Comfort food

The other day I was so aggravated over the news – don’t get me started – that I was threatening to destroy myself with pie.  Upon reflection, this seemed to me to be a poor solution.  I would not affect the doings of the Rapacious Robber Barons in the least, and I would do myself some damage.  I thought again, piled the dogs in the car, and headed out into the day. 

We went to the library over in Central Lake, which is dog-friendly when not crowded, and exchanged pleasantries with Carol Stoutjesdyk and Dick Williams.  We stopped at King’s for sweet corn, Sanza apples, and more pleasantries with John King.  We stopped at Providence Farm to pick up our CSA share and – you guessed it – more pleasantries with Ryan and Andrea Romeyn.  Things were looking up considerably. 

We made a side trip to the Day Park and admired Torch Lake, which was showing to best advantage.   This brought us conveniently close to Sonny’s, where we found-oh joy!-Swedish breakfast sausages.  (I am passionately fond of Sonny’s Swedish sausage.  It’s pathetic, really.)  Chris and Sonny had taken the day off, but we exchanged pleasantries with Lori Williams and headed home with our stash.  Here is what we had for our supper, all of it grown or made within five miles of our house, all of it as fresh as fresh can be: Sweet corn, steamed gently; red and yellow tomatoes, sliced thickly; creamy potatoes, roasted with garlic; grilled sausages . . . and a slice of pie. 

Miss Sadie points out that “we” is employed loosely, as she herself had kibble for supper, with the merest dab of potato and sausage as garnish.  The Cowboy got into the tomatoes and helped himself to some pie before he was discovered, so he was sent to the dog room without sausage.  Miss Puss-well, you know how she is.  But I certainly enjoyed myself.  Here, in celebration of Antrim’s sweet bounty, is another picture of my produce.