This Is What We're EatingWe are eating snacks. We are eating pretzels and goat cheese dip, we are eating potato chips and a different goat cheese dip, we are eating crackers and goat cheese. The goat cheese is a goat's milk gouda. It is not aged. It is a creamy white, and sweet. It is very nice.
We are making salad. We have cleared room on the coffee table so that we can chop up the blood oranges and the fennel and carefully put the pieces into the bowl at our feet. Onto the small cutting board goes a bunch of mint to be roughly chopped, and it joins a handful of pine nuts in the bowl. The mess is dressed with a little bit of blood orange olive oil, which I had never heard of, and barely believe in. The salad is mostly oranges.
The next involves chicken. The chicken swam in marinade. The chicken now sits beneath a blanket of peppers and onions and mint. Would the weather have been warmer, we would grill it on soaked skewers outside over coals. It is not, so under the broiler it goes. It is nothing we have ever made before.
We are doing all of this while the Steelers play; as my brother points out, there is plenty of time. I will also note that my brother has gone to take a shower, perhaps in hope to wash the gunk off of himself that is making us tank.
Faith.
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