Walt Whitman, childless, lonely old grubber, poking among the meats in the refrigerator and eyeing the grocery boys.
My roommate finally point blank told me I needed to clean out the fridge. I knew it needed to be done but honestly it had become one of those things that I had put off for so long that I had become afraid of what had grown in there. I was also conscious of the fact that what ever had grown in there was probably sentient by this point.
But I had promised the roommate I would do it…. so I dove in head first.
The Adventure continues…..
Pan grilled tuna with spring peas and a spearmint horseradish sauce.
Came home from work and dealt with something upsetting. Withdrew to the kitchen and began chopping, mixing and stirring. Lost my self in the splitting of shells and the plunking sound of peas in a bowl. Ended up with a red wine risotto with the peas from this Saturday. Extra cheese and my favorite bowl. I ate in silence at the dining room table watching the sun set.
I’m not resolved about this. But I’m fed and have dishes to do.
Yukon potatoes cooked in duck fat with raw green garlic and sea salt.
Had some fruit lying around.