a very little dinner

Now listen to me, if you buy something you would never normally buy at the grocery store, and you never use it, and it sits in your fridge until you have to throw it out, that does not count as trying something new. That just counts as buying something new.
And I know that it takes three times as long to make dinner when you are looking at an alien on your counter. You have to drag out the cookbooks and call your friends, call your mother and get way more involved than you need to on a weekday at 6 o’clock when you have no time for all of that.
The idea is important though. It’s like walking down a different block to get to the subway or parting your hair on the other side to see what else there is to see and see what it feels like.
I always buy cheddar, fresh mozzarella and Parmigiano Reggiano. Sometimes I buy gorgonzola. But last week I had to get more of something that I tried for the first time only a few weeks ago, because it was so good. It’s called Miticrema Spreadable Sheepas. Who knew? It is like falling down in a field of clover and the little lambs are munching the grass around you, and the sky is all around. It’s delicious. It transports. And you could make it into spinach pies or you could just make a very little dinner and spread it on a rye cracker with baby arugula leaves, avocado and pepitas. (buy pepitas toasted and salted–they’re pumpkin seeds). Drizzle with lemon and olive oil, and season with kosher salt and freshly ground pepper.

I’m leaving for Italy on Wednesday, so I can only eat very little dinners; my heart is breaking at the thought of being that far away from my Ferdinand for even a minute.

2 thoughts on “a very little dinner

  1. everytime i read your writing there is something warm and comforting in it. it always seems like there is heart in your food and in your words, which is why i read again and again.

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