Tonight, under cover of darkness, I went out to the garden with my Lee Valley pitchfork and dug up a big bulb of fresh garlic.
I admit it felt a little witchy to be digging up herbs in moonlight, but that just added to the charm of it all.
And it was worth it. Andrew brought fresh mussels home after soccer and cooked them in wine and garlic. We ate them at 10 pm, Erik slipping down to join us in our nocturnal mussel feast.
A little tast of the East Coast.
And the last I will have, for a week at least, as we embark on our 100-mile challenge. As of Saturday, we will be watching how far our food travels to get to our table. Inspired by my friend Jackie in Creemore Ontario, I'll be keeping tabs here and on facebook as to how we make out. We no longer live in Creemore, but there's no reason we can't support and participate from afar.
Sadly, mussels will not make the list.
But wine doesn't count, right Jackie? Right?