This Apron Queen of the Hunt is poised and ready for the kill. Her steely gaze and determined expression are requisite tools for harvesting...
The are prey. The are innocent victims. The vine-ripened, home-grown, heirloom tomatoes, they have a date with destiny.
The big game huntress has her kill carefully gathered in her apron. The tools of the harvest are in hand, the fruit is gathered, the party is coming...
The Salsa Goddess spies her quarry. She surveys a large herd in the distance. It was apparently a good season and many of the young have survived. The huntress has only to pick her prey.
They can run but they can't hide.
Captured with no chance of escape, these tomatoes are fated for chopping, roasting and slicing. Tomorrow will dawn a day for feasting.
The Junior Huntress stalks her game. It is large, round, multi-colored, and very bouncy. There is a certain gleam in her eye in anticipation of the kill.
Well, maybe it ate her instead of the other way around...
But at least she gets the title of first kid in the Jumpy House!!!
This, dear Apron Goddesses, is my kitchen counter. Let the Tomato Harvest Party commence!
And the carnage... Four kinds of salsa!!! West position: Fire-roasted salsa. North position: Green zebra tomato salsa. East position: Salsa Fresca (all raw vegetables). South position: Mango-peach salsa.
WHERE ARE MY TORTILLA CHIPS???
Oh yeah, I have to wait for the party to start.
Oh yeah, I have to wait for the party to start.
Salsa payback is hell. My fingers have been burning for hours with the jalapeno peppers that I handle to create these masterpieces of dipping delight. I know, use gloves....
A day of rest will be required on Sunday. The aftermath will come next week. So much partying to do. So little time...
