Burger with a goat cheese & pesto spread, specially mixed by Bean. On the side; grilled mushrooms and spinach, with olive oil and garlic and salt, and a dill pickle from Panera that Dear Morg did not desire.
Today we went on a glorious hike through the White Mountains. It took:
three mountain peaks
lots of whining (and water)
and to me it was simply a glorious time. I was with some of my favorite people (Bean, Meeds, Grab, and Kras), and the scenic views abounded seemingly without end. And though it became apparent on the descent that my right knee has become semi-permanently damaged from so much running, it was wondrous. A perfectly sunny and cloudy day, and wind wind wind, and conditions so perfect I hardly think I broke a sweat all day, though the climbs were certainly present.
Bean, unaccustomed to such prolonged physical trials, was inclined to let me cook dinner (a very rare occurrence). I made a big pot of basmati rice, with some:
thai curry spices
And for Bean, it was topped with a fried egg. Mine was wrapped in grape leaves and baked with the remainder of the mushrooms (and some pretty lil' pea sprouts).
And I rediscovered, as I always do, how a little bit of time in the kitchen allows me to revel in (and be, in a way, cured of) my wonderful weariness.
Red meat? It never occurs to me until times like this -- a beautiful sunny (thunderstormy) day where there are lots of friendly mouths to feed. We sped to the grocery store on the moped but got drenched unexpectedly on the way back.
And since there are so many people to feed (Nick, Paige, Mike, Ma'am, Morgue, Simon and I) my burger, being smaller than the rest, suffers a terrible fate -- that of being cooked all the way through. So this time, Simes and I waited until minutes after everyone else's burger was grilling to add ours. And finally, mine was wonderfully red and juicy, oozing out over the toasted Saloio bread roll and Fontina cheese.
On the top: pea sprouts and mushrooms, grilled in foil with olive oil and Italian spice. I cannot tell you how good...
While still only halfway through the work day, Simon announced that he had bought this cheese at a local gourmet food shop (snobs, snobs, snobs). It was called Tintern, and is an aged cheddar cheese made by Welsh monks that is stuck all over with chives and shallots.
While 1/2 pound of pasta (we used gemelli) is cooking, melt 3 tablespoons of butter in a saucepan. When it's smooth, whisk in:
3 tbsp flour
1 tbsp mustard powder
and move around for a few minutes. Then add:
3 c. milk
1/2 c. onion, diced
Simmer for 10 minutes.
Then, have your beloved boyfriend
dice up tons of cheese (the chive-filled, and some sharp cheddar); 12 oz. total:
(and do not forget to sample it)
And add 8 ounces to the milk mixture. Mix in the cooked pasta, throw it in a dish, and top it with the rest of the cheese.
And bake at 350 degrees for half an hour; add bread crumbs. We thought it would be more solid, and afterwards I felt as if I were being dragged down by an inordinate amount of mass, but....it was pretty good.
Shortly after Nana's sister died, my dearest grandmother sent me a recipe for blueberry cake. This cake, when baked by Ruth, was something simply heavenly in her mind. But when she tried to make it, it was never "quite right." She wanted me to try.
And what better time than for her birthday-on-the-hill?
The directions, though, were terrible, and I had to throw out all of the batter after mixing the whipped egg whites in far too early and creating a disastrous mix.
And even though I blow at making cakes, always turning them into decrepit, crumbling structures, this was quite good with a bit of vanilla ice cream, whipped cream, and brandied cherries!