Speaking of Okra

The Latham Price Chopper has had good, big, fresh okra in the produce section the last two times I’ve gone shopping, which fills me with happiness and gratitude, even though I know it’s only here because a vegetable truck must have gotten diverted or something. I’m sure somebody in Low Country South Carolina is in a grocery store today wondering where the okra went, and what the heck this arugula stuff is anyway, and whether it can be cooked in a pot with fatback.

I sliced my okra up when I got it home, very much enjoying feeling the knife and cutting board grow ever more slimy as I did it. It went into a pot with some bacon (the fatback truck evidently really made it to South Carolina this month) and some diced tomatoes, then I set it on a low-medium heat burner and forgot about it for a couple of hours. When I returned: perfect stewed okra! Mmm mmm good! Eat it up, yum! I even tried to incorporate it into an elegant Valentine’s Day dinner last Sunday night, with rice and kebabs and salad. Marcia and Katelin politely dished some onto their plates, then hid it under some spare salad bits. Oh well. It was the thought that counted.

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