After a weekend away, or a weekend with a guest in town, I go into homebody mode. My desire for a wild late night slows to a simmer and instead I turn to laundry, cleaning, bill paying and just getting things done. I want clean sheets and squeaky floors. I want watered plants, lit candles. My pile of junk mail disappeared, old food thrown away.
Part of this slowing down involves food (of course). I associate food with comfort, good memories, love, warmth. It's been a bit chilly here in Los Angeles and the raining on and off makes me want to stay in and cook all day and read. I don't have the time to cook all day but tonight I am making a veggie lasagna with homemade marinara sauce. I'll put on my glasses and sweats and dive into 100 Years of Solitude.
During the week, when I have even less time, I've been making picnic plates. Gouda and Granny Smith apples sliced super thin; dry salami; perhaps a clementine. Infatuation and I will stand in the kitchen and work our way through salty parmesan and asiago. This past week we even devoured an entire stalk of celery. Gone, every last crunchy bite. Something about a good glass of red wine and a European-style picnic plate, even if eaten standing in my teeny galley kitchen, makes for a perfect ending to a stressful work day.
The above photo is a picnic plate from a wine trip up north last summer.
1 comment:
Blogging late at night puts me at risk for becoming v e r y hungry.
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