In Arkansas, where in July and August you can have weeks running of days in the 90s and 100s–that’s when it’s 90% humidity (or feels like it) and 100 degrees or more–there is absolutely no tall cool libation that hits the spot like an icy cold gin and tonic. Okay, some would argue that an ice cold beer ranks up there, but when this Southern Magnolia wilts in the heat, it’s a G&T for li’l ole me. Diet, of course, the tonic, I mean, not the gin…lots of crystal clear ice…big squeeze of lime.

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It’s said that the Eskimo have 29 words for snow to be able to convey the nuances needed to describe exactly what kind of precipitation they mean. It stands to reason that they would need such an expressive set of words, since in the frozen winter wonderland, snow of every conceivable type is pretty much all they see.

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It seems like we’ve been in the car on the road a lot lately. The myriad rules and regs imposed on flying by the TSA and FAA have made it, for us at least, easier to drive to a destination that’s within 5 or so hours than it is to fly to it. By the time you get to the airport an hour or more early, so that the TSA can maul your bags properly and the baggage handlers can mistakenly put them on a flight going to Dulles instead of Dallas, a one hour flight becomes a 2 1/2 hour excursion at the minimum…

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Since the Fourth of July, we’ve been on an ice cream making tear, a fact which probably hasn’t escaped the notice of regular readers of this blog. I’ve heard from some of you who have tried your hand at making low-carb ice cream from the blog recipe and most of you reported that the taste and texture of these low carb creams are pretty darned good. And I agree. Their one deficiency is in what’s called ‘mouth feel.’

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Most Saturday mornings, when we’re at our place in Santa Barbara, you’ll find us at our local farmers’ market downtown. We’ve been avid farm produce shoppers for as long as I can remember and have haunted farmers’ markets across the country and even abroad, but I have to say that the Saturday market in downtown Santa Barbara is one of the very best I’ve ever seen.

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In the recipe I posted on July 5 for the Coconut Milk Ice Cream, an astute reader caught a glaring error: the last ingredient listed in this ‘supposedly casein-free’ version was (gulp!) heavy cream.

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Okay, the Coconut Milk Ice Cream I made for the grandangels was a hit. At least with the older one, who is who really needed to like it. Grandangel #2, who loves to help Granny cook, assisted in the making, but declared “Granny, this ice cream we made tastes a little wierd!” By which he meant that it didn’t taste like his normal “white” ice cream. Grandangel #1 scarfed his down straight away and I can attest, having done the taste test on it myself, that it’s yummy. Not to mention filled with really good fats.

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To me Fourth of July tradition demands a barbecue lunch topped off with real strawberry shortcake, made the old-fashioned way. That means flavorful, fresh berries, just swimming in their syrupy sweetened juices, poured over homemade honest-to-Pete shortbread biscuits–none of those little sponge cake cups they sell at the store for this Southern girl–with a big fat dollop of freshly whipped cream on top.

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Another one of those little news tidbits that Mike finds throughout the day and posts on the home page had the most intriguing title: Chocolate as sunscreen.

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Well, the kamikaze bunny ate my first tomato–actually I don’t know for sure that he ate it, but it’s gone and he’s highly suspect. Others tiny tomatoes are set, many blooms are yet to set, but the numero uno tomato of the season fell victim to Bunnicula. Mike, the world’s foremost tomato junkie, will not be pleased.

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