The vast majority of what we eat, we prepare ourselves. It’s healthy; nutritious; tasty; the way to control ingredients; and a very important skill/art to engage in.
Dinner on the way. Clockwise from top: garlic; roast pork loin; potato; carrot; onion. Offstage and waiting to play their parts: salt and pepper; turkey stock; crushed tomatoes; Hatch green chilies; ground cumin.
It’s quite good.
I will return on Thursday.
I saw these tracks – probably a fox – after an overnight snowfall at my workplace.
We try to keep our pantry and freezer reasonably stocked.
Having a stocked larder makes it easier to come up with tasty and nutritious meals that we like. A well stocked larder simplifies the task of preparing one of our go-to recipes or trying something new.
Extras and leftovers go into freezer bags or yogurt containers so we can either have a quick dinner or whip up a lunch to take to work. We do not regularly buy lunch at work. While Fayes’ workplace has a good cafeteria the cost adds up. I work in the boonies so spewing pollutants to go out and spend money on food it make less sense than taking what we make.
Having a fair amount of food on hand also serves as insurance. A price spike or sudden unavailability is not impossible. Same with a layoff or other loss of income, foul weather delaying or preventing altogether food deliveries, or other calamities.
We take the same approach with the dogs. In addition to this 20-odd pounds of kibble in the vittles vault there is another unopened bag on hand.
We have several weeks of food on hand for two-and four-footeds, which is more than some people have and less than others. It’s enough to cushion the impact of the likeliest calamities, which is the goal we aim for.
Lucy likes hanging out on the back of the couch. Fitzi is content to take the lower bunk.
A seagull adds a touch of interest as it powers through a sunny, brisk winter day.
I was captured while capturing a most marvellous sunrise.
Rosy hues suffuse this image of day breaking over a snowy field.
Back on Thursday.
The St. Clair River is asleep, waiting for spring – or at least a lengthy thaw.
Fitzi, being a black dog, often blends into the background. Not this time.
Far across a snow-covered field, trees stand out in misty, pale dawn light.
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