We started coming to this market in 2003, the summer we spent up here, and got to know some of the farmers. It's a small crew of local, exclusively organic farmers and the obligatory artisans. The produce is of a generally excellent quality--though it's still just greens season here--and more reasonably priced than at the markets in Richmond--$3 for a bag of mesclun instead of $5. It is still early in the season, however, so we only picked up mesclun, spinach, and chevre.
One of these days I'll have to be more adventuresome and buy things like beets and turnip greens.
Saturday, June 30, 2007
Stink at Little Tunk
As a protected body of water, pollution should be minimal to non-existent at Little Tunk. That's why it was an unpleasant surprise to find foam and a yellow residue on the shore on our most recent excursion.
Most of it had accumulated near the reedy area where Banana and the other kids had been catching bullfrogs on Wednesday. Not knowing the source of the scum and yellow residue, I vetoed frog hunting. Banana was disappointed, though she soon found other ways to occupy her time.
Unhappy about the pollution, I was still happy there wouldn't be a debate over whether a frog could come home with us.
Most of it had accumulated near the reedy area where Banana and the other kids had been catching bullfrogs on Wednesday. Not knowing the source of the scum and yellow residue, I vetoed frog hunting. Banana was disappointed, though she soon found other ways to occupy her time.
Unhappy about the pollution, I was still happy there wouldn't be a debate over whether a frog could come home with us.
Friday, June 29, 2007
foodblogging - the lobster edition
Banana and I headed over to Tidal Falls tonight for our dinner out for the week. She loves lobster, and it seemed fair to split a lobster. Little did I know I would really only end up with the tail. Nonetheless, that's not the point, right?
Tidal Falls has been around in one way or another for a number of years. It was originally one of the best working pounds in Hancock, and as any good pound did, it served basic shore dinners. Most of these old pounds are gone now. The Cardinal at the bridge has become a wholesale outfit. Gordon's and others along the Route 1 corridor have closed up over the years, as did Tidal Falls for several years.
It reopened in the early eighties, owned and operated by a French woman I only remember as Madame. Her lobsters and moules were impeccable, and as a good French chef, she never skimped on the side items she offered, and the bread was always fresh. She also always kept a stash of wine even though the restaurant was technically BYOB; the deal was you replaced the bottle the next time you came. When she retired, the Frenchman Bay Conservancy raised the money to buy the point to keep it from being developed and to use the restaurant to fund their efforts. So how has it gone?
The menu now includes a thorough selection of fried options. When I tried the scallops last year, I was impressed. The breading was light, and the scallops themselves were excellent quality. The new operator has added barbecue to the offerings.
He clearly is quite serious about the 'que, based on the set-up he has going. He also talked about how depressing it was to have to store and reheat food since he hadn't figured out the pace yet. (Apparently, the Conservancy is also against him advertising anything other than the lobster and fried seafood. Go figure.)
Anyway, the initial impression is actually a bit of sticker shock. Prices on lobster have climbed precipitously this year, with hard shells coming off the boat at close to nine dollars. Market price at the restaurant then becomes a painful fourteen bucks a pound. (Note to self: we'll have to check Beal's in Southwest Harbor to see what prices at a working retail operation are running.) In keeping with what I'm seeing everywhere right now, however, other prices are rising too--the most criminal example being Anna's four-dollar lemonade. But the real test comes in the food, right? So here it is:
The lobster was perfect and succulent. It seemed dirtier than it should have been, but then the days of Madame tightly controlling her supply are gone. In any case, Anna tore into the small claws and had some of the meat from the bigger claws before retreating to the garlic bread. I shared the big claws with her and had the tail, and it was very good. The corn was also good, though not as tasty as the corn I put on the grill earlier in the week. Even the cole slaw was good. The main downside was the garlic bread which was basically a hero role slathered with butter and garlic powder, not even much of a trace of minced garlic as it should have had.
Overall, the food was good, not great. (Yes, my veggie friends will crow that we shouldn't even be going through this.) But the thing about Tidal Falls is that half of the experience is the location--a tidal falls (runs in and out with the tide) between Frenchman Bay and Taunton Bay, across the narrows from our house:
In the dead-calm water between the tides, you can watch seals fish, herons and ospreys fly over. It's a stunning spot, and back in the cove are the remnants of its days as a working pound.
