The Kitchen Garden Novice's Chagrin

I am convinced the Universe is mocking me. You be the judge.

I took a weekend trip to visit my daughter, another reluctant convert to the vegetarian life choice. Our plan was for a marathon culinary session to teach her the basics of cooking. I gathered my food processor, tongs, peelers, oils, vinegars, and spices. I almost packed one of my basil plants for her, but...since I had just harvested the top layer of leaves for lasagna, I decided against it. My puny little basil was hardly an impressive gift.

Our first stop was at the local farmers' market. Lots of great produce, and in the first booth I spotted a familiar bit of greenery among the tomato plants. Let me say here, the resemblance to my puny basil buds at home extended only to the shape and color of the leaves. This fragrant plant was the size of a growing teenager next to my baby buds.

"Sweetie, would you like a basil plant?"

That was the beginning of a purchase never meant to come home with us. Five booths later at the market, I realized I had laid the basil pot at one of our stops and walked off without it. So we backtracked to retrieve the orphaned plant. There it set, four stops back. No matter. We had scored most of the produce for our cookathon and were heading home, anyway. We just needed one quick stop at Trader Joe's for whole-grain pasta.

And there in the entrance to Trader Joe's we spotted them--basil plants so large they made my daughter's little orphaned herb look like a dwarf. They were like basil on steroids. How did they do that? I eyed the tags suspiciously. Yep, they were organically grown, and...50 cents cheaper than the plant I'd picked up at the farmers' market.

"Gee, Mom, guess you should have waited, huh?" my daughter observed.

We spent the rest of the day peeling, shredding, sauteing, seasoning, and baking--a joyous celebration of cookery. Somewhere amidst all that activity we contemplated the best place for the junior basil plant. It temporarily found a spot on the floor in front of the dining-nook windows.

Sunday morning, the realtor called to say she was in the neighborhood and would be stopping by--in twenty minutes! Yikes! Frantic clean-up ensued. In the melee, my daughter kicked over Basil Jr. and had to sweep up dirt. It was an omen.

The realtor arrived with a house warming gift. Can you guess what it was? That's right. One of Trader Joe's Incredible Hulk-sized basil plants. "I'm taking Basil Jr. home with me," I sniffed.

But it never happened. In my scurry to pack up the car for the ride home, Basil Jr. was forgotten. It's probably just as well. I'd hate to give my Baby Basil an inferiority complex. Then again, it might have given him someone to look up to.

So you tell me. Is the Universe mocking me? I think the joke is on me. Ha..ha..ha.