YOU PUT A SPELL ON ME (7/07)

Just to give you a clear idea of how much Wimberley has me in its thrall now, consider this. John completely blew me away this past October by surprising me with seasons tickets to the musicals in Houston. That is probably the most outstanding gift I ever got - especially because it was his own idea, with no hints from me. I enjoy all types of theatre, but musicals most of all. In fact, I think life should be more like musicals, with people bursting into song at the drop of a hat. So why did we only make it to about half of the performances? Because it meant staying in Houston instead of coming to Wimberley. We were supposed to go see "Sweet Charity" this weekend. It was the final show of the season, and one that I had never seen, but John was getting anxious about the repair work that needs to be done on the inside of the house when, or if, they get the new roof on, and there were some things he needed to take care of first. I saw that as the perfect excuse to give away our theatre tickets and come to Wimberley instead. And what could I do here that could possibly be more fun that getting all dressed up and going out for a fine meal and a musical? Forage for food!

By foraging, I mean going out in search of great, locally grown or produced items, and it's my new favorite pastime. It's not as easy as you might think though, and it requires that one be persistent and demanding - traits that don't come easily to me. Here we are, surrounded by goat farms and peach orchards, at the peak of peach season, and what did I find at our local grocery store last week? Goat cheese from Wisconsin and peaches from California! On my way out of town I passed a farmstand out on the highway, and decided to pull in. I assumed everything would be local, but immediately noticed several fruits that weren't even close to being in season. I gathered my nerve and asked "Where were your peaches grown?" She replied somewhat sheepishly "Uh, those came from California. We're all out of Fredericksburg peaches." I just smiled politely and said "Oh, that's too bad. I guess I'll have to keep looking then."

Since John had plenty of things around the house to keep him busy this weekend, none of which required my assistance, I decided to go foraging over in Blanco. Don't make the same mistake I did and try to give that a Spanish pronunciation. They will be quick to inform you that you are in Blank-oh, not Blonco! I loaded my cooler and my canvas shopping bag into the car, and headed out on my quest. First stop was at a shop called Real Foods, right on the town square. It's surprisingly large for such a small town, and carries all sorts of organic foods, both fresh and frozen, natural cleaning products, and a huge assortment of vitamins and supplements. They also have a tiny cafe in one corner where you can have a healthy lunch or a snack, and there are some prepared foods that you can take home with you. Or at least, they did have all that the last time I was there. When I walked through the door this time, what I found was bedlam. One whole side of the place was blocked off, the produce bin was empty, and much of the other stuff was in boxes in the aisles. I panicked and asked "What's going on? You're not closing the cafe are you?" They just laughed and said "No, no, don't worry! Actually, we're expanding our raw foods section and doing some remodeling. We've been closed all week, and were supposed to have things back together by now, but the carpenter didn't get our new counters completed on time." Ah well, that's a relief.

Next stop was McCall Creek Farms, where I had much better luck. I nabbed some beautiful San Marzano tomatoes, fresh green beans, and finally, some locally grown peaches. I was tempted by the fresh baked goods and the peach ice cream that they sell in the little shop that's attached to their produce stand, but decided that I might as well head straight to Riley's Barbecue and have some lunch. Last stop before heading home was the Arnosky's big blue barn. There I not only snagged a bouquet of my favorite fragrant flowers, tuberoses, I also found beautiful sweet peppers mottled in shades of peach, green and gold, all kinds of summer squash, perfectly ripe cherry tomatoes, cage-free fresh eggs, and a plethora of locally made goat cheeses.

When I got home with my haul, I rinsed off a peach and handed it to John. It was time for the acid test. He walked out onto the porch, leaned out over the rail, and bit into it. Not only did juice come rushing down his chin and wrists, but I'd swear I even heard a little moan escape from his lips!

Here's an interesting discovery for those of you who are paying out the wazoo for those little imported jars of sun-dried tomatoes. Drying your own is the easiest thing in the world. I read about it in Barbara Kingsolver's book, and decided to give it a try. I just quartered my roma tomatoes, and gave them a little squeeze to get rid of most of the juice and seeds. Then I sprinkled them with a bit of salt, and let them drain in a strainer for a few minutes. Finally, you just spread them out on a lightly greased roasting pan, and bake them at 200 F. for eight to ten hours, turning them occasionally. That's all there is to it! Of course, when I pulled them out of the oven, John just stood there staring at the little shriveled bits in the pan. Then he said "Personally, I thought they looked more appetizing before."