The water isn't as clean as it used to be, but then that's nothing new. Unfortunately.
Tidal Falls has been around in one way or another for a number of years. It was originally one of the best working pounds in Hancock, and as any good pound did, it served basic shore dinners. Most of these old pounds are gone now. The Cardinal at the bridge has become a wholesale outfit. Gordon's and others along the Route 1 corridor have closed up over the years, as did Tidal Falls for several years.
It reopened in the early eighties, owned and operated by a French woman I only remember as Madame. Her lobsters and moules were impeccable, and as a good French chef, she never skimped on the side items she offered, and the bread was always fresh. She also always kept a stash of wine even though the restaurant was technically BYOB; the deal was you replaced the bottle the next time you came. When she retired, the Frenchman Bay Conservancy raised the money to buy the point to keep it from being developed and to use the restaurant to fund their efforts. So how has it gone?
The menu now includes a thorough selection of fried options. When I tried the scallops last year, I was impressed. The breading was light, and the scallops themselves were excellent quality. The new operator has added barbecue to the offerings.
He clearly is quite serious about the 'que, based on the set-up he has going. He also talked about how depressing it was to have to store and reheat food since he hadn't figured out the pace yet. (Apparently, the Conservancy is also against him advertising anything other than the lobster and fried seafood. Go figure.) Anyway, the initial impression is actually a bit of sticker shock. Prices on lobster have climbed precipitously this year, with hard shells coming off the boat at close to nine dollars. Market price at the restaurant then becomes a painful fourteen bucks a pound. (Note to self: we'll have to check Beal's in Southwest Harbor to see what prices at a working retail operation are running.) In keeping with what I'm seeing everywhere right now, however, other prices are rising too--the most criminal example being Anna's four-dollar lemonade. But the real test comes in the food, right? So here it is:
The lobster was perfect and succulent. It seemed dirtier than it should have been, but then the days of Madame tightly controlling her supply are gone. In any case, Anna tore into the small claws and had some of the meat from the bigger claws before retreating to the garlic bread. I shared the big claws with her and had the tail, and it was very good. The corn was also good, though not as tasty as the corn I put on the grill earlier in the week. Even the cole slaw was good. The main downside was the garlic bread which was basically a hero role slathered with butter and garlic powder, not even much of a trace of minced garlic as it should have had.
Overall, the food was good, not great. (Yes, my veggie friends will crow that we shouldn't even be going through this.) But the thing about Tidal Falls is that half of the experience is the location--a tidal falls (runs in and out with the tide) between Frenchman Bay and Taunton Bay, across the narrows from our house:
In the dead-calm water between the tides, you can watch seals fish, herons and ospreys fly over. It's a stunning spot, and back in the cove are the remnants of its days as a working pound.
The water isn't as clean as it used to be, but then that's nothing new. Unfortunately.
the meaning of summer
For the moment, impoliticeye appears to be turning into a photo-narrative essay blog. That's not such a bad thing. Neither is this perfect justification for a vacation afternoon at Little Tunk:
Thursday, June 28, 2007
on the coast
Today, we packed lunches--a lesson well-learned from yesterday's extended excursion to Little Tunk--and headed farther Down East to Schoodic Point. For those who do not know, Schoodic is a mainland extension of Acadia National Park. It's near Winter Harbor, and is a good spot for scrambling around some really cool granite coastal formations. It's also a favorite spot for kids who grow up spending their summers around here:
Even Reilly looked a little more spry after acting like a mountain goat:
You're facing out to the North Atlantic, the territory of rafts of gulls and serious fishermen. In fact, watching boats like this after all the politics I've been dealing with lately makes me wonder if I'd rather cash in my chips, and do something where there are no chess-like mindgames to play:
The surf might be no more predictable, but at least it doesn't smile at you while finding ways to screw you...
And it's a lot more fun to watch.
But I forgot the point. The point is what we can find. Or what Banana can find. Thankfully, nothing came home with us today.
Banana then found twins from New Jersey to follow her to tidal pools. These girls were a few years older, but they were great at exploring with her. A few minutes after this shot was taken, however, one twin's protectiveness proved even more valuable when Banana took what could have been a painful plunge off the rock face. The girl caught her arm, and Banana emerged wet but mostly unharmed.
