A Peach of a Market

In order to take in a little local flavor and get to know the neighborhood, the family three headed to our new farmer’s market. I feel like you can always tell a lot about your town by the farmer’s market it keeps. For example, when we lived over the river from DC, there was abundant choice of organics, everything was pretty spendy and a foodie vibe was in the air. In fact, each week there was a former Food Network chef on hand sampling food from her resto – more great tips from her later. Montgomery is a different kind of sister, city that is. Choice is more abundant around the variety of peaches or peanuts and there was a nary a single, delicate squash blossom to be found. Organic, well, there was one, lonesome lady selling organic milk -- bless her heart. But, it was a collection of the most gregarious group of growers that I’ve ever met. The nice man selling peaches (5 types of peaches, mind you) gave my daughter a “cute kid discount.” What mother doesn’t like that, right? Hence, we went back to his booth this week to buy more of his delicious peaches…actually, lots of peaches. Turns out we’ve got some savvy marketers here in town, to boot.

If you find yourself looking for a snappy way to use up a few extra peaches that won’t make it into your lunch bag in time. Give this a whirl with grilled fish, chicken or atop some grainy goodness like couscous or quinoa.

Peach Relish
Courtesy of Martha Stewart Everyday Food
Serves 4
1/4 small red onion, very thinly sliced
2 ripe peaches (4 1/2 ounces each), quartered and very thinly sliced
1 tablespoon honey
1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
1/8 teaspoon cayenne pepper
Coarse salt and ground pepper In a small bowl of ice water, soak onion for 10 minutes; drain, blot dry, and return to bowl. Add peaches, honey, lemon juice, and cayenne; season with salt and pepper.

Let stand 15 minutes. If storing, cover and refrigerate up to 1 day.

Military Moves Suck! -- The Real Truth

Admittedly there had to be a more eloquent, graceful or even more pithy way to say it, but frankly there is nothing remotely graceful about moving. Perhaps if you broke it down into a slow-mo segment for YouTube and set it to some Tchaikovsky? Oh, yes, I can see it now the troupe of hot, sweaty and stinky movers (good thing there’s no smell-o-vision), our bedrails aloft (yes, airborne) down the stairwell and a crescendo when the dresser plummets on the grassy knoll at the bottom of the driveway. Ah, yes, no one wants to see this production.
Alas, we made it to Alabama relatively unscathed, very much in denial that we’re leaving good friends and so much that we love about DC. However, like every other family that moves every 1, 2 or 3 years we arranged, rearranged and re-re-arranged furniture once more. Unfortunately, I can’t picture it until it’s actually in place. (Sorry, Honey!) Now, we trip over all of the items and boxes that we have absolutely no idea where they will call home. All of the random coffee cups, squadron memorabilia, kitchen gadgets that I “had to have” and more “talking” kids toys that you can shake a stick at. The clutter and confusion in this house right now closely mimics what I envision the inside of my head to look like. So, I choose to compartmentalize and take one thing at a time and instead of unpacking, re-re-re-rearranging. (Honey is quite happy about this.) Instead, I procrastinate by writing – or as I’ll term it for now -- therapy. Yes, as I say, go with your strengths. Let’s face it, I would medal in procrastination if it were sport – a virtual trophy case filled to the gills rewarding my avoidance. But, in the end, it’s all about finding the happiness in each day, each move and finding a little treasure in each freaking box. Did I mention they packed our recycling? Good times!