Dogs and oil

Eastside Road, November 27. 2013—

AFTER THE FEASTING last weekend in Los Angeles, and fasting yesterday, today — the day before Thanksgiving — seemed a day to eat judiciously. Well, sorry to let you down. We had hot dogs

We had them the usual way: cook grilled them in the black iron skillet, turning them a couple of times, while warming the buns in the oven. With them, mustard, pickle relish, sauerkraut, and raw onions.

Those onions always remind me of my gratitude in being retired. For years it was not comfortable for me to eat raw onions; they invariably left me with an upset stomach. I tried them from time to time, of course, to verify this, and they always gave me trouble. The day after I retired, though, for some reason I was exposed to raw onions. I tried them, and for the first time in years they had no ill effect. Take what you like from this story.

On the side you see some broccolini, cooked simply with a little oil, a little water, a little garlic. And after dinner, of course, a green salad. Tonight we observed a historical breakthrough almost as dramatic as my restoration to raw onions: in the vinaigrette, our own olive oil. We picked 24 pounds of olives ten days ago, and took them to the community milling held once a year in Dry Creek Valley. Yesterday we picked up the result: our share of the community product was a half gallon of very green oil, unfiltered I believe, a little tangy, a little buttery, with a bit of a bite at the back of the throat.

You see it here in our stainless-steel salad bowl, covering a clove of garlic mashed up with salt. I use the fork for that operation, and just before serving the salad I whisk in the vinegar using the fork with a quick side-to-side motion, making a very smooth dressing. 

Then a tangerine and some dates. A good dinner.