Cod. Omelet.

Eastside Road, August 6, 2010—

I'M NOT A SHORT-ORDER COOK, my mother would say on the very rare occasions that someone asked for a specific dinner item; ours was not a family that strayed far from culinary routine. Nor am I: but tonight I made an omelet for Lindsey, because that was what she wanted — two eggs, a handsqueeze of water after rinsing the hands, fork it into a fairly smooth mixture, cook it fast in olive oil in the pan reserved for the purpose, load it with grated Parmesan, fold it, flip it, salt it, serve it.

And for myself a fillet of cod, frozen I'm afraid but allegedly wild-caught, quickly cooked in olive oil in a black iron skillet, turned and coated with a chopped mixture of olives, lemon zest, garlic, and parsley, don't forget the salt. For both of us, green salad afterward.

Rouge du pays de l'Hérault, Moulin de Gassac, "Guilhem", 2008