Things are getting stressful at work. I’m in management and the real estate market is going through the floor (which is a hint for those keeping track) and my stress is just crazy.
… which is my way of justifying how much wine I drank last night!
Here’s the thing. Jenn – you remember Jenn, right? Jenn puts together a cookbook every year and has graciously invited Vicky and I to contribute a recipe. I didn’t contribute last year because, well, I was still out of work and feeling useless. This year, I’m just as useless, but employed.
For the past few months, whenever Vicky wants me to cook and I’m feeling lazy… um, pretty much whenever I cook, I’ve been doing this thing where I sear a chicken breast or pork chop and then bake it under a thick layer of sauce that is my creation. Vicky really likes it and it’s easy and so Vicky suggested I write it down for the cookbook.
But… write it down? I don’t think she realized what she was saying. Basically, my cooking method is to chop up whatever’s in my hand – basil, tomatoes, shoe horn – and cook it and hope Vicky doesn’t barf. How could I write it down?
Okay, long story short, it wasn’t that hard. I knew, basically, what I did. Even though I varied most of the time, the basic concept was there. So, I made a couple variations, measured everything, wrote everything down, et voila!
As I was cooking, I looked over at our wine rack. Vicky and I are the kind of people who love buying wines, all kinds of wonderful wines – well, all kinds of wonderful Pinot Noirs, at least – but we don’t really drink them. So, we have a few, is what I’m saying. A decision to open one led to ten minutes of trying to decide which one to open. My favorite bottle is our David Bruce 2004 Pinot Noir and we have a couple of bottles, but I like to save that one for more special occasions. Instead, I reached for a bottle of Echelon. Vicky first tasted this at a restaurant in Santa Ana – Memphis, I think – and then I had to have some. We both loved it. The 2005 Pinot Noir hasn’t exactly aged well – but it could just be the bottle or the fact that I didn’t take the time to really enjoy it.
Now, I opened it with Vicky in mind, so we could share the bottle. By the time I mentioned it to her, however, she’d already opened a beer. (We’re not a family of boozehounds or anything – it was just one of those days.) So… someone had to drink the bottle, right? We laid back on our sofas, watched Desperate Housewives on DVR, got a little toasty… it was nice. I got a buzz; I got the recipe. Now, I’m back at work and writing this.
But it was nice while it lasted.