this and that

Spring...
In those first few days of warming weather, shoots and leaves begin to sprout in shades of green so vibrant they seem, well, almost...un-natural. While I'm plunking radish seeds into damp, freshly-tilled soil, a few rows over the sorrel and arugula are already making good on last year's investments. Tarragon stretches upward at an alarming pace and the chives already have their pretty purple blossoms. Tiny, perfectly ruffled burnet leaves appear, the oregano is a small bush on it's own , and that mint - it may just devour every living thing in its path this year... (I'm thinking mojitos and raita, tea and summer rolls are going to be abundant this summer) While these old friends are taking off, I've been snipping away - a little of this, a little of that - to eat, tumbled together in the salad bowl. Tossed with fingers, sprinkled with toasted sesame, a slight Parmesan dusting, and a drizzle of dressing - spring is here; get it while the getting's good!

greens for breakfast

We've been eating our greens.
By the basketful.
Repeatedly.
For a few weeks now.
Even for breakfast.
I love it.
After a leisurely cup of coffee (tea, if you like), stroll through the dewy grass out to the garden - basket, bucket, or apron folds in tow. Stand in the doorway to breathe in the last of the cool air before the humidity sets in. Stroll over to the spinach rows and pinch a few handfuls of the shiny leaves. Cross the center (tomato alley) to the back corner to steal a bit of baby sorrel, then head for the door, pausing to snag the smallest of the borage leaves, tucked deep in the center of each plant (they grow so quickly!).
Spin, spin, spin the leaves almost completely dry after a good rinsing and set them down while you fetch three garlic scapes (spring onions are good too) from the fridge. Heat a large wok, or deep pan over medium heat and drizzle in a bit of olive oil to warm while you chop the scapes. Toss them in and stir them about while you reach for the greens with your other hand. Begin to add the leaves in fistfuls, stirring in between to wilt them and make room for the next bunch. Sprinkle a pinch of salt into the mix, and when the greens have all just wilted take the pan off the heat.
Pull the one remaining clean dish from the cupboard and spoon a good helping of last night's beans (re-heated) next to a pile of the garlicky greens. Finish the greens with a sprinkling of smoked paprika and a dash (or three) of hot sauce, if you dare.
Sit, contented, and ponder how to spend the remainder of the day.