Oh: that Queen of Sheba cake just continues to taste better — as it diminishes in size.EXACTLY THE SAME dinner as yesterday; we'd cooked enough for twice as many people. I guess that means tomorrow will be the same. I did steam a few more Brussels sprouts; otherwise there was nothing more to be done; Lindsey warmed up the leftover potatoes and carrots, and we ate cold sliced roast pork, and why not?
The evening did give us the chance to test the hypothesis I'd just read somewhere the other day, that desserts always improve on standing and should therefor be prepared a day in advance. Indeed, Reine de Saba was even better tonight.
MAKES A NICE SOUP, it does, this combination; deep, substantial, and very satisfying on a cold rainy night, winter well on its way. Lindsey found the recipe on a website called Cooking Light; I don't know how she found the website. She had no parsley, so omitted it — that's winter for you! — and substituted fennel, which she had, for celery, which she didn't. Floated toast atop the soup, with grated Parmesan on it. We had the regulation green salad afterward.
Two caffelattes for breakfast: a little over a cup of nonfat milk, that's about 100 calories.Total, a little over 400 calories! I'll probably celebrate with a banana (another 100 calories) before bedtime…
A couple of dried apricots for lunch: another 40.
Maybe 2 ounces of cashews and almonds at teatime: say 60
A baked potato with a few drops of olive oil, about 180
A cup of romanesco, another 35 or so;
Cocktail time, this delicious flatbread, pizza dough I would guess, rolled out very thin indeed, baked on a grill, and spread with olive oil and salt, and accompanied by a little dish of fine hummus; a delicious accompaniment to a Manhattan*. And then came dinner, at home:
Grilled cheese sandwiches. This was on another Downtown Bakery bread, don't know the name, Lindsey bought it, and remembers its name featured the word "Italian." (The cheese was Abondance, brought home from Netherlands last month. It tastes of Savoie.)Early in our marriage, when I worked as a laborer for the City of Berkeley, Lindsey wrapped a couple of liverwurst-and-onion sandwiches made with dark dense but still pre-sliced and cellophane-wrapped bread from the Co-op. Later I used to walk three quarters of a mile down to Spenger's to get a loaf or two of Colombo's sourdough bread, baked in Oakland in those days; it was best bought at this otherwise unsatisfactory restaurant because it was trucked to them innocent of any wrapping, no cellophane, no paper, and the crust was therefor perfect.Cellophane-wrapped Wonder-type sliced sandwich bread, of course, like everybody ate in those days, suitable only to be squeezed into doughy balls in your hands and used to clean typewriters, not that anyone has a typewriter these days Franco-American "French bread," favored by my father, who occasionally brought a loaf home to be sliced not quite all the way through, spread with margarine, and sprinkled with garlic salt (the horror! the horror!) The bread Mom baked, using a jar of yeast she kept on the windowsill: too airy and filled with holes at first, over the months changing until it was dense as cheese and about the size of a slice of two-by-four
The tuna was canned albacore, the Sacred Sea brand caught off Oregon — a different thing altogether from the Ortiz brand we also like, but a nice alternative, one doesn't want things to be always the same. Green salad afterward.
Andrew at seventy-fiveThe party was a festive affair, black-tie, Martinis before dinner, then,
Proud December Orion,
High and clear, like Arion
Thanks to the gods still alive
I send sevens on your day
Knowing they edge toward your work
While making little mark.
You, dear Andrew, odd at play
And pressed, must still smile today.
Let these numbers have their say,
Proud December Arion,
Riding on your dolphin’s back,
Three fourths the circuit well run,
May we enjoy, prosper, thrive
Through another twenty-five!*
