. Spinning .

Finally bottled last year’s wine, 24 bottles of grape and 24 of crabapple. I didn’t make the same mistake I made two years ago with adding the sweetener without vitamin C to stop fermentation from starting again.

I’m getting a little bit neater at bottling. Though I made a mess when I first started, the siphoning process seems a bit beyond me and took a while to realize that if I raised the bottle above the level in the five-gallon jug, I could smoothly stop the flow and fill the next one. Once I got the hang of it, things went more smoothly. That is, after I sopped up wine off the floor, sprayed on the cabinets, and all over me.

Every year I swear I’ll never make wine again. Then the crop comes due, peaches turn rosy, crabapples sparkle on branches, the grapes hang in heavy bunches, and I don’t have it in me to let it all go to waste. Wine, believe it or not, is still easier to make than jelly or canning the fruit and when you get a bumper crop, that’s the fastest way to handle the load.

After a bit too much tasting of wine, I made a mess of fried shrimp for dinner and luckily read the recipe this time to find that you dust the shrimp (or fish) in the dry mix first, then add a cup of cold beer to the rest of the mix to make a batter that will stick and not simply slide off.

This was perfect with a onion and garden tomato sliced into balsamic vinegar as a summer meal.

Oh yes, and a civilized glass of wine.

Big elections coming up in November and already, in the heat of July, the lies fly. It’s all bullshit, always has been, always will be, but I’m seeing that this year, more than I’ve noticed before, the political ads and interviews are completely useless in choosing your candidate. Unless, of course, you’re of the vote-your-party-mind or the new kid on the block which is the vote-out-every-bastard-holding-office opinion. Personally, I’ll likely do as I always do, dig into their past achievements. Since the Democrats are singing the same song as the Republicans that all of a sudden the most important thing on the agenda (particularly in Connecticut) is creating jobs and cutting taxes, there’s little to be gained by listening to the campaign speeches. Cripes, we’ve got everybody pulling for the middle-class, maybe even for the middle-aged instead of the usual front-runners, the poor and the kids. This may well be a first. At least they’re all smart enough to recognize the importance of what’s going to decide their political careers, if not holding an honest recognition of the issues. And as always, all they have to do is convince voters that they believe what they’re promising.

As you know, some of the best meals come from simply pulling stuff out of the refrigerator.

This started with about a pound of leftover shrimp, using the cocktail sauce but adding a bit of hot Thai sauce and oyster sauce along with some garlic, baby bella mushrooms, broccoli, and shredded carrots for a stir-fry over brown rice. Yummy!

Note the crummy old Lodge iron pot–I’m never prepared to take pictures when I’m cooking. I have a whole set of LeCrueset yet I seem to like the iron pots and oddly enough, the old white Corningware cookware for most meals. Actually, yes, that’s the rice in the Corningware on the burner behind the shrimp.

Despite the cool and trendy anti-American sentiment that’s too abundant these days, I think July 4th weekend is a good time to look into our historical roots and see exactly what brought the citizens to revolt against an oppressive government and make sure that the intent of the Revolution is still in the hearts of our people. So I made a turkey on the grill.

I just can’t seem to do anything wrong when making a turkey. In thirty years no matter what, my turkeys always come out excellent and moist and I think maybe this should be carved on the rock out in the woods that will mark my resting place some day. “She never made a bad turkey.” Well maybe his little feet were burned off because I put him in a small pan–and he did turn gold brown and crispy after I took off the tinfoil cover, but he was moist and delicious and made the best gravy.

I should have taken a picture with the appetizers on the table but as always, I forget about everything else but food when the food’s out. Deviled eggs, three pounds of shrimp, grilled hot Italian peppers with anchovies, fresh bread dipped in garliced olive oil, jalapeno dip, and cheese. The white wine was exquisite, from Chile, Luis Felipe Edwards Savignon Blanc and our own homemade grape. The turkey, mashed potatoes with cheeses, and gravy were the main meal served with a salad and homemade dressing. Nobody had room for the peaches and frozen yogurt, which is why I really didn’t bother with a big dessert. Jim and I aren’t big on sweets and never order dessert in restaurants, so I always plan something light anyway. Unless it’s one of our dessert focused do-it-yourself crepe extravaganzas with four fillings and four sauces and fresh-whipped cream.

Conversation went through reminiscence to current affairs and politics. Not a formal dinner by any means; just good friends. All in all, a great day.

Setting up my meal for tomorrow: Turkey done on the grill, mashed potatoes and gravy, salad, some kind of vegie, with shrimp cocktail, jalapeno dip, deviled eggs, stuffed cherry peppers, and cheese for appetizers, and vanilla frozen yogurt with fresh peaches for dessert. But I always look for last minute things to make and while I don’t follow food blogs (I have a counter row of phenomenal cookbooks) I sometimes look for a specific recipe online.

Well I happened to be on Facebook and checked out a commenter and then some of her commenters and came across a great food blog that has photos and recipes that really, really appealed. Guilty Kitchen is it’s name, and Elizabeth cooks much the same as I do, or at least the same things I do–like shrooms and such–and her recipes are simple yet seasoned in a more fanciful manner than I usually bother with doing. Nice stuff.

I wish the US would once again declare its independence and turn to and have faith in its own people and shed the shackles of global ties. Sharing and dependence are not the same thing. Let’s celebrate the intent of this holiday, and recognize and comprehend its history.

Hopefully I will never settle into a state of contentment in life. Unless, of course, I’m housed in a mansion with a Jag gleaming black and wicked in the circular drive and a housekeeper who is willing to make the dinner whenever I really don’t feel like cooking.

It seems that as we get older, we often reinforce some personality traits (good or bad) while others may mellow a bit. Sometimes we even change completely in our ways and get adamantly vocal and insistent in certain areas. I find myself more focused and aligned on political or society issues. My neighbor has become more demanding on personal service. Like yeah, you’re going to tell the cable guys that they must be there within twenty-four hours when you have service but sometimes your modem needs recycling to connect.

There also seems to be an appreciation for the things we’ve learned to take for granted. Like rain and green grass. This morning woke up with the gentlest cool breeze and a slight mist hung in the dawn after a night of running around opening and closing windows to let in air, shut out rain. I checked the garden to see if it would still need watering after last night. It didn’t, but I was overcome with beauty, order, life.

There is a sense of nature stronger in the bluer early morning than when the sun’s yellow light tinges all with a universally warm glow. Each color seems to stand out on its own in a non-competitive display. Like seeing all the pixels in a picture.

Then there’s what we leave behind that doesn’t scream but mellows into a tangle of memories. Like the old garden, now gone to weeds and flowers that pop up everywhere they find a spot to sink their roots. I wish sometimes we were a bit more like nature, but the human part intervenes. Torn between instinct and discretion, urge and wisdom. I suppose there’s something too in that.

This is one of my favorite peonies and as happens every year, they burst open and the rains come and destroy them. This one was freshly showered early this morning and I had to take a picture before I cut him and brought him into the house. I’m always hesitant because while the peony is dependent upon the ants to help the buds open, the ants like to hang around for the life of the bloom. I washed it thorough under running water and shook it out good so that I can enjoy its lovely rose-like scent.