Dinner down the hill

Eastside Road, —

BAVETTE IS WHAT Eric grilled, and that reminds me of our black cat Joe, because while his name was Joe, one neighbor called him Blackie, and another called him something else, I forget what at the moment — this was thirty years ago. This led me to fantasize that Joe undoubtedly thought of us as those-who-call-me-Joe, and the neighbor as he-who-calls-me-Blackie, and so on.

Bavette is what-the-French-call-bavette, and what-most-Americans-call-flank steak. Now that I look up the etymology, I realize I used to hear it called "bib steak" when I was a kid. Point is, it's a flap of muscle, no matter how you cut it, and it tends to be tough.

This one came from a nearby ranch and was, I'm pretty sure, from a Scottish Highlander steer: the grain's fairly fine, and while lean, as you see, it's moist and succulent: Highlanders have a completely different fat configuration than other steers, owing to their thick coat of hair, and their flesh reflect this somehow.

Eric grilled it in the fireplace over a wood fire, also some eggplant slices; Thérèse had made some delicious grated-zucchini fritters, and a whipped cream sauce flavored with basil and lemon.

Oh: and for a first course, this delicious salmon salad, a little blurry in the photo I'm afraid, that Lindsey'd made by poaching some nice fresh local salmon lightly, then flaking it with onions and cilantro and jalapeño peppers, dressing it ceviche-style with lime juice. Fabulous.

Champagne, Veuve Cliquot, nv; Petite Sirah, Bogle Vineyards, 2010