Eastside Road, May 10, 2011—
OF COURSE ONE COULD eat it every night of the week. Well, four nights of every week. Lamb, I mean. Tonight it was a seven-pound leg, not roasted but cooked on the grill — just how, I'm not sure; Mac did the honors, out in his back yard — we were eating out at friends'. Charcoal obviously involved.
He cooked it bloody rare, thank Aesculapius, and it had fine flavor: flesh, a little salt, the grass it had been raised on. With it a nice composed salad: fusilli, red and orange bell peppers, poblano pepper, scallions, sugar peas, wild arugula, in a delicious olive oil.
Dessert: Lindsey made a lime tarte. She'd wanted to make a Key lime tarte, but no Key limes were to be found; we had to be content with Persian limes. I'm quite content.
Prosecco; Pinot noir: Husch, 2007; "MSG" (Mourvedre, Syrah, Grenache), Preston Vineyards (Dry Creek), 2009
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