As I remember it, every bird and insect in the south-central San Fernando Valley made a beeline for my ragged row of radishes, and with such ragged solar panels the actual produce emerged from the ground stunted and misshapen and scarcely fit to defend themselves against Leo’s scorn. I came out of 7th grade Ag with a gentleman’s C.

All this said, I think that the snarky Atlantic piece (“ACORN-loving?” —give me a break) does not make its case against the targeted program. In the worst case, I think today’s seventh-graders will feel damned lucky twenty years from now if they know the rudiments of coaxing protein and carbohydrates from the ground.

I long ago lost count of the library, but I suspect it’s somewhere north of 3500, and my otherwise admirable old house does not, in its present or in any contemplated or plausible arrangement, have room for all of these along its walls, so I must reluctantly contemplate culling the herd at some point. But at the same time I want first refusal on your library. Have you accounted for the available titles in machine-readable form?

Your loan servicer does indeed sound clueless. It’s not one that was until recently headquartered in a caffeinated quadrant of this great land, is it?

http://www.opacity.us/

http://www.cookingforengineers.com/

I may attempt your posted recipe provided the absence of cornstarch isn’t a dealbreaker since, as you may recall, L is death on corn, or corn on her.

I grilled a monster ribeye from the Food Hole a couple of evenings ago: full three inches thick, thirty-five bucks, but three nights of fare.