Midweek Drink and Think

Bombay Sapphire and tonic. The first of the American sun days. I can't say the first of the year because Vince and I quaffed several in Namibia and the Kgalagadi in February. Juniper berries. This was the first year I nibbled ripe blue junipers off a Christmas wreath. They're sweet. And I'm still here.

Bevan Christie woke me on a thirteen hour bus ride from Istanbul to Fethiye, to see the midnight moon shining somewhere on the way. The silhouettes of juniper bushes cast black shadows on what I took to be glittering sand in the mountains. It was snow, sparkling in the moonlight.

I am cleaning the tiny apartment and making lists. On Friday I feed Constanza, Eric, Mimi, and now Giao (pronounced Zow!), their toddling son. Estorbo can entertain him.

The menu depends on what I find. I planned backwards, though: Roux Brothers butter pastry, made into crisp hearts, with rhubarb compote and cream. If no rhubarb I'll cheat and use strawberries. Slow-cooked chicken with lots of fennel, a la Patricia Wells' Chicken "Bouillabaisse" and Richard Olney's Chicken with Fennel...the former first eaten in Molly Ringwald's East Village kitchen, with quantities of wine, toasted sourdough and rouille, and utterly delicious. But to start: I had wanted artichokes, cold, with mustard-spiked mayonnaise, but the ones I saw today were Not Right. So some foraging tomorrow and at the Union Square Farmers' Market on Friday. If I find ramps they'll join the fennel. We'll see. Maybe chilled Something soup. Hm...or warm: Garlic?

I have an interview at the BBG late on Friday, complicating dinner preparations. Constanza will let herself in here with the spare key she still has. More about the interview later. Depending on how it goes!

I'm hungry. I must eat.