Smoked Salt

This is the pizza I made for dinner.  The crust was Portland Pie Wheat and John tortured it into fitting the pan-- there was cursing.  I brushed it with olive oil and layered on the potatoes (beautifully cut by my very simple Swiss mandoline).  I crushed five cloves of garlic together with Salish smoked salt, using my Alaskan cutter thing (an uloo?), sprinkled that over the potatoes and added chopped fresh rosemary.  It cooked about fifteen minutes and tasted great.

This is the first time I have used smoked salt.  John said that it smelled like the house was burning down.  From what I have read on the internet, smoked salt is very useful in dishes like vegetarian bean soup where the salt replaces the flavor meat might otherwise give.

It has been an adventuresome week foodwise.  I finally prepared fresh fava beans for the quinoa, roasted cauliflower and fava bean salad recommended by Martha Rose Shulman and I also baked four beautiful cippolini onions.  Last night I made a mushroom, green pea and basil risotto and I liked it much better than the tomato and eggplant one I made last week.

My day felt unproductive because I twice drove my neighbor, Wayne, on his errands.  Firstly I took him to the town hall because there was a mix-up with his tax bill-- something outlandish like their thinking he had land in Florida-- John and I both told him to stay calm about it but calm is not in his nature.  Then we had to make his customary round of Hannaford, Dollar Store, Key Bank and Jack's Grocery.  Fortunately I also dashed into Hannaford and mailed an Amazon book at the post office so I made the most of doing my good deed.  It occurs to me to wonder if I drive him because I am a nice and kind person or because I am unable to refuse.  But why should I refuse?  He has no car, poor health, few resources and the need to go places.  I have a car, enough money, "free" time and a desire to earn good karma.  That being said, I AM unable to refuse.  The other morning I was deep into the garden, wet from a drizzling rain and covered with dirt.  I said "I really don't want to stop and go uptown-- I would need to change my clothes, etc."  He responded, that I didn't even need to get out of the car.  As always he insisted that he "wouldn't hold me up"-- just wanted to go to Hannaford, etc.