an elaborate ruse
“Do you know what the special is at Klee tonight?” I said as I walked in the door from work on Tuesday.
“Egg noodles with hazelnut pesto, sprinkled with crushed pretzels.”
“Are you saying that you want to go to Klee for dinner?”
“No. I’m just saying that there is a special that sounds really good. Doesn’t it?”
“We haven’t been there in months and months.”
“Debbie, are you saying you want to go?”
“Alex, I didn’t say that. I was just, you know, noting that if we wanted to eat that, we’d have to do so tonight. They won’t have that special again for a whole week!”
“I thought you wanted to make the carrot thing tonight.”
Right… the carrot thing. When Alex and I ate at The Spotted Pig last month, my second-favorite salad (after the mixed bean one, of course) include roasted mixed-color greenmarket carrots, cumin and avocado. I didn’t expect to like it so much–I worried it might be too sweet or heavy, but once again, that heavy helping of lemon juice woke the whole dish up. I have been itching to make it since, and a trip to the Union Square Greenmarket last weekend made it possible. By Tuesday, the avocado was ready to go, and from that point on, everything went wrong.
First, there was the cruel temptation of a neighborhood restaurant’s Tuesday night special that would demand no work, no dishes later, oh and provide us with wine, ideal as we were out. Next, we realized that the orange carrots had turned rubbery, soft and generally ew, and needed to be replaced. Then I decided that although the original dish had used unpeeled carrot, mine were looking a little rough so I decided to peel them taking the gorgeous purple with it! I pouted insolently. Next I realized we were out of ground cumin, which I had forgotten (I told you we are cumin-junkies; seriously, I think we went through 1.5 cups in just over a year). Too lazy to grind my own, I tossed the carrot with the whole-seed variety instead.
But, it was this last snafu that caused Alex to stand up from the sofa, raise his right finger in the air, clear his throat and declare “This is an elaborate ruse!” You see, I burned the carrots. What? Yes, people, I burn dinner too. It’s not my fault! They cooked really fast, and I resent the implication that I was just trying to finagle for us a (labor-free, dish-free and wine-filled) dinner at Klee.
Which was really good, mind you. I might have to burn dinner more often.
One year ago: Romaine Pesto and Egg-Stuffed Tomatoes
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