Fresh Bruschetta I Didn't Share

I woke up Sunday morning to a patio covered in plants--basil plants.

The counselor, who loves gardening, decided it was time to uproot his summer garden in preparation to starting his fall garden, but what was he to do with all the summer basil?  He did his own internet research on how to preserve basil and decided he would dry it.

He spent most the morning plucking leaves off stems, washing and laying basil leaves out to dry.

Our home smelled like an organic Italian restaurant in the outer provinces of Italy that serves only raw vegan meals because the basil is so mild and delicious, they don’t dare cook it. 

With so much fresh basil, I had to make something delicious.  Then, I had an idea.

Once a month, our church has a ‘munch and mingle’ after Sunday services. 

“I should make a huge batch of bruschetta,” I suggested, knowing how much it would be appreciated by those attending.

(image found here)

I had garlic bread, balsamic vinegar, cold pressed organic olive oil and . . . feta.

My mouth was watering just thinking about it.

Directions for ‘munch and mingle’ are to bring a plate of cookies, fruit or veggies, but bruschetta would be so unexpected.  The dipping of bread, the intense variety of flavors; I would make a generous batch so everyone could have all they wanted.

We went to church, but I skipped out a bit early.  I needed to come home and make the freshest, tastiest bruschetta ever for the sweetest, kindest, most amazing people at my church.

What a feast it would be!

Once home, I turned on some Italian opera music and started chopping tomatoes and basil.  The colors were gorgeous.  I added just a touch of oil and vinegar, a dash of salt and crumbled in my secret ingredient . . . feta.  After buttering the sourdough bread, I put it in the oven on broil. 

My perfect bruschetta was ready and I drove back to church just as ‘munch and mingle’ was about to start.

But the parking lot of the church was near empty.  Everyone was clearing out of there in a hurry.  I parked the car just as the counselor excited the building.

“What about munch and mingle?” I asked realizing how silly one sounds saying ‘munch and mingle’ in a sort of whinny panicky voice.

“Didn’t you know its next week,” he casually said and opened the car door so the kids could jump in.

“Is there basil in the car?” he asked because inside our car it smelled like an organic Italian restaurant in the outer provinces of Italy that serves only raw vegan meals because the basil is so mild and delicious, they don’t dare cook it.

“Yes, I told you I was making bruschetta for the ‘munch and mingle’ that I thought was today” I said, disappointed.

“Oh well,” the counselor said with a twinkle in his eye.  “I guess that means we’ll have to go home and eat it all the bruschetta ourselves."

All of a sudden, the situation didn't seem so desperate.

So, that’s how the counselor and I spent our Sunday evening; listening to Italian opera and feeding each other spoonfuls of bruschetta while we ignored our five children.

Just kidding about that last part.

We finally gave them some attention when the sun set and their eyes became droopy.