There’s more to life than dogs. Really!

10 September 2017

This post has been inspired by the imminent change in season up here in Vermont.  And it has been equally inspired by a visit to the Stowe Farmer’s Market today.

Mac, Teddi and a young Aza. Princeton, 2014.

When temperatures shift and the early morning weather requires Patagonia, Arcteryx or the like, our faces wear smiles in Vermont.  We do not dread the upcoming winter.  Rather?  We look forward to it, as do my Tibetan Terriers.  A cold weather breed at heart, they’ll soon be greeted by snow and smells of winter.

What to do with duck eggs on a Friday afternoon. 8 September 2017.

I move from outdoor grilling on the porch and into the baking kitchen.  This past Friday, Lizzie called me, as she had six fresh duck eggs and asked, ‘What shall we do today?’  I have a great recipe for a cardamom pound cake and that is exactly what we baked.  And we invited friends over for a great piece of beef, baby Brussels and a lively salad.  Soon, we’ll be drying sweet potato chips and beef liver in the AGA for the doggies . . .  and my Pete’s Greens deliveries will resume, along with my osteo arthritis.

So, this is where the story really begins.

This morning, I started my medical marijuana treatment with 1/4 lozenge of the Merry Widow or whichever variety I’m on to keep my hands pain free.  I didn’t think much of it, other than to notice that I felt some side effects that I know will fall by the wayside, within a few days of consecutive use.

So, my hands were hardly even on my radar, when I got to the Farmer’s Market.  Rather, the bounty of the summer season controlled my attention and I tried so hard to buy selectively, knowing that I’d end up in the kitchen this afternoon as a prep cook with all I found in my bag upon my return.

September bounty from the Stowe Farmer’s Market. 10 September 2017.

I always start on the right at the exotic vegetable lady’s stand.  Today?  I bought pineapple tomatillos.  They’ll be terrific in a pork or ham glaze.  Then, continuing down the right, I bought some gorgeous heirloom tomatoes, patty pan squash, kale, fresh basil and an Hermes coloured winter squash.  Beautifully coloured!  I think it was a Kuri squash.  We got them last fall in our Pete’s shares.

Google this farm! Buy his treats! BEST LIVER TREATS EVER! 10 September 2017.

Next stall was the Sage Hill goat farm lady and her cheeses.  Soon after?  The man who dries the most amazing beef and pork liver treats that have my doggies learning ANY new tricks.  And around the circle of vendors I continued, until I bumped into my rental clients who arrived yesterday and had their nine year old neutered apricot mini Poodle with them.  I know they love Farmer’s Markets and I’d told them about the man with his liver treats, yesterday.

He said, ‘We found the liver treats.’  She said, ‘It is the farm from whom we’ve been buying our beef mail order for the last couple of years.’ (Mary’s a retired professional chef.  Used to run one of Lydia Shire’s restaurants in Boston.)  Then, he said: ARE YOU INTO PASTA?  MARY’S BEEN ON A MISSION FOR THE BEST EGG PASTA IN THE WORLD AND SHE THINKS SHE’S FOUND IT.

Wouldn’t you know, it would have been my last stop, as it was on the left end, at the beginning of the circle of vendors.

Yet another way to ingest cannabinols. Suffer from anxiety? Eat this. ;>)

So, I made my way over and as another egg pasta fan, I notice that there are three offerings: Egg (as in plain), Tri colour (obviously coloured with veggies) and CBP.

Well, in MY world, CBP = Clear by Parentage.  It is a phrase we use when both sire and dam have tested clear of a genetic mutation.  CBP.  And I test every other generation, JUST TO BE CLEAR.  Pun intended.

So, this beautiful young woman with her two Tomgirl daughters is offering me a taste of the plain cooked pasta with Reggiano cheese and butter, and sharing her enthusiasm for the CBP pasta as a natural remedy for people with anxiety.

Pasta for people with anxiety and other issues?  Hmm.

I’m listening and I’m processing and I ask whether exposure to the high heat of boiling water might not undermine the effectiveness of the natural remedy.  ‘Oh, no’, I’m told.  ‘The CBP doesn’t deteriorate, when exposed to heat.’

And then, I hear this guy – cute guy, too – behind me with a lady friend saying, ‘Cool.  They’re using CBP’.  DEFINITELY NOT Clear by Parentage.  Is it the next rage, now that so many are practicing gluten free?

So, I turn around and ask him how he has come to be familiar with this, thinking that I’m really pretty well exposed to all new sorts of natural remedies . . .  and he says, ‘I’m a licensed grower in Massachusetts.’  And it all clicks.

CBP is a cannabinoid.  It is a marijuana product and marijuana needs to be cooked, in order for the cannabinoids to release their medicinal properties.  That’s why it is smoked and baked.  Butter confit of marijuana.  That, I’ve made.  But it has been IMPOSSIBLE to control the dose, until the introduction of medical marijuana.  Whether you’re on one side or the other side of this political fence?  Know that being able to control the dosage is vital, whether it’s Advil or THC.

So, I turn around again.  This time, the beautiful woman is smiling at me.  She asks whether I would like to buy any pasta?  And I’m smiling back at her.  She tells me that she adds 40mcg of CBP to each pound of flour.  I tell her that I’ve had my first lozenge this morning, in anticipation of the change of season and increase in my osteo symptoms – and, yes, I’d LOVE some of her plain egg pasta – but none of the CBP, thank you.  I bought a half pound and laughed & talked to myself, all of the way back to the car.

Never did I think I’d see the day when THC laced pasta would be for sale at the Stowe Farmer’s Market.  Cracked me up!  Lynne’s laughing and suggesting that when the officer pulls us over to ask why we’re driving funny – we say, ‘Oh, officer, we just had pasta.  Our special pasta!’  Too funny.

Non, thank you, RASTA PASTA. I’d like a nice Chianti, please. ;>)

At the end of the day?  I prefer a nice glass of red wine with my pasta.  Maybe a rose, if we’re doing a seafood dish.  Something I may well do this evening, when I cook my Rasta Pasta for supper.  It just cracked me up.  Thought I was so hip, back in 1974.  Now?  Holy moly; feeling anxious?  Eat RASTA pasta!  We’re still laughing and we haven’t even tried it.  ;>)

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