Bruschetta

Eastside Road, September 20, 2012—

WHAT COULD BE simpler than bruschetta: slices of bread, preferably a little stale, rubbed with raw garlic, toasted in the oven, drizzled with olive oil, salted and peppered, and perhaps topped with something. Here, with leftover broccoli seasoned with red pepper and other things, just what I'm not sure, as Curt prepared it, oh, a week ago Sunday.

But we had that with our green salad, the first green salad we've had at home in days; it's been so long I almost had to think about how I usually make the vinaigrette (minced garlic ground together with salt in the bottom of the salad bowl, then covered with olive oil and left to season while we eat dinner; the vinegar whisked in at the last minute before adding the lettuces and tossing).

Dinner was, as you see, a sausage of Franco's on a bun from Downtown; green beans from the market, tomatoes ditto, zucchini from Anandi's garden. And dessert was Bosc pears from our tree, an Italian prune ditto, a peach from Dry Creek. Locavores, that's what we are these days. Even the wine:

Carignane, Preston of Dry Creek, 2009: mature, smooth, balanced, rich