A short time later, I snapped this as we headed off Schoodic toward Darthia Farm. This little shed is on the edge of Wonsqueak Harbor, and has had these signs painted on the side for as long as I can remember. Never shot it until now...
Even Reilly looked a little more spry after acting like a mountain goat:
You're facing out to the North Atlantic, the territory of rafts of gulls and serious fishermen. In fact, watching boats like this after all the politics I've been dealing with lately makes me wonder if I'd rather cash in my chips, and do something where there are no chess-like mindgames to play:
The surf might be no more predictable, but at least it doesn't smile at you while finding ways to screw you...
And it's a lot more fun to watch.But I forgot the point. The point is what we can find. Or what Banana can find. Thankfully, nothing came home with us today.
Banana then found twins from New Jersey to follow her to tidal pools. These girls were a few years older, but they were great at exploring with her. A few minutes after this shot was taken, however, one twin's protectiveness proved even more valuable when Banana took what could have been a painful plunge off the rock face. The girl caught her arm, and Banana emerged wet but mostly unharmed.
A short time later, I snapped this as we headed off Schoodic toward Darthia Farm. This little shed is on the edge of Wonsqueak Harbor, and has had these signs painted on the side for as long as I can remember. Never shot it until now...
food, good food
A note to all my vegan and committed-vegetarian friends: this post may offend.
I neglected to take a picture of the crabcakes last night. Too bad, too, because they were perfect. Local crab tossed with a light mixture of egg (also local and organic), mayonnaise (I'm not up to making my own yet), cumin, hot paprika, celery seed, lemon juice, worcestishire, and a dash of breadcrumbs to bind them. Rather than pan-cooking them, I opted for the broiler. The old stove is electric, but they came out perfectly. We had them with rice and a salad of local lettuces, feta (not local), and yellow pepper (as local as the Netherlands). Good stuff.
Tonight's dinner selection was a little more mundane, and unfortunately involved fewer locally-sourced ingredients. Nonetheless, a hearty meal of spaghetti after a day of running around on the rocks and playing in the water... well, it's good too.
I neglected to take a picture of the crabcakes last night. Too bad, too, because they were perfect. Local crab tossed with a light mixture of egg (also local and organic), mayonnaise (I'm not up to making my own yet), cumin, hot paprika, celery seed, lemon juice, worcestishire, and a dash of breadcrumbs to bind them. Rather than pan-cooking them, I opted for the broiler. The old stove is electric, but they came out perfectly. We had them with rice and a salad of local lettuces, feta (not local), and yellow pepper (as local as the Netherlands). Good stuff.
Tonight's dinner selection was a little more mundane, and unfortunately involved fewer locally-sourced ingredients. Nonetheless, a hearty meal of spaghetti after a day of running around on the rocks and playing in the water... well, it's good too.
SCOTUS madness
The GOP couldn't hold their majority in the Senate and Congress, and Bush is at historic lows in the approval ratings. We as a country--and the world at large--are stuck with the bad choices that have been made in our names. But it seems clear that the longest lasting and potentially most damaging legacy is also the one that cannot be undone: the Supreme Court.
As the decisions roll in, it is clear that the Bush&Co have succeeded in establishing a court that will protect neocon interests in the near and long terms. From civil rights to environmental protections to the rights of consumers to hold corporations accountable to many, many other issues, the five justices most beholden to the Bush dynasty--Scalia, Alito, Roberts, Kennedy, and Thomas--threaten to hold progressive interests hostage for generations.
This, I suppose is the sad and sick irony of Bush's original appointment by the SCOTUS. And it's going to haunt us for a long, long time.
As the decisions roll in, it is clear that the Bush&Co have succeeded in establishing a court that will protect neocon interests in the near and long terms. From civil rights to environmental protections to the rights of consumers to hold corporations accountable to many, many other issues, the five justices most beholden to the Bush dynasty--Scalia, Alito, Roberts, Kennedy, and Thomas--threaten to hold progressive interests hostage for generations.
This, I suppose is the sad and sick irony of Bush's original appointment by the SCOTUS. And it's going to haunt us for a long, long time.
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
GSW victim
Just some further thoughts on the topic of getting shot...
1. I was extraordinarily lucky. Every time I look in the mirror and see the scar at the crux of my neck and shoulder, I realize how lucky I was. Any minor deviation in the act of shooting the gun or in the trajectory through the railing and I would be dead--or at the very least, badly maimed. In so many ways, I shouldn't be here now, but I am.
