You can keep your endive and your apple, but pass the grapes please.
Mind you, the other things were nice, but I am in love with the grapes.
Going to switch things up a bit this week and cover all the "food stuff" on the front end this week. Bon Appetit published the recipe - it can be found here.
For the first time in a dog's age, I stayed true - except for the omission of the rosemary and the pepper. And used a red Moscato to deglaze the pan and form my sauce.
I went into this with a bit of a "what the...?" attitude and came out kind of in love.
Of course, a 40 minute saute in butter would have magical powers on just about any food (can you say caramelized onions?). And it was so stinkin' simple, to boot.
I was stuffing my face with this at 8:00 (late dinner), so I have no other opinions than my own. The Dude is out of town on business and it was long past The Karate Kid's self imposed 7:30 PM bedtime. (I think she is the only high school Senior I know of that puts herself to bed before 8:00 on a school night.)
I want to believe that it wasn't just my late night hunger that had me Jones-ing for those grapes.
There might have been a couple hearty hunks of focaccia involved as well. But if there are no pictures, it didn't happen, right?
On another note, I seem to be going through a mid-season funk. Is it just me?
I am bereft at the thought of summer's passing.
I like autumn and everything, but my head knows that soon I will have to turn on the heat.
The frost on my back deck will be replaced with snow and ice.
And I will have to start wearing closed-toe shoes again. (I hate wearing shoes to begin with, so the foot-confinement of winter makes me want to cry).
I AM happy to get a break from the insane heat that was the hallmark of this summer (this was the summer that finally broke my air-conditioner-less stance).
It is nice to be able to get back into the kitchen after several month's of minimalist activities.
The changing leaves are pretty (until they fall down into the back yard and I have to clean up after them...)
Of course, with autumn comes cross-country season.
It is strange watching Runner Girl on her new team.
Getting to know new faces and new courses.
I wasn't sure what to expect.
For example - was I going to be the only mother schlepping all over the Northeast to watch her child compete? (The answer is "no" - there appear to be many other sets of parents just as insane.)
When she was in high school, I used to wonder if it made a difference to her whether or not I was at every meet. Frankly, there were days when it didn't really seem like she wanted anyone there.
After she graduated from high school, she answered that question (without my even asking). Yes, she always knew I was there and yes, it mattered. Apparently, it mattered a lot. Which means I'll keep on schlepping. It's what we do, right?