LETTUCE PRAY

Did I tell you that I'm a vegetarian? (Since only a few friends and family members are reading this, I know there won't be many gasps of surprise.) I have been several kinds of vegetarians in my life. When Kurt and I were young and invulnerable, we were the kind of vegetarians that would share a large platter of pasta, an entire loaf of home baked bread, and an apple pie at one sitting. We both grew to realize our highest body weights ever as that kind of vegetarians. Frankly, I just don't get it. Pasta sauce and apples are vegetables and fruit, no?

Now we are the kind of vegetarians who eat vegetables. We haunt the Farmer's Market and the outside aisles of the grocery store. We grow what we can and buy what we can't. Salads! We love salads! To keep you from imagining that I think that I'm holier than thou art, just let me tell you that we also love cream and butter and eggs and anything made with cream and butter and eggs. And wine and beer and the homemade flour tortillas from the local grocery. . . See how this happens? If you're not careful, even a vegetarian can end up as a little fatty.

As we speak, there is a tray of veggies roasting in the oven. Red potatoes, a chopped up garnet yam, some radishes and some darling baby turnips. (And yes, I saved those darling baby turnip greens for another meal.) The veggies were washed, dried on a towel, put into a plenty-large bowl and drizzled liberally with olive oil. Sprinkled with some rather extravagant smoked salt and the classic white, black and green pepper blend with allspice, it was mixed together and spread, not too crowded, on a sheet pan. The oven is 350 degrees. The cook is hungry.

When all is fork tender and lovely, it will go on a bed of mostaciolli with a ladylike crumble of goat cheese over top. If the spirit moves me, there may be some toasted pine nuts in the picture. I love veggies! If this was smell-o-blog and you could have what I have right now, you would say the same. Wait! You can have what I have. Get roasting!

p.s. While leaving a bit of the stems on the darling baby turnips looks chic, be aware that this creates a hiding space for sand. If you don't like that abrasive crunch with your upscale, fork-tender veggies, be sure to rinse well!