2. There may be nothing stranger in my 36 years so far than saying the words "When I was shot." Every time any variation of this comes out of my mouth, I stop for a brief moment. There is nothing right about saying it. And nothing I can do but marvel at the strangeness of the words.
3. I prevented a robbery from taking place. Perhaps something much worse. I don't know why I have to remind myself of this, but it's not the easiest thing to process.
4. It still hurts. Physically and mentally.
5. On my earlier post, I was vague about how much deeper the bullet was than expected. My attending surgeon expected it to be close to the surface--not more than a quarter of an inch. Instead, it was more than an inch under the skin and had cosseted itself just on the edge of the deltoid, kindly avoiding the ribs, clavicle, lung and other vitals. I was lucky.
So ends this moment of navel-gazing. Thanks for tuning in.
1. I was extraordinarily lucky. Every time I look in the mirror and see the scar at the crux of my neck and shoulder, I realize how lucky I was. Any minor deviation in the act of shooting the gun or in the trajectory through the railing and I would be dead--or at the very least, badly maimed. In so many ways, I shouldn't be here now, but I am.
2. There may be nothing stranger in my 36 years so far than saying the words "When I was shot." Every time any variation of this comes out of my mouth, I stop for a brief moment. There is nothing right about saying it. And nothing I can do but marvel at the strangeness of the words.
3. I prevented a robbery from taking place. Perhaps something much worse. I don't know why I have to remind myself of this, but it's not the easiest thing to process.
4. It still hurts. Physically and mentally.
5. On my earlier post, I was vague about how much deeper the bullet was than expected. My attending surgeon expected it to be close to the surface--not more than a quarter of an inch. Instead, it was more than an inch under the skin and had cosseted itself just on the edge of the deltoid, kindly avoiding the ribs, clavicle, lung and other vitals. I was lucky.
So ends this moment of navel-gazing. Thanks for tuning in.
the meaning of vacation
Late this morning, after a breakfast of cinnamon raisin french toast, berries, and applewood-smoked bacon, we headed for Little Tunk Pond.
Like a number of areas in Sullivan, Little Tunk has come under the protection of the Frenchman Bay Conservancy. This group has worked to protect some beautiful spots from the developers' knives in recent years. While this goes against the moneyed vogue, it ensures that others have access to some truly beautiful spots--and that those spots will remain truly beautiful.
Anyway...
The trip started out as a short jaunt with a plan to pick starfish at the old dock at Edgewater at low tide. Banana connected with a few kids--Miranda 13, Nick 9, and Luke 4--and I sat with their parents for a bit. Our dogs got along worse, but it was summer vacation and beer-thirty so we burned off the rest of the day. By the time we left with a bullfrog in tow, it was after five, and we were all tired. The bullfrog returned to a stream near the house. Despite Banana's pleas for it to remain, I insisted that there was no way the frog would make it back to Richmond.
I am a mean dad sometimes.
Like a number of areas in Sullivan, Little Tunk has come under the protection of the Frenchman Bay Conservancy. This group has worked to protect some beautiful spots from the developers' knives in recent years. While this goes against the moneyed vogue, it ensures that others have access to some truly beautiful spots--and that those spots will remain truly beautiful.
Anyway...
The trip started out as a short jaunt with a plan to pick starfish at the old dock at Edgewater at low tide. Banana connected with a few kids--Miranda 13, Nick 9, and Luke 4--and I sat with their parents for a bit. Our dogs got along worse, but it was summer vacation and beer-thirty so we burned off the rest of the day. By the time we left with a bullfrog in tow, it was after five, and we were all tired. The bullfrog returned to a stream near the house. Despite Banana's pleas for it to remain, I insisted that there was no way the frog would make it back to Richmond.
I am a mean dad sometimes.
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
hype and craving
It's taken me a few years to come back to being a technophile. I'm not entirely there yet, but my Core 2 Duo iMac and 30gb video iPod are becoming more central to my organization, communication, and entertainment. I am also keeping up more with the latest techno news, especially as it relates to Macs.
This is to say that I am paying attention to the iPhone. Hell, even David Pogue likes it, and that's saying a lot. He usually hates most things Apple.
