To my count I spent nine weeks in Iowa last summer.  Nine weeks of eating at the Dairy Queen and Pizza Shack.  It is nice to be recognized when you walk in – but of course it is a mixed blessing.  I escaped my mothers tiny town every weekend to the city of my youth and the home of my BFF from high school in West Des Moines.  We spent our days drinking heavily, trying desperately to get my hair color to something beyond grey and  eating – my  childhood favorites –  jelly filled doughnuts, cottage cheese, chips and dip, taco pizza, deep fried pork tenderloins – just to name a few.  But here I am – just back from Italy (via Daytona Beach) with a suitcase full of deep green, fresh as can be, olio novello.  Our first stop is the grocery store.  A huge enterprise – larger than the average grocery store in Washington DC .  My goal is to find stuff I can pour oil on.  We load up our shopping cart with vegetables.  Artichokes, green beans, grape tomatoes, potatoes and cauliflower.  When we get to Cara’s – dinner is on.  We put all  of the vegetables on baking sheets and pop them in the oven.  We slice a baguette into thick pieces and put them under the broiler.  When they are nicely browned (maybe even a little blackened) I rub them with a garlic clove and begin the drizzle.  I have several customers who buy one bottle of olive oil a year.  This is not the case for me.  I pour liberally over the freshly toasted bread, over the roasted artichokes, cauliflower, beans and tomatoes.  We leave the chicken breasts for tomorrow and dig in to our feast.  Vegetables roasted in the oven, a sprinkle of salt and a heavy hand with this years new harvest of oil.  It can’t be beat!  Maybe 15 liters wasn’t enough!