I’m tiptoeing into Fall. The last few mornings there’s been more of a chill in the air, but the afternoons are still warm. I'm still wearing flip-flops, but with long sleeve t-shirts. My cherry tomato in a hanging pot is in its second wind. This is when we keep our fingers crossed for one last push. Last night’s pasta carried that forward. Summer's Lite Brite punches of heirloom tomato and basil were left behind, making way for the earthiness of mushroom. We (er, I) haven’t quite given ourselves (read: myself) over entirely to the autumn, but this mushroom ragu was a first tentative step.
I’m tiptoeing into Fall. The last few mornings there’s been more of a chill in the air, but the afternoons are still warm. I'm still wearing flip-flops, but with long sleeve t-shirts. My cherry tomato in a hanging pot is in its second wind. This is when we keep our fingers crossed for one last push. Last night’s pasta carried that forward. Summer's Lite Brite punches of heirloom tomato and basil were left behind, making way for the earthiness of mushroom. We (er, I) haven’t quite given ourselves (read: myself) over entirely to the autumn, but this mushroom ragu was a first tentative step.