Eastside Road, May 24, 2013—I FORGOT TO MENTION yesterday: vegetable soup in any form — minestrone or a simple spring soup like this — is one of the Hundred Plates, indispensable. To my pleasure and undoubtedly to my health it was dispensed once again tonight.
Tomorrow we dine with friends at their house; ball's in their court. I will of course be appreciative; I always am. (And we pick friends well, I think; and they invite us with a degree of caution we generally find a little amusing and a little more unnecessary.)
There may be soup; there may not. It won't matter, as we've had it now twice running, and things are back in shape. Afterward, fava beans, first of the season here, beautifully cooked and lightly buttered; after them, green salad, nicely dressed if I do say so.
Ah: breakfast. Again, a half dozen of those nice radishes; I have to get a couple of bunches tomorrow. The Nation, several pinches of salt, toast and honey, and café au lait, made tastier by the salt, and seen here not yet coffee'd…
Cheap Barbera d'Asti