it is, apparently, genetic

Behold, the inevitable result of a summer full of excellent tomatoes at the local farmers market, plus a work schedule that kept me nailed to the computer at home through most of July and August:

a martha stewart kind of sky

The count so far: 36 cups of tomato sauce in assorted varieties, frozen in 2-cup bags (of which about a third pictured). 12 cups of assorted salsas ranging from “tingly” to “HI, HERE’S YOUR HEAD” — two jars filled, four jars actually full-on, god-help-me canned, and god do I need a bigger stockpot if I’m ever doing this again.

Oh yeah, and about 6 ounces of pesto, not pictured, because the greenmarket was selling enormous bunches of basil and hell, we’ve got a blender and some pine nuts.


(Hm, too late for strawberry preserves this years, but maybe pickles? Wait, fuck, I don’t have a basement…)

(p.s. thanks to for the salsa recipe. it rocks muchly.)

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