Eastside Road, December 20, 2012—AND THERE YOU have it: tomorrow may be the first day of winter, but we have chard from the garden tonight. Well, not really from the garden; that implies care and foresight on a gardener's part. This was volunteer chard, springing up outside the vegetable beds, in the pathway, where winds or birds or insects may have carried seeds from last year's crop. Green, red, yellow, and white chard; small leaves no bigger than my hand, with stems no broader than my little finger, and a little bitter to tell the truth, but tender and colorful.
With the chard, the last of that rice-and-potatoes Kichuri from the other day, and a particularly piquant sausage from Franco, found in the recesses of the freezer.
Primitivo, Grifone, Puglia, 2010: cheap, forthcoming, balanced, pleasant