Stir-fry

Eastside Road, March 21, 2011—

WE EACH GET A VETO, I said in my usual oldest-male dictatorial way; mine is No Chinese Food.

L. and her four sisters, and three of us guys, deciding what to do about dinner. We'd lunched together at a local egg-shop joint, and that hadn't been bad; the others had pancakes or French toast or omelets; I had a Greek salad and a glass of Sauvignon blanc.
• Omelette Express, 150 Windsor River Road, Windsor; (707) 838-6920
But where to have dinner? We wound up at Susan's place, where we feasted on stir-fried carrots, peppers, onions, and broccoli; and microwaved “Coq au vin” from Trader Joe's. Stir-fry will always say “Chinese” to me, I'm afraid: there's something about cooking all those vegetables together, mixing the flavors but leaving the textures out of kilter (because each thing needs a different amount of cooking time, but doesn't get it) that seems foreign and approximated.

And the “Coq au vin” was cornstarch-thickened, another cliché of ordinary American “Chinese” restaurants. Nor did I taste the vin, but what the hell: there'd been plenty of Sauvignon blanc and Yellowtail Syrah to soften the blows. In all, I've eaten worse, lord knows. And the most important component of dinner is the company, and the company — family — was as good as it gets. (And a few slices of warmed sourdough bread, drizzled with olive oil and sprinkled with salt, anchored the meal in familiarity.)