The first night of Rosh Hashanah is upon us, and my boys are packed off to services, and I have a rare evening to myself. I cleaned up my room, threw in a load of laundry, and put a piece of haddock on the broiler for dinner. It was a very simple preparation, one my family does at the end of a long day where everyone is too tired to cook, just white fish with salt, pepper, butter, and a splash of lemon juice, broiled for ten minutes, then put between two pieces of hard bread with a leaf or two of lettuce. I am eating it now, parked in front of the TV in my very clean, very comfortable bedroom, and thoroughly enjoying myself.
Heh. It occurs to me that this dish is the one I made for what I consider to be my only truly failed dinner, the time I tried to cook for Taylor's Star Wars campaign. Nobody ate much of any more than one dish each, and as simple as the haddock is I still overcooked it; I had yet to get a feel for my broiler's heat. The failure still haunts me. Most of the people who attended that dinner don't really remember it anymore, but I can only hope to outlive the memory of that day. :-)
I am enjoying the quiet. I don't believe anyone else is home right now. The enormousness of the pleasure of that state of affairs for me is matched only by its rarity. It likely won't last long, either, so I'd better savor it while I can.
Shana tovah, my dears.
0 comments:
Post a Comment