paella

paella, paella, paella, i cry!
if you don't give me paella i surely will die.

nowish marks the end of what will go down in history as the seattle tomato binge of 2011.  for several weeks, a spurt of indian summer delicious weather (the only summer we really got, to be honest) has spurred the synchronous ripening of every tomato in the western united states.  there was no getting away from them, and no desire to.  it was a regional orgy of solanaceae, during which no citizen of cascadia was free of the bacchic urge to dig their teeth deep into a ripe heirloom varietal with bulbous proportions with the ritual signification of orpheus' innocent body...

devotees of this newest of gods, the lycopersicae, wandered the farmer's markets in unthinking lust for the flesh and the red blood that brings delusion and deliverance.  their Rauschkünstlern composed massive dirges and fraught dithyrambs to their temporary god...

so i made paella.  at the close of this strange and sacred time, i had various pieces of tomato in the fridge which were a bit too gone to eat fresh, but still worth their weight in gold in flavor and the sacred drug.  i used the recipe from this wonder of a blog (cutting some corners, as is my wont) to make a delightful dish.  i was a bit skeptical about the amount of paprika, not being overly experienced in paellas, but the outcome was truly dyonisiac.

o nonexistent readers, share your own harvest fancies and delusions.