DELICIOUS FAITH

This summer I stole from my friends' gardens.  That's right, you heard me:  STOLE!

Okay, I accepted gifts.

It all started with my friend Pat, who thoughtfully gave me sprigs from her basil plant.  She lives under the delusion that I can actually grow something other than mold and mildew.  She assured me that I could root the cuttings and plant them.  I searched the Internet, making sure to do exactly what I was told, changing the water and keeping the plants in enough light.

Well, just when I was about to give up, the damn things sprouted some roots.  I know, I know; I couldn't believe it, either, but it happened!  I planted the sprigs into a pot and put them outside in the sun.  As predicted, one withered and died.  Kaput.  Less than two days.  But the other one ... it hesitated, almost gave out on me, and then, all of a sudden, voila!  Basil!  For real!  BASIL.  It's like a miracle or something.

Then, my sister gave me a zucchini.  Blog readers already know I had a near-crisis with a veggie spiral-er, but I managed to save the poor vegetable with some creative julienne cuts, a little olive oil, and a lot of white wine.  No, no, no, not to drink; I sauted the zucchini in the wine with some garlic and other veggies.  It was amazing.  I don't delude myself for a moment believing my culinary skills made that a great meal.  That was a great meal because my sister grew an amazing zucchini.

Today, though, I steal tomatoes by proxy.  Yup.  By proxy.  My pal Jess and I are at the grocery store.  We like to shop together and compare tales of strange shoppers, like the old woman who keeps attacking me with her shopping cart today.  But I digress.  We always seem to meet up in the produce section.  I am hankering for tomato mozzarella and basil salad.  Why?  Because my BASIL is growing!!!!  Woohoo!!!!  The problem is every single tomato in the produce section looks like crap.  Even the hot house tomatoes and the organic tomatoes.  Poop.  All of them.

Jess has some fresh tomatoes that her neighbor gave her right out of the garden.  She offers them to me, and, since I am driving her home on my way to deliver my own groceries, I know she's good for them lest I force her to walk home from the store.  I am so thrilled that I help her unload all of her groceries, ignoring my dairy products and freezer items for the sake of securing fresh tomatoes.

Now that dinner is over (steak tips, rice, and the tomato mozzarella and basil salad), I can honestly say that my basil plus those fresh tomatoes (plus store-bought whole mozzarella) and a little oil and vinegar = OHMYFREAKINGGODHOWGOOD

Thank you, my friends, for gifting me with the fresh veggies and the belief that I might be able to grow herbs without killing them.  Your faith in me is simply delicious.