It was only a change of plan

Dear Food Diary,

Do you need any tomatoes?  Some asshole put six plants in my backyard this spring and, looking out my window now, I can see that tomato production has gotten somewhat out of hand.  So I made pizza from scratch Saturday, sauce included, but that only took about 10 tomatoes.  I may have to start canning, which I hate to do.

On the subject of of things I hate to do:  Remember when I ran that toad over with the lawnmower?  The toad turned out to be okay -- no visible signs of damage, though I ruined his grassy habitat and think I may have given him a post traumatic stress disorder.  Sarah and I felt bad about that, so we brewed a beer ("Hoppy Toad") in his honor.

After a couple weeks bottled (and through the magic of sorcery), the beer is now carbonated and ready to drink.  I took a sample outside to share with the toad, but he never came around.  I even used his favorite glass. 

I planned to leave the glass out there for the toad to find overnight, but the beer must have evaporated or something, 'cause it was gone by the time I went inside.

While I was outside I checked out some of our crops.

Hops crops.

A few of our (many) remaining tomatoes.

For supper we had garden stuff: roasted beets, refrigerator pickles (cucumbers, dill, onions -- plus some vinegar, honey, and seeds), grilled eggplant, steamed broccoli and green beans, and chicken wings.  The chicken wasn't from the backyard, though I'm sure you'll catch that thing yet.

It's So Intense

The day after our 3rd of July feast, I spent most of the morning in the garden tending our beans, beets, blueberries, broccoli, brussels sprouts, carrots, cauliflower, cucumbers, dill, eggplant, hops, melons, onions, pears, peas, peppers, radishes, raspberries, squash, strawberries, etc.  Plus I had to mow.  That kind of work requires a sustainful, nourishing breakfast.

While I was mowing, I noticed something move in a patch of grass I'd just passed over.  This guy was there, looking put out at the loss of his tall-grass habitat.

Sarah and I were so impressed by the nubbly fellow's survival skills (i.e. ducking and looking pissed) that we brewed up a beer in his honor that night: Hoppy Toad.

It's full of (Cascade & Centennial) hops, honey, (biscuit) malt, oats, and survival instinct.  Here it is in secondary fermentation, with whole Cascade hops and Citra pellets:

We just bottled it yesterday -- so it should be drinkable shortly.  When it is I'll share it with you, Food Diary.  And if I can find the toad again, I'll share some with him.

Your pal,
Matt