This is to say that I am paying attention to the iPhone. Hell, even David Pogue likes it, and that's saying a lot. He usually hates most things Apple.
trashing the coast
This is Sullivan Harbor at nearly low tide. The harbor was not recognized as a working harbor until less than twenty years ago. Unitl then, the water was only broken by a few private moorings and lobster pots. Then old zoning regulations were uncovered and the town fathers decided to make it a working harbor. Since then, we've seen an interesting run of boats anchor here. This increase in activity has coincided with a general increase in fishing and dragging in Frenchman's Bay.
Generally, coastal laws prohibit dragging, trapping or fishing in working harbors. These laws are also fairly specific about how and where fishing can be done. Unfortunately, Mainers have a stubbornly libertarian streak and there is very little direct enforcement of some regulations in rural areas. To that end, boats work to fulfill demand for scallops, mussels, crabs, and lobsters and various kinds of fish without much regard for the law.
To wit, the picture. Below what we have always referred to as the Big Rock is a tidal mussel flat. This means that it is covered by eleven feet of water at high tide and bare at low tide. Twenty years ago and beyond, it was a pure run of mussels. Now it is gutted and pockmarked by illegal dragging.
This is an object lesson in my frustration with contemporary Green vogue. Global warming gets a lot of attention, but the whole question of sustainability and other damage to our natural resources seems to get lost in the noise about organic products. The real discussion of how to deal with our environment ends up obscured in an absurd debate between corporate interests, societal interests, and the view that "real" environmentalism is somehow a freakish, patchouli-soaked abomination.
vacation notes
I'll probably post a run of these to Flickr, but here's a quick taste...
There was a run of jellyfish that had been beached today. This was one:
Reilly loves it up here, but he's definitely getting older. Pictures like this remind me of that fact:
Let's see the inventory in this one: Coffee cup (I had to go up to Dunbar's Store to grind the Whole Foods beans this morning since I forgot no one has put a coffee grinder in the house yet. And apparently I don't plan to either.), pint container for shells and rocks, Hanna Andersson dress, new L.L. Bean shoes, ledge on the Maine coast. What price a stereotype?
It's a stone, just a stone. The simple pleasure of finding a treasure like this meets that wonderful texture of the beach below her feet, however, and it's also a reminder of why I love this place.
There was a run of jellyfish that had been beached today. This was one:
Reilly loves it up here, but he's definitely getting older. Pictures like this remind me of that fact:
Let's see the inventory in this one: Coffee cup (I had to go up to Dunbar's Store to grind the Whole Foods beans this morning since I forgot no one has put a coffee grinder in the house yet. And apparently I don't plan to either.), pint container for shells and rocks, Hanna Andersson dress, new L.L. Bean shoes, ledge on the Maine coast. What price a stereotype?
It's a stone, just a stone. The simple pleasure of finding a treasure like this meets that wonderful texture of the beach below her feet, however, and it's also a reminder of why I love this place.
Maine
This is what I woke up to this morning:
We left Montclair yesterday before noon, and I opted to cut up the Garden State to the Tappan Zee rather than going to the GWB the way I usually do. We made killer time up through the parkway system and past Hartford. It was easy enough that we were able to make it to Freeport for dinner at Gritty's. (Yes, I prefer the original Gritty's in Portland, but the Freeport one is so easy with kids because of the back lawn and play area.)
Anyway, we got in late last night. And woke up to the mountains this morning. Stay tuned for more blogging from Sullivan.
We left Montclair yesterday before noon, and I opted to cut up the Garden State to the Tappan Zee rather than going to the GWB the way I usually do. We made killer time up through the parkway system and past Hartford. It was easy enough that we were able to make it to Freeport for dinner at Gritty's. (Yes, I prefer the original Gritty's in Portland, but the Freeport one is so easy with kids because of the back lawn and play area.)
Anyway, we got in late last night. And woke up to the mountains this morning. Stay tuned for more blogging from Sullivan.
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
"This could easily have been fatal."
That's what my attending physician said today after he took the sutures out. Apparently, the bullet was deeper than expected, and closer to "real" damage than shown on the scans. He was also kind to add the comment that it was a big bullet, and that it was mostly intact.
Again, I must say: I got lucky.
Again, I must say: I got lucky.
