Went and stayed out Friday without planting my bicycle somewhere close-in, so spent Saturday morning on a too slow trek home by bus. By grace, Zoe was in the same boat and we ended up in last nights outfits headed towards Bed Stuy on the same B43.
Then we teased the chance encounter into an endurance-hang: we tanned and jammed on the stoop, worked on the pinata, did the gym, convinced Jarthur and Chris into the fray, and took Zo’s hair up short.
Some folks are out of town, where its likely less filthy. But we took advantage, here and foul together, and combo-ed their farmshare with the last of my fridge’s contents and some of Zoe’s Trader Joe’s dumpster stash from last week to make a standout dinner for four.
We threw my broccoli and TJ’s blister peanuts into a wok with Bok Choi and garlic scapes from the farm. An old kobucha squash became alarmingly delicious after about 40 minutes in the oven, oiled salted and peppered with a dumpster onion and almost candy baby-beets from the farm box.
Not pictured is the pre-game salsa we pulped out of farm radishes, salvage celery, two tomatoes, half an onion and a lime.
In the morning, the pinata still wasn’t done and the fridge was bare. To power my commute to Harlem, this was the best I could do.
