Merely five minutes ago, I was sitting reading Jane Austen, forcing myself to relax, when I got up without really thinking and walked toward the kitchen to open the oven. Of course there was nothing inside. I'm just crazy and felt like there was. I could have sworn I had thrown a tart in there or something. Did I not?
I did, however, make an excellent okra curry for dinner. My mother returned from Tennessee today, and she brought me 30 lbs. of White Lily flour (yes, t-h-i-r-t-y, which should make about 300 pie crusts I think), some peanut butter moon pies that I am avoiding this week, and some fresh okra from my aunt's garden.
I followed this recipe, threw the okra in with half fresh tomatoes and half canned, and ate it with some plain yogurt and naan. Now I am happy as a clam.
Camera Phone Photo for Photographic Evidence that I eat things that don't contain butter.
And, no, I don't have a tart baking. I checked. Again.