farm tomato omelet, zucchini and yellow squash, Colorado peach, miso soup

Kombu is a large seaweed that is dried. When dried crystals form on the surface. Japanese cooks wipe this away with a damp cloth. They believe that rinsing under water will forfeit too much of its flavor while not wiping at all results in too strong an MSG flavor. I think the crystals are MSG. They taste like it. 

These brittle pieces were wiped with a wet paper towel. The brittleness instantly softens. They're dropped into boiling water with the heat cut off. So they sit in there and steep for ten minutes. Basically, it's kombu tea. 

This kombu tea is the difference between Japanese miso soup and American style miso soup made simply with plain water and it makes all the difference in the world. The kombu pieces swell and become somewhat rubbery. They're delicious on their own. And they contribute significant flavor instantly to salads and to steamed rice and fairly anything else you can think of. 

I sliced a portion into kombu noodles. What the heck. They're fun to eat. I like them.

Miso is like peanut butter except it's fermented. That's why it's so easy to eat and so nutritious. Bits of tofu and my kombu noodles and miso bits are sunken inside this bowl. 

Colorado peaches are extraordinary right now. 

I'm going to go down to the market and fill up my backpack with them then walk around to the businesses here and pass them out. Because it's a real shame to miss the window of opportunity.

I ate a slice of peach then a sip of Coke and the peach is sweeter and better tasting than the Coke. Back and forth I went like that staging a Colorado peach vs Coke war, and peach won every taste battle. But it won't be like this for long. No. Sadly, the whole thing closes down.

And the same is true for Colorado farm tomatoes. They're positively excellent right now. Ugly little tings. These two things are just tremendous. So it's tomatoes and peaches all day, every day, until the whole thing phases out and we return to horrible peaches and plasticine tomatoes. Look at me. I'm getting sad again already. I must hasten and o.d. on both. 

"Doctor! Doctor! What's the diagnosis?" 

"This man has o.d.ed on tomatoes and peaches."

"What are we going to do with him, Doctor?"

"Just let him go. He'll ride it out. It all passes too soon." 

They should make me cook at a nursing home. This meal is very easy to eat. 

And the strong flavors of jalapeƱo and mind-blowing cheddar cheese can blast through their dentures and past their dental plates. That's why they like sweet things and salty things, and strong flavored things. Their dentures are wrecking their sense of taste. They don't like things such as freshly ground pepper. The bits get underneath their plates and irritate them annoyingly. 

But this is extremely tasty and very easy to eat. The contrasts are splendid. 

But then some nutritionists will come by and say that some element or another disrupts their aging digestive systems and it'll be back to bland and unimaginative food all over again. That's why they die so unnaturally quickly once admitted. There is nothing to live for. If they were just taken shopping for their own food once in awhile then the endings to their stories would be improved. 

I just made that up. 

Because I was admitted to a nursing home one time for ten days recovering from an accident, a very nice place, and I got a good view of the picture. I despised their food. Even though it was very good. I still hated it. And I couldn't wait to get out and do my own shopping. Now just picking out my own potatoes gives me genuine joy.

Because that task was taken from me.

A friend came into my room and said, "The little yellow sign outside your room says, 'wet floor,' so I did." 

Is he naturally hilarious or what? 

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