Green Tomato Cake. Who knew? I'll be baking up some of this yumminess tomorrow to use up the bags and bags of green tomatoes we have. Damn the frost, which cares not a hoot for Your BloomingtonGirl and her poor overworked Kitchen Frau Hands.
Today, Chris and I chopped about 12 pounds of green tomatoes, green peppers, red peppers, onions and cabbage for Linton Hopkins' ChowChow relish, one of the vehicles for the tiresome green tomatoes. Hopkins' ChowChow is amazing and delicious - I've made it a few times before - but the prep work is a %$!@#, if you know what I mean.
We were short on red bell peppers from our garden so we used some red hot peppers that we had. I donned gloves for that portion of the chopping but the right glove apparently had a hole in it and my right palm is ON FIRE. If I were an adolescent boy in Catholic school, I'd think I were being punished for you know what and going straight to hell.
In other news, this weekend has been a whirl of all sorts of things wifely and maternal. Jack had his birthday sleepover last night. Five 11-ish year old boys arrived mid-afternoon yesterday and were picked up late morning today. I'm happy to report that a great time was had by all of the boys. I'm not surprised but not happy to report that as soon as everyone left, Jack had a complete and profound meltdown. This happens every time after a sleepover and each time it happens (which is, I remind you, EVERY TIME) Chris and I say we aren't going to allow another sleepover , and then we forget - well, I forget, more accurately and allow one - and the cycle continues. Jack really throws himself into the day-after-sleep-deprived-let-down-from-all-the-excitment "fit", having inherited, unfortunately, Your BloomingtonGirl's impressive TEMPER. For those of you who haven't experienced my temper first hand, you'll just have to take it on faith that when Your BloomingtonGirl gets really angry, it ain't pretty. My daughter Meg once said, "When you get mad, you can be a scary little person." I wish this weren't the case and I really, really (reallyreallyreally) wish that Jack had not inherited this gene, but if wishes were horses....
I suspect that being a woman of a certain age, hormones are playing a role in my volatility, but I've been like this since I was a little kid. A very wise person characterized me once with that little rhyme...
"There once was a girl with a curl in the middle of her forehead.
When she was good, she was very, very good.
And when she was bad she was horrid!"
Good thing I'm a good cook and that good food is very (VERY) important to my husband. Otherwise, he might not overlook my fits quite as much, right?
Okay, it's late and time for bed. I have to get up early and can CHOWCHOW and make Green Tomato Cake. (Every now and then, I read these sentences and am rather shocked and amazed that Your EAST COAST BloomingtonGirl is living in the HeartLand canning things and making cakes from garden vegetables. I just felt the need to point out that occasional disconnect.)
Nighty Night, Loyal Readers.