Tonight's Dinner Menu*
Dinner on the spur of the moment for four. It's great to have the ingredients available.
Salad: butter lettuce and mélange de printemps (spring greens, I think) with avocado, tomato, feta cheese and a few black olives. Oil and vinegar dressing.
Main course: grilled swordfish with a bit of wasabi seasoning.
Side: roasted vegetables--yellow peppers, green squash, and red onions.
Wine: Red Bicyclette 2003 produit de France SYRAH vin de pays d'oc -- an absolute find, rich, full, and fruity.
No dessert. The night is young and Blue Mountain Mist, a coffee liqueur I bought last month in Jamaica, calls. But I am alone. Pat has driven to the Keys to board up as Hurricane Ivan threatens. (Yes, the third storm this month. It's a record.) So I'll settle for a cup of coffee instead.
*Helm, this is a South Beach approved dinner (Phase2 or 3). Honestly, the South Beach is turning us into better cooks!
Carol, very inviting and refined menu.
A third storm? My, my. Say hello to Pat from me, plese.
Buon appetito, though late.
Paula
Posted by: Paula | Friday, September 10, 2004 at 02:38 AM
Carol -- your opening line reminds me of a most gorgeous writer, possibly translated, in a French even I can understand: Philippe Delerm: La premiere gorgee de biere. He writes short observations on the minuscule pleasures of life: the first drink you take from a pint of beer (is the best!), of being suddenly asked to stay for dinner when you called round at friends on a weekday, reading on the beach...
Aisha
Posted by: Aisha | Saturday, September 11, 2004 at 03:43 PM
Paula, Aisha,
Pat says hello to you both. Ah, vignettes by a bon vivant--that's what I'd like to do but in reality I'm not really a foodie. It's fun pretending, though. Maybe I'll *grow* into it.
Carol
Posted by: Carol | Monday, September 13, 2004 at 09:52 PM
Carol
Eating well is having your eyes opened.
You're walking down the sidewalk
in a city you hardly know
and the sun is engaged with oaks.
Lean buildings kneel by the river,
drink in reflections of themselves
and you become. The invisible ant
in the shadows becomes visible,
the trees are each leaf and the sun
whipping the backsides of clouds into gallop,
sings in the cremation of day,
just as you do with each bite of your meal,
just as the air does to be lived in by you.
Carol says, "Ten pounds and counting." (and a 10K run this spring :))).)
Posted by: Eliot Prufrock | Monday, September 13, 2004 at 10:23 PM