Salt

So it's no secret that I love salt. And I have been blessed with friends who understand how much I love salt. Tonight, as I cooked supper, I realized I have 13 different kinds of salt--8 of them a gift from my dear friend Beth, who lives in a converted whorehouse in Deep Elem in Dallas, TX. And I haven't even called to thank her. For the salt, or for living in an apartment with such a colorful history. Anyway, yesterday, when I made chicken salad, I used the Thai Ginger salt, and it gave it a certain tang.

Tonight I'm cooking turnip greens, and I tossed in some Alderwood Smoked Sea Salt--although I'm not sure I shouldn't have used the Porcini Mushroom Salt. But maybe I can sprinkle some of that on the big, heirloom tomato I snagged at the Farmers Market this morning--and may I take this opportunity to rant about the "farmers" who are selling shit they clearly bought at some wholesale place?

But my guy's tomatoes were clearly his, warty and bumpy and imperfect,and he was as irritated as me at the fotched on produce. Anyway, if I salt the tomatoes now, they'll exude a nice juice that we can sop up, along with the pot liquor from the greens, with the little cornmeal pancakes I made. And I've got some shrimp ready to toss in a boil with some Zatarain's and WCN! favorite esoteric spice, allepo pepper.


Who cares if I bloat up like a beached whale? That's what I'm having for supper tonight.

Postscript: Oh, hell yes.