he makes a fine puff pastry.
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