A few months ago, a man on his way to visit my neighbor Stuart stopped in front of my house to admire my crown of thorns plant. Stuart later asked me if his friend could have a clipping to start his own bush. I told him to go for it.
Then to reciprocate, about a week later Stuart’s friend left some sort of potted succulent on my front lawn. I wasn’t crazy about the plant — it’s kinda ugly — but since it was a gift, I decided to let it stick around for awhile.
To my delight, a few weeks later, rosemary randomly started growing from the same pot. I love a good BOGO, so I decided the rosemary and its ugly half-brother could stay.
My current situation: I’m working from home, and it’s 2 p.m., and I haven’t showered today. I need to put clean sheets on Norah’s bed because, God bless her, she peed through her diaper last night. I also have two freelance stories and a hotel review due by 5.
At this point in my day, grocery shopping is out of the question. And I rarely order in. It’s just not my thing.
But a quick pantry and garden raid manifested this tasty meal:
The first time I tasted chard, I was in grad school. I was studying Spanish education, and my supervising teacher, Carmel, invited me to her house for dinner.
A pack of energetic corgis greeted me at the door, and then Carmel, her husband and I sat down to a dinner of… something.
Actually, I can’t remember the entree.
But I sure remember the vegetable: rainbow chard. I’d never seen it before, and I silently panicked because my desire to be polite was butting up against my abhorrence for all things green.
Politeness won out, and I lifted a tiny forkful of chard into my mouth. To my surprise, I actually liked it.
You either love cilantro, or you hate it. I happen to love it, but I don’t love buying it. Storing fresh herbs is a race against time.
Case in point: We’re having a cold snap here in Florida (if you consider 50 degrees cold), and this vegetable curry dish would really hit the spot. The recipe calls for only two tablespoons of cilantro, and I’m all about saving money and I feel weird about buying cilantro in a tube. Normally, I would plan all our family’s meals around the leftover cilantro, but that’s the tail wagging the dog.
I decided to try a method I’d read about on theKitchn: freezing fresh herbs in olive oil. Cilantro and oil tend to be partners in crime anyway, so it just makes sense.