I had a bumper crop of Sage last fall. It seemed such a waste to just let it die off as winter approached and, as you might know, I have an issue with “wasting” herbs. (see my “Herb Preserve” post to see how far I’ve gone to save some herbage)
Anyway, I noticed the trend of frying herbs about 2 years ago and hadn’t yet experimented with this idea until last fall.
HOLY HELL! Monsanto is at it again… Read this:
We just found out that “after years of bureaucratic wrangling, Secretary Vilsack and the Obama administration are only days away from approving Monsanto’s genetically modified (GMO) alfalfa. If approved, GMO alfalfa will fundamentally undermine the entire organic industry overnight. In addition, the USDA says American consumers don’t care about the contamination of organics.
Please join us in calling on Secretary Vilsack and President Obama to stand up for organic family farmers by rejecting the approval of Monsanto’s GMO alfalfa. Tell them to protect organic integrity and seed biodiversity over corporate profits.”
Go here and make your voice heard. It will only take a short second to save generations of Organic Farmers crops and livelihoods. DO IT!
It began innocently enough, I had bought a couple netted bags of brussel sprouts, then came the net bag of small red potatoes. Next thing I knew it was clementine season and those little citrus gems came in a little net bag as well. And I couldn’t or wouldn’t throw the colorful bags away. They had to be good for some reuse, right?
Well, right on I was, one night at my kitchen sink…you see, I have a metal scrubby that I happily use on my stainless steel pots and pans, but I had nothing similar to scrub up my more delicate cookware. Until I started to look at that metal puff sitting there on my soap dish. Its construction seemed simple…layers of netted metal all rolled into a neat donut. Read More
When I was growing up, I remember my mom would always make the comment that a little dirt was good for you. She would usually say this when something would hit the floor for a few seconds, say a hot dog in the backyard or when my brother would put some dirt in between my sandwich when my back was turned and I came crying to her. She always said, “We came from the ground and that we would go back to the ground so the ground would make us stronger.” She also survived the Great Depression, living in a tent in the Dust Bowl of Arizona after her mother died, so I don’t doubt her. This got me thinking about dirt and how it’s made, which made me think about composting, and how I used to be afraid to compost.