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
Byrd House Market, Week 5
This week's market haul:
Asparagus
Blueberries
Zucchini
Broccoli
Strawberries
Mesclun mix (complete with pea shoots)
small bouquet of wildflowers and lilies
The only disappointment was the strawberries. I should have known better, though, than to buy strawberries after the real heat came on. The berries looked on the edge at the market, and within a couple of hours, they were in sad shape. Out of a quart, I got a small bowl of cut-up berries with a bit of sugar tossed in to keep them from retarding further.
Asparagus
Blueberries
Zucchini
Broccoli
Strawberries
Mesclun mix (complete with pea shoots)
small bouquet of wildflowers and lilies
The only disappointment was the strawberries. I should have known better, though, than to buy strawberries after the real heat came on. The berries looked on the edge at the market, and within a couple of hours, they were in sad shape. Out of a quart, I got a small bowl of cut-up berries with a bit of sugar tossed in to keep them from retarding further.
Lifehacking, a side note
The financial part of the growing up agenda is going to be hell, I think. Digging myself out of the hole I've dug over the years is complicated. Staying out of the hole may be even harder.
Of course, much of the complication is to be found in the current facts of my life: moderate income, all of the expenses of single parenthood, little-to-no savings to cover random bills. If I had my debts paid and a few thousand dollars in savings, my income would be enough to cover day-to-day expenses. But with the rising costs of daily living and little things here and there, it feels like I am constantly climbing a sand dune.
I can't really count this as the next step in the process, because I haven't found any good lessons yet.
Of course, much of the complication is to be found in the current facts of my life: moderate income, all of the expenses of single parenthood, little-to-no savings to cover random bills. If I had my debts paid and a few thousand dollars in savings, my income would be enough to cover day-to-day expenses. But with the rising costs of daily living and little things here and there, it feels like I am constantly climbing a sand dune.
I can't really count this as the next step in the process, because I haven't found any good lessons yet.
Monday, June 18, 2007
Life-hacking 2
The second example: Throw things away.
I am willing to blame my parents for at least part of my pack-rat habit. My parents both have a remarkable talent for holding on to things. This can be good sometimes, but it can also become a frustrating, irritating tendency.
During the recent move, a couple of friends forced me to throw some stuff away, things that had little intrinsic. Without their help, I would probably have packed and put away these things--egg poachers, inexpensive vases, extra sets of poker chips, and more--without thinking about it. In a few years, when Banana and I moved into a new house, these things would have traveled again.
The lessons were good ones, though, and I have continued to purge. With each box, I have decided what really needed to stay and what should go. With Anna's stuff, I have taken as hard a line as I can on getting rid of toys that she no longer plays with, and quietly stripping out the weird little detritus that children collect.
More and more, I think that part of growing up is realizing what should stay and what should go.
HERE ENDETH THIS LESSON.
I am willing to blame my parents for at least part of my pack-rat habit. My parents both have a remarkable talent for holding on to things. This can be good sometimes, but it can also become a frustrating, irritating tendency.
During the recent move, a couple of friends forced me to throw some stuff away, things that had little intrinsic. Without their help, I would probably have packed and put away these things--egg poachers, inexpensive vases, extra sets of poker chips, and more--without thinking about it. In a few years, when Banana and I moved into a new house, these things would have traveled again.
The lessons were good ones, though, and I have continued to purge. With each box, I have decided what really needed to stay and what should go. With Anna's stuff, I have taken as hard a line as I can on getting rid of toys that she no longer plays with, and quietly stripping out the weird little detritus that children collect.
More and more, I think that part of growing up is realizing what should stay and what should go.
HERE ENDETH THIS LESSON.
Trader Joe's Hack
One of Banana's favorite foods--perhaps her favorite food--is Trader Joe's Pizza Formaggio Di Capra. She calls it the "Circle Cheese Pizza." Anyway, it's a nearly perfect thing, surprisingly so for a frozen pizza. The crust is thin and crisp, coated with a mild tomato sauce and cheese, punctuated by four olives--calamata or nicoise--and four discs of chevre.
On a whim tonight, I drizzled the pie with good olive oil and added some fresh basil. Banana pulled the basil off--she's at that irritating age when reliable flavors are no longer reliable--but we finished it off quickly.
Good stuff.
On a whim tonight, I drizzled the pie with good olive oil and added some fresh basil. Banana pulled the basil off--she's at that irritating age when reliable flavors are no longer reliable--but we finished it off quickly.
Good stuff.
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