For all you gourd lovers out there
For all you gourd lovers out there
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For all you gourd lovers out there
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Post #1 - October 30th, 2009, 4:09 pmA friend of mine just sent me a link to this fine piece of prose which, I believe, sums up the fall season quite nicely. It's a little raw, so if you're sensitive about language, it's probably best to skip this one . . .
http://www.mcsweeneys.net/2009/10/20nissan.html
=R=By protecting others, you save yourself. If you only think of yourself, you'll only destroy yourself. --Kambei Shimada
Every human interaction is an opportunity for disappointment --RS
There's a horse loose in a hospital --JM
That don't impress me much --Shania Twain
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Post #2 - November 3rd, 2009, 10:00 amFall-king hilarious!
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Post #3 - November 4th, 2009, 11:54 amWell, if you're looking for essays about squash, this one is a classic. And funny, too:
"In the spring of 1857, I planted six seeds sent to me from the Patent Office, and labelled, I think "Poitrine jaune grosse," large yellow squash. Two came up, and one bore a squash which weighed 123½ pounds, the other bore four, weighing together 186¼ pounds. Who would have believed that there was 310 pounds of poitrine jaune grosse in that corner of my garden?
These seeds were the bait I used to catch it, my ferrets which I sent into its burrow, my brace of terriers which unearthed it. A little mysterious hoeing and manuring was all the abra cadabra presto-change, that I used, and lo! true to the label, they found for me 310 pounds of poitrine jaune grosse there, where it never was known to be, nor was before.
These talismen had perchance sprung from America at first, and returned to it with unabated force. The big squash took a premium at your fair that fall, and I understood that the man who bought it, intended to sell the seeds for ten cents a piece. (Were they not cheap at that?) But I have more hounds of the same breed. I learn that one which I despatched to a distant town, true to its instinct, points to the large yellow squash there, too, where no hound ever found it before, as its ancestors did here and in France."
from "The Succession of Forest Trees"
By Henry D. Thoreau
Read to the Middlesex Agricultural Society, September, 1860
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Post #4 - November 4th, 2009, 3:03 pmronnie_suburban wrote:A friend of mine just sent me a link to this fine piece of prose which, I believe, sums up the fall season quite nicely. It's a little raw, so if you're sensitive about language, it's probably best to skip this one . . .
http://www.mcsweeneys.net/2009/10/20nissan.html
=R=
This sonds like it was written by that Accountz Reeceevin' brothah, Herbert KornfeldSteve Z.
“Only the pure in heart can make a good soup.”
― Ludwig van Beethoven
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Post #5 - November 4th, 2009, 6:55 pmstevez wrote:ronnie_suburban wrote:A friend of mine just sent me a link to this fine piece of prose which, I believe, sums up the fall season quite nicely. It's a little raw, so if you're sensitive about language, it's probably best to skip this one . . .
http://www.mcsweeneys.net/2009/10/20nissan.html
=R=
This sonds like it was written by that Accountz Reeceevin' brothah, Herbert Kornfeld
May he rest in peace. We'll mourn ya til we join ya.
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Post #6 - November 4th, 2009, 7:56 pmOr, it reminded me of the Bible salesman.Watch Sky Full of Bacon, the Chicago food HD podcast!
New episode: Soil, Corn, Cows and Cheese
Watch the Reader's James Beard Award-winning Key Ingredient here.
