Sunday

Lunch:

Greasy Chicken Paella (wine tasting at Elena's in Lunenburg)

A most remarkable chunk of basque sheep's milk cheese (idiazabal)

Dinner:

Macaroni and Cheese (made with said idiazabal, parm and cheddar)

sourdough

edamame steamed in the shell

So, though I haven't mentioned it, I wasn't able to get my herbs last Wednesday, because it was still getting too cold at night. New England doesn't allow such things. Even this Wednesday may be too early. Drat. I know the season will come soon enough and that the simple pleasure of walking barefoot out into the yard with a slice of fresh mozzarella, and wrapping it around a big ripe cherry tomato, wrapping a big basil leaf around that and biting into it will come soon enough. As will the sun-brewed sweet tea I make to drink all week. The power of a sudden thunderstorm ripping the sky apart and bending but not breaking the giant maples in the yard. Then the happy wet smell of grass that has just drunk fully from nature's measuring cup and not come up wanting for anything. Soon, but not soon enough.