Harvest

In my part of the world early November is a time of harvest.  Everywhere I drive the evidence remains of farmers completing the chore of bringing in the sheaves.  No, it's not the quaint nostalgic picture of twine-bound stalks of corn or woven baskets filled with seed heads.  Harvest time here is a matter of massive machinery on the roads and lights on well after dark both at the machine shed and out in the fields.  Grain is being brought to grain elevators in small communities all around Champaign County this week.  At the same time many crops are simply tilled under due to drought and hail damage which did them in.  There is an uncertainty inherent in the lives of those who measure time against an anticipated day of harvest.

My growing season was much more modest by comparison.  Two 4' x 8' raised beds housed a small assortment of herbs and vegetables this year.  It was fun to eat fresh lettuce, cut broccoli, pluck peppers and to pull leaves of parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme from the garden to spice up what I came to call "Scarborough Fair Chicken."  Thank you Simon and Garfunkel.  By far, though, my most plentiful crop was tomatoes.  Through the summer they were red and vine-ripened in abundance.  With the threat of frost it was finally time last week to harvest the remaining green tomatoes and pull up the plants.  So I did.

Now what?

The point of Nothing New November is to live in contentment with the abundance at my fingertips.  As this counter overflowing with green tomatoes begins to look to me like a sea of pinched alien faces glaring in judgment over my indecisiveness, it has become clear I must soon take action.  I have read articles about Eastern Europeans' enthrallment with green tomatoes and now have an assortment of recipes at my fingertips.  But what to do?  Sweet breads?  Savory butters?  What to do?

Stay tuned ...