Dinner was so good.
It was all the better because it was so impromptu. Not that what I’d been planning was so bad, just that what replaced it was heaven.
I had some ingredients that needed to be used up (pattypan squash and a large heirloom tomato). Then I made an abrupt decision to pick up a few groceries. I had planned to wait a day or two, but we were low on milk and if I had to get that, then I may as well get the rest. I’m sure you understand.
So at the store, I decide it’s time we had some fish. I could cook it tomorrow. At the fish counter, they are setting out lovely salmon steaks that happen to be on sale. That settled, I check out and head for home.
At some point, I remember we’re having dinner with my daughter and son-in-law tomorrow, at their place (their new, first-owned place, isn’t that cool?). Which means, oh I’m not cooking the fish tomorrow.
I am not freezing fresh, wild-caught salmon steaks. I must cook them tonight.
So… I broiled the salmon, after brushing it with olive oil and adding a bit of salt and pepper. Simple. I threw a couple of potatoes in the microwave (I know. Not the preferred method for baked potatoes, but when dinner is impromptu, exceptions must be made).
I considered sauteeing the squash, but inspiration said to slice them (they were big), brush them with oil and add them to the same pan the fish were on.
So I did (with a little salt).
Then I made a white-wine-butter sauce with scallions.
Do you see how this is coming together?
Dinner was served with a Mondavi 2009 Private Collection Chardonnay. This sounds much more impressive than it is, but there’s no doubt it’s a very decent wine.
Oh, and the crowning touch?
Well, I’m not one of those people who keep sour cream on hand. We don’t eat enough of it, so I only buy it when I need it for a recipe or I know we’re having baked potatoes. Since tonight was impromptu, I didn’t know about the potatoes ahead of time. But I did have some blue cheese in the frig. I won’t tell you what kind, because if you know about it, you will scream, either with jealousy, or with fury that I would waste it on nuked baked potatoes.
Oh, all right. It was Cowgirl Creamery’s Humbolt Fog.
I know. That stuff is the nectar of the gods and it should only be eaten in private, preferably naked, and with someone you utterly adore. I got two out of three.
And it didn’t hurt the potatoes a bit.
But wait. You know the second-best part?
See, I couldn’t eat all my salmon or all my potato. So breakfast (for both of us since there’s enough leftover) will consist of a salmon-potato-Humbolt Fog-frittata, with whole wheat toast. And a sliced heirloom tomato, because even though you’ve forgotten about it, I haven’t. It needs to be eaten before age takes its toll.
Thank you for your attention. This moment of silence is now over. Go in peace, my children.