My gardening (and blogging) time has been limited by two jobs demanding my attention (ostensibly taking the same amount of time as one job, but that ignores the doubling of overflow and emotional energy). So I have lots of stored-up posts: of miniature fashioned-at-playgroup greenhouses somehow still bursting with exciting plants; of early-morning squash sex (a story of first-time fumbles and disappointment, developing into a mutually satisfying relationship); of triumph against the odds with the mollusc masses; of how even a few containers can yield a glut; of Oh!-bergine satisfaction, (and of much more painful wordplay likely in future posts). But for now no time to inject new posts into the ether.

tomato heaven

Except circumstances conspire. Remote email access is down, so work for tonight is on hold. And the most tangy, acid-sweet bursting of home-grown joy brings me to the keyboard. The wholewheat pasta, feta and purple basil pictured (it is purple basil, not burnt bits) were merely there to stop the pleasure of these cherry tomatoes becoming too overwhelming. The simplest thing – they were just put in a low oven, with a sprinkle of olive oil, sea salt, pepper and a touch of crushed garlic. But they slow cooked down into such intense and perfect mouthfuls that I’d probably be happy if these were the only things I’d grown and cooked all year.

I refer you to my previous comment.