Green Tomatoes

Caramelized onion and red pepper, roasted ripe tomatoes. Cooking on a single hot plate, in another skillet, brown green tomatoes using the great cornmeal from Logan Turnpike Mill. It's rained all day, non-stop, sometimes hard, and I figured I could read at the island and cook. I'd bought a Riesling wine, though I almost never buy white wine, because it was miss-priced (one of guys at the in-house liquor store had told me) and it works well for de-glazing the skillets, adding a touch of sweetness. This is a restaurant quality meal, Green Tomato Marinara. And mushrooms, I forgot the mushrooms. There was a package of large mushrooms, and I scooped them out, leaving a shell, I used the mushroom meat in the marinara (excellent, it just dissolved into the sauce) and toasted the skins, with a thin layer of pulp, for a taco experiment. I shaped them into a taco shape by toasting them between an apparatus I fabricated using two dowels and four rocks. Made this little thing, on a cookie sheet, that looked like a set of parallel bars for mice. So, with the Green Tomato entree, one serves these extremely attractive mushroom shells stuffed with avocado, garlic, and shallots. The crowd explodes, they hadn't seen it coming. I hadn't seen it coming, and I made the damn things. I started drinking the wine early, as soon as I opened the bottle. I was a little high. I'd stopped reading and I was listening to Robert Johnson on the headset unit, drumming on the island with a pair of dowels I keep in one of the utensil jars. There are three utensil jars, one for Kim's spoons, and two others; I don't know why there are a pair of dowels, except that they prove useful. I don't remember why I put them there, maybe to drum on the island. I tend to collect interesting rocks, especially worked pieces, I had four axe heads and two dowels. I imagined a set of parallel bars. Until I send this, even after I send this, I'm one of the few people ever to eat avocado in baked, taco-like, mushroom skins. This deserves a foot-note. I made one of these with bacon, egg, and bitter greens, and it was wonderful. This could be my niche, green tomatoes and mushroom skins. Rained for fourteen hours and I know the bottoms are flooded. The heirs of Boone Coleman, having planted the sweeping bottoms where the Scioto comes into the Ohio, will be paid for their failed crop. Failure, I think, should be its own reward. I was never paid for not growing cotton; but I did watch some very wealthy farmers fail to grow wheat. Failing was actually easier, because you didn't have to burn so much diesel fuel. More time to hang around the hardware store and bitch about the government. Where do you draw the line on who you bail out? Even the best foundations are corrupt to the core. It's all about who's on the board and what wine you serve at the benefit. Spare me the bullshit. A billion dollars for Nepal? I will absolutely guarantee at least some blankets for some of the people that are close by; we hired an independent contractor, to take more blankets, out where they were needed, but they were very expensive, it cost $42,000 per blanket, the shipping costs were killer. At some point, Mary Lou Coleman, "Miss Soybean", a very attractive woman, was pleading on CNN for more money. Back when I had a phone, nudge, nudge, giggle, giggle, I might have pledged a few dollars. Now I know it's all a ruse. Of course the Red Cross is corrupt, what the fuck was I thinking? Better I should buy stock in a shit pile island, off the coast of Peru. Bird shit, like gold, retains its value. I might have some bird-shit, what's it worth to you? Bananas ripen after they're picked, as do rock-hard avocados, I'll throw in a couple of turtles, if it might sweeten the pot, and we could negotiate a settlement. Manslaughter instead of Murder One. Three meals a day and a private toilet? Are you kidding me?