No Chutney this Year
It wouldn’t be Vernon Street, the street that the rest of the world wants to live on, if we didn’t do some canning every Fall. My Chutney is famous. Too famous.
When the hockey sticks come out, family and friends for coast to coast put in their requests for Werner’s famous Chutney. But tastes change and sleeping dogs lie. This was the year for Peppers. Gotta go, I think the Helpers have arrived.
Now that that is done (and I have made this note in my “diary”), I am going to make myself a grilled cheese sandwich, have a Sapporo beer and read that article Moon Baby gave about the mighty Pike. Ice fishing and canned peppers, mmmmmmm–I can’t believe that I am telling you about my inner life.