We planted an apple tree out front three years ago, and this year it fruited. In fact,there was so much fruit on it that the branches bowed down to the ground, and I worried for the health of the tree. Other apples were falling off. I decided to salvage what I could and just left a few apples up on the tree to see how they ripen. I thought that I could treat the green, unripe apples like crabapples and make hot apple jelly with some chilis I had in the fridge.
And so I did that last night. I put a whole, dried chili in the jar a la Oded Schwartz in his book Preserving. I gave a spoonful to D last night, and it took a minute before the heat hit his tongue, but then I heard the "oh!"
This morning (still going out just as it gets light) I brought in the garlic that I had curing out there in the hot, hot sun. The kitchen smells like how our next door neighbor's house used to smell. Mrs. Gashina lived next door in a double-sized lot, and she gardened her whole yard intensively. She and her husband made wine, and even her apple streudel tasted like garlic because everything in Mrs. Gashina's house was infused with garlic. I used to love it when she'd take her gray hair out of her bun and brush her hair upside down, down to the floor. She'd swoop back up, and it would be standing out to her sides, and she'd cackle like a happy witch.
Feeling a little blue today, overwhelmed by summer and hormones, worrying about things I can't seem to fix.