Armand

Armand has the most magnificent garden of herbs and berries and greens and it's all growing in raised beds that he cobbled together. Every season I walk by with Honey and admire it as it takes hold and flourishes. By the end of the season he's giving us bouquets of rainbow swiss chard, kale, collard greens, and herbs. I walked by recently, and we chatted about his chicken soup with garlic, and fresh lovage and tarragon. He goes to Federal Hill, to Hilltop Poultry, for his garlic and olive oil, and to Antoinelli's for his eighteen pounds of chicken backs. He cooks it up in a gigantic soup pot, making eighteen quarts of stock at a time. It takes all day, he says. Then he puts it up in glass canning jars. Over the winter he shares it with his children and grandchildren down the street.

He seems overjoyed that we like to cook and eat, too, and are interested in learning about what he does. I told him I bake all year round even on hot days, and I make pasta all the time, but my gardening is a bit timid. He offered to give us suckers from his yellow raspberries, and we accepted. He reminds me of my pal Rob who used to take an entire afternoon to make tomato sauce, seasoning it with basil, parsley, and oregano he grew in his North Carolina garden. Both men are tall and slender and avid gardeners. I wonder if we could live all winter off our garden if I grew and canned vegetables! When I told Armand I wished I could grow Greek olives, he lit up and said he wished he could grow bay leaves!