Dearest, dearest Catherine with the kids, date night with Yancey.
Happy Hour at Lola--squid and pork kabobs. Griddled pita with olive fig tapenade, oregano fries with aioli, dolmades with tzatziki.
Dilly-dallying at Pike Place while vendors packed up, walking around just enough to work up an appetite for gelato. Chocolate and caramel, ferociously "split."
Romantic comedy at the theater with a not-so-fairy-tale ending.
There are wars in the world. The Amazon is being de-forested, and I don't think clean coal technology is going to save us. The financial markets are woefully unregulated and families are going bankrupt to pay medical bills. There are teachers striking, kids sleeping in alleys, and plenty of reality to go around. But tonight, I've got this little fairy-tale-ending, knees touching under the table, and more recipes and reality soon enough.
P.S. Alright. For those of you here for the prose, I made this blueberry lemon buckle for Recovery Cafe--soaked with lemon syrup that crisped up to a sour, sticky crunch. A stocked pantry saves the day--wake up in the morning, have an hour to make two cakes, scrounge for lemons, blueberries from the freezer, and have absolute confidence there's buttermilk in my fridge. Of course there was.
P.S.S. What wonderful comments you've been leaving lately! I haven't had time to respond to many of them, but I am reading them, and they inevitably make my day. Whatever details of my life and kitchen I happen to record, I know they're not half as interesting as the lives you are all leading. I'm just the one that happens to be writing about it.