Some domestic tasks just never get done. The effects of my negligence have most acutely affected the household budget ... specifically, the grocery bill. Why do I reproach myself on St. Valentine's Day, the most masochistic, disingenuous, frightful day of the year? Because, I can.
Summer and Autumn of 2011, saw me in the garden loving tending to produce intended to feed two adults and two dogs. Object - grow enough to feed us through the season by blanching and freezing, drying or canning. The actual state of affairs - I prepared nothing, save a few jars of homemade pesto and a scattering of dried herbs. Pathetic. Though, I will cut myself a little slack in that I personally grew several pounds of fresh produce for our local food pantry in a half-sized community garden plot.
Now, here in Wisconsin, this household has been shucking out ducats left and right for organic diced tomatoes and soybeans. Keeping the dogs in carrots and radishes requires a full-time job's pay. There is little relief from my guilt when suppertime rolls around. I suck in my breath and reflect back to those early sugar snap peas that never made it into the house; they were that delicious.
Wondering about the reference to lard and how that all fits in? Well, I did somehow find the time to collect all the Sunday breakfasts' bacon drippings in a Twinings tea tin in order to fatten up the cornbread (which never gets made), slather the green beans (which I never froze) and liven up the Bolognese sauce (but, I canned no tomatoes). Again, pathetic.
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