Never had a clove-scented basil leaf

I'm growing basil and cilantro plants--and my cilantro has already gone to flower. But my basil is happy and producing fat leaves. However, I'm unhappy. My sweet basil is very, very strong. It has a much stronger clove scent than other basil plants I've grown in the past.

Did the nursery folks mislabel it? Or have I done something to promote the stronger clove taste in growing it with cilantro? Has something else I've done affected it?

I have to say, I don't like it, which is disappointing. I'd planned on making tons of pesto this summer, and I don't know if it will be to my liking.

Where has it gone...time?

Sigh. Where has the time gone? Here it is, June already. Here it is, almost summer. I had planned to grown many herbs this summer, rather than spending too much at farmer's markets only to have the herbs shrivel and die in my kitchen.

However, I didn't grow any from seeds and so must rely on nurseries. And right now I'm relying on Home Depot (don't all of you throw rotten tomatoes at me) because my nursery is closed before I can ever get to it.

Today the Bug and I recycled baby formula cans, spray painted them sun yellow, and left them to dry in the driveway. Tomorrow we'll punch holes in the bottoms, fill them with dirt, and plant cilantro and basil in them. We also planted pepper plants in big planters in the backyard--poblanos and anaheims. 70 days to maturity! I'm hoping that we haven't over crowded these plants. They seem fine now, but I think they might want more space as they grow, if memory serves me right.

I haven't mentioned the lovely herb stall at the Oakland farmer's market, with the most enthusiastic man selling not just mint but spearmint (yum!), and lovely Thai basil and perfect tarragon and some really interesting cumin leaves. I stuck them in water and wrapped them in a damp tea towel all week. The Bug kept snagging mint leaves (both types) all week long. I realized they'd gone round the bend when I smelled basil on his breath instead last night.

Here it is, almost midnight, and I should be in bed, snoozing. I'll be crabby in the morning.

Hot Peppers and My Mouth do not mix

I planted some cute pepper plants in my backyard planters this summer, alongside some tomato plants. The peppers weren't really productive--every now and then I'd go out and cut off a nice green pepper about half the size of my fist.

They were sweet, bland, but added some nice color to my Saturday egg dishes.

On Wednesday of this week I took a cute little pepper with me to work. It had begun to redden, and looked happy on my desk next to some fresh tomatoes.

Late into the afternoon I was craving potatoe chips. I reached for my pepper and bit off the tip. Nice, sweet, crispy. I took a bigger bite, much the same. The third bite brought me into the red part.

SWEET FIRES OF HELL!

My mouth burnt. Tears streamed down my cheeks. I couldn't move. I finally managed to spit out the mouthful after crying out. My eyes turned red, instantly.

I ran a block for milk.

In heels and a suit.

I RAN.

What happened to my sweet peppers?

Harvesting the Tomatoes

It's the end of August. The kids are back in school and nights are cooler. Radish seeds are planted and the strawberries are making one last heroic push. And my tomato plants, which are the wildest, scariest thicket of bushes you've ever seen, are finally putting out.

Not many toms, as you can see, considering I have six plants. Those wrinkly ones are quite interesting. I can't remember what they're called (yes, I should have saved the little plastic thingy that they stick in the soil), but the flesh tastes quite meaty. I'm not sure if I like them or not. The darker ones are called black beauties, and end up looking like they've gone bad, because they're all tinged with dark green, but they are really quite good.

They're a strange group of fruits, they are. I'll have to make a sauce and freeze it. We're almost tomato'd out!