Borough Hall itself. Seat of Brooklyn power. The cafe tables and chairs arrived about a year ago, I think, and turned the unused and paved piazza into a place where people wanted to be. Even in sticky summer.
I was hunting black currants, again. But they had all been snapped up by a man who had told the vendor that his wife smashed them with sugar, kept them in the fridge and that they spread them on bread. Sounds like a Swede, don't you think? So I will try again tomorrow. "Come early," said the man.
And too-far-gone-for-me male squash blossoms (the females turn into squash. Huh: Don't we all, if we are not careful? I have to go back to gym.) Very fresh blossoms are easier to stuff, but these wilted petals are too hard, if not impossible, to separate. They would still be fine as a cooked vegetable.
Oh. I am wary of those big red tomatoes. I think they are too early. They have tunnel written all over them.