Eastside Road, August 23, 2014—WE EAT EVERY DAY, even the "fast days" (which are generally though not always Tuesdays: when we have only breakfast and, at tea-time, tea and perhaps a handful of nuts). But I seem to have given up blogging every day, because there have been too many other things to attend to. I'm sorry. I'd like this blog to have something of interest to someone, every day; but…
Let's recapitulate, then. We returned from a quick tour of Seattle and Portland a week ago today, and were content that day with one of those marvelous jambon-on-buttered-baguette sandwiches we always try to get at Mix, in Ashland, on the way down. Lately instead of thyme-infused butter they've been made with Dijon mustard-infused, which is fine; though I did like the thyme a lot — time to do that ourselves, I guess.
Last Sunday we bought the salmon you see here, which Cook simply broiled in the gas oven, serving it with a good dollop of Larry Forgione's barbecue sauce — it turned up in the pantry — Nancy Skall's unbeatable lima beans, and some sliced tomato.
Monday I frankly don't recall; that night we went out to see The Hundred Foot Journey, about an Indian restaurant set up to compete with the one-star across the road in a Provençal village; a very sweet movie if perhaps a little hokey. Tuesday we fasted.
Wednesday, though, was my birthday, and we feasted. I spent the morning making a big batch of pesto:
Alas without pine nuts from our own trees — another matter to get to soon — but with very good ones from Spain; with three big bunches of basil, good garlic, local olive oil, and good Parmigiano Reggiano and Locelli's amazing Pecorino, good thing we bought a lot of that last time we were in Italy.
There were old friends visiting from New York, and a couple of old friends of theirs who were new and welcome to us; we ate out on the patio, and after the Champagne you can be sure we had plenty of white and red, thanks to John and Linda.
And to celebrate further, that evening — Wednesday — we drove into town with friends to our favorite local restaurant where I had a burrito al pastor and a beer.
NEXT DAY, NOTHING NEEDED beyond a simple omelet. My first was a disaster, of course; I hadn't made an omelet in months; I was using a favorite pan that hadn't been used in years; I used only olive oil, recalling that wonderful closing scene in The Big Night. The second omelet, pictured here, worked out a lot better, because I reverted to butter, which I have more experience with. Inside, just a little grated Parmigiano, salt and pepper. Lightly buttered toast, of course, and sliced tomatos: what more needed?
Then yesterday we had leftovers from my birthday, fusilli con pesto — I do like this pasta; I'll try to find out from Cook what brand it is, and post that tomorrow. If, that is, I get back to maintaining this blog properly…