Pinky Swear

You must promise me that one evening, soon, when ambient light hovers and whispy clouds drift across the sky, you’ll make this dinner just so. You must promise to make the yogurt sauce with fresh oregano and grill the peaches and you must, I mean must, have a good beer by your side. And, if your partner in crime is not around, go ahead a leave the salmon just the tiniest bit undercooked. Promise?

Go ahead. Run to the grocer. I’ll wait.

I have no idea where this came from, other than that I saw a few grilled peaches in some magazine a few weeks ago and I felt the need for something other than a marinade. Voila! This whipped up in less than 30 minutes and I had time to water the lawn while it was all grilling. On an evening as still as the one you’ll cook this this, sit in the quiet. Watch the clouds chug past and the cottonwood spores float down. Disregard those noseeums. One bite and you’ll forget all about them. I promise.

I almost didn’t take a picture, so eager was I to gobble it up. But then I replated, and, so un-Heidi-Swanson-like, all kinds of food photog faux pas reveal themselves. Yes, I know the fish is scaly-side up. And no, I did not eat that entire serving of the fish. The photo is just a tad too dark. But hey—at least I got a shot!

  • Cut the bottom meaty part off the asparagus. Spritz lightly with olive oil, sprinkle with fresh cracked pepper.
  • Slice a fresh peach or twelve. (You’ll want more, I guarantee it. I’m imagining these with a shortbread and fresh whipped cream, in a sandwich, on skewers…)
  • Unwrap the freshest salmon you can find. Make sure he’s pink pink and not farm raised.
  • Toss the salmon, peaches and asparagus on the grill.
  • Paint your toenails. Crack a beer. Turn a cartwheel…it’s summer, and dinner is almost done!
  • Mix a few spoonfuls of Greek yogurt with a squeeze of lemon (very precise measurements here, you know). Grind in some fresh pepper. Pluck some oregano from your kitchen garden and toss it in. The more the merrier, so far as I’m concerned.
  • Watch it all till it’s grilled: I like my peaches floppy, my asparagus glen green and my salmon just before it flakes.
  • Eat outside and revel in the goodness of life.
  • A second beer is optional, but highly recommend.

Anyone who brings a case (or a keg!) of this to the wedding will be handsomely rewarded!

Note: I made brown rice to go with this, but I forgot it in the kitchen and it wasn’t even missed!

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It’s Gonna Be a Thing

We’ve had some activity up here in the Pacific Northwest: there’s been a jaunt to a foreign country (though if it’s part of NAFTA, it doesn’t really count. However, it did climax in the first stamp in my virgin passport, so hey, Mexico, I guess you’re good for something). N has acquired a job. The freaking sun is supposed to show her face this weekend and–dare I even say it–hit eighty degrees?

And there’s been the purchase of a house. She’s an oldie but goodie. She’s got a porch.

The first official Porch Beer

So last week after a few chores, N and I sipped our first Porch Beer. I can’t think of anything–let me repeat–anything that would make my summer more complete than sipping multiple Porch Beers while reading a book.

And since I only have NINE days until that blissful time, I’m querying the masses: what beer, what book? You name ’em, I’ll drink ’em and read ’em. I’m going to track the best combo. Because I really wonder, does Emma pair better with an IPA or Amber? I’m sure David Sedaris  requires a hard cider but he might be an evening porter too. One can never be sure until I hang up the hammock (that bastard of a beast I carted around Costa Rica in ’06 and in every domicile since, without space to hang it, mind you) kick my feet out and revel in the glory of what is a century old porch on a quiet, small-town street.

Here are some titles on my list:

Help a Porch Sista out–what am I missing?