leggo my pesto

                                                                    i and basil

                                                                          i primp basil
                                                                          

                                                                       
                                                               i sweat from pesto

                                               
                                                 out of focus creating discomfort for the eyes
                                                   

                                                        
                                          can you tell this is my mother? she holds the cookbook
                                                                     where the recipe is..

                                                     each container represents how many
                                                     batches we made. seven batches, my
                                                                      hungry friends.

                                                           this is a moon pie. i split it with
                                                   my father. and right now it looks like a butt
                                                                      crack.




                                                                  
                                                  

betta bruschetta

for the title of my blog to rhyme you really must enunciate the "t"s and match the syllables up.

emily and i were hanging around the java house the other day. it was a particularly funny time at the java house because there was a man sitting by us that insisted to butt in (is it but or butt because i don't really know but i think it should be butt because it's kind of an asshole move. yeah i was really straining to say ass). insisted to ass in. oh now that changes things..okay (continued)on every conversation and, in short, had to give him little geography lessons. i'm not saying that man was stupid because he didn't know that the indian ocean wasn't where the boundary waters is.

we left java house after picking and poking a muffin for the past hour or so. There was a time when that muffin tasted good.  Says Emily.

In the end good geography saved us because Emily lived about a block away from the java house and that’s where we decided to make bruschetta.

Bruschetta makes you feel old it makes you feel fresh it makes you feel funky. old funky-fresh. Hyphenating that word makes me think of a very ripe fart. Well, there was goat cheese.

Bruschetta with goats:

white bread from the bread garden market, if you are so familiar.
cut up 3 pieces of bread in little squares. 4 per slice.
Olive oil.
Spices, crazy spices.
Drizzle olive oil over the bread and like sprinkle on your favorite spices

Cook in the oven at, oh-350? That sounds reasonable. We didn’t really time it and it was very appropriately burned/crispy.

Dice tomato and onions, put in a bowl and spoon on a dollop of red pasta sauce to give it some umf. Put a little bit of your spices in that mixture too if you’d like. This is where good geography saved us again because we didn’t have an onion but we had brad 

who was very pleased to go over the bread garden to fetch an onion in the thick of things because we work on a very tight schedule.

Spread on goat cheese the sides of the bread without the spices, and spoon on the tomato-onion-pasta sauce mixture. 

Eat. Have a beer or wine too perhaps! Emily had crazy skull glasses so maybe you’d like finding those?


i think i may have used too much geography for emily's sake.