I was transfixed on this person, and then, with the index finger of the same hand that he nonchallantaly threw the cigarette out the window with, he shoved his index finger so far up his left nostril that his face became all distorted, his right eye squinting shut under the pressure of the finger in his sinus cavity. A few seconds later, satisfied with his archeological dig, he pulled his finger out - looked at it, rolled his finding around between his thumb and index finger, and then threw that out the window too. He repeated this two more times, each time as vigorous as the one before.
This is what I hate about driving to work. If I were on the train, that man would have been treated to an earful of littering and hygeine lessons, but, trapped in my car, he was oblivious to my rage and disgust, I had no closure, I was mute. I now understand road rage.
So - I picked 18 tomatoes yesterday. half heirloom, half beefsteak. Chris assures me they are great. I don't eat raw tomatoes. I'll eat the shit out of sundried, stewed, roasted, blistered, but not raw. Here's what I made with just one of the heirlooms and one beefsteak. Also, that pretty basil, that's from my garden too.
Heirloom Caprese Salad
Basil/Buffalo Mozzarella/Tomato/olive oil/salt/pepper.
I think you can figure it out.
Rating = (CB says) Damn Good