Passata and Kalamata

I fished through several recipes from my BBC cookbook today and finally found one
a) for which I have most of the ingredients and
b) my hungry/picky family will not complain about, here at the homestead.

Most of the recipes use fantastic ingredients only found in the Scottish Highlands or Heathered Moors or something. Many of them use ingredients I've never heard of in my life. Today's selection: Passata. What the hell is passata? I had to Google it and figured out that it's some kind of crushed tomato paste that's probably somewhere in between the varieties we have in U.S. stores. I'll be substituting smashed up canned tomatoes, thank you.

Brits. Geez.

Yeah, I know, we love 'em anyway.

At least I have the black olives in stock (California, actually, not Kalamata).

In other ground-breaking news, my husband agreed that Mommy and Baby should sign up for our respective classes. I'm happily buzzing about looking for which ones can handle us. Something active for baby to expend energy so she'll nap, something somewhat stimulating for Mommy to remember she has a brain. As you can see, Mommy has taken to talking about herself in the third person, so it is questionable.

Off to set my salivary glands going in the kitchen.