Melons, Mint and Honey

Since the last post I have purchased six pounds of local flour in plastic bags with a fat Full Belly Farm Buddha label on each one. I bought local salt from a woman who swam to an island off the coast of Mendocino and harvested it herself. "I'm Trish," she said reaching out her hand. She was half mermaid, half lumberjack and I fell in love with her immediately.

I have cooked and froze some pounds of cling peaches. "The O'Henry's are not fiberous enough," the farmer schooled me. I purchased orange cauliflower in Pt. Reyes and have not had time to make zucchini pancakes with the six different varieties we received in last weeks farm bag from Canvas Ranch.

I have been camping for two days with my god-daughter and her mom at Samuel P. Taylor Park eating Full Belly Farm melon, mint and honey for dinner at the campfire. I have sailed sideways in the bay for the first time with the cute guy eating poppy seed muffins and double lattes before we left the dock. Life is so good.

The biggest news though is I've lost my favorite eating buddy. The cute guy has been put on a diet by his acupuncturist, the woman from Hades, we are fondly calling her. He can eat nothing but proteins, rice and vegetables.

"Except Sundays," he improvised as we reunited and he finished off his latte.

The salt and flour are off limits, as are beans; good-by Rancho Gordo! I am going to have to eat all the melons and grapes on the market myself; all the eggs and locally made butter. Tomato sandwiches are out, cheese is out, potatoes, corn; no posole. He can't even eat an apple. All those beautiful heirloom and bright pink apples. What am I going to do?

I hope this is good for him because he's missing a bunch of the summer harvest fun.