Ruminations and recipes from a small kitchen in a big city.



It reached 37 degrees yesterday. (Handy conversion tables here. Thank you Janis.)

We sat outside in the cool of the evening, except there was no cool. It was one of those semi-tropical evenings during which every bug known to man was flying about heavily in the hot blanket of still air. Tiny ones with oversized wings. Red ones that fly like a jet into your hair, buzz loudly as they get caught in it and then fall to the ground on their backs to buzz some more. Mosquitoes of course. Houseflies, blowflies. It was a good night for insects. Goldie snapped up quite a few. She's quick for an old dog.

It was almost too hot to eat. Almost. Salmon patties (canned salmon, potato, spring onions) on a simple salad of lettuce, tomatoes, onions, carrot straws and steamed broccoli from the garden (the last of it). Sweet chili sauce.

It remained hot throughout the night. Finally, towards maybe five in the morning, a cool breeze made its way in the window and wandered around, stirring the curtains.

Uh, oh. Look what's coming over the border.

I'll have to look up some locust recipes.

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