It’s a foggy Monday morning and I ought to be making sure the house presents a reasonably clean face for Wednesday and Saturday’s dinner guests, not to mention the major party a week from Wednesday. But of all uninspiring things, surely the job of house cleaning must top the list? Won’t our food and conversation scintillate so brilliantly that no one will worry about the dust bunnies? We might strike it lucky and they’ll think we have tiny pets. I’d far rather consider the delights of food.
Oven poached salmon, I think with a variety of sauces. A watermelon and blueberry salad, the pieces of watermelon cut into acute triangles, the raspberry chili dressing sharp enough to bite and set off the crisp sweet of the watermelon. Fresh bread of course. A nice artisan type loaf, all ragged and with big yeasty holes inside. Zucchini cut from the garden in the morning, sautéed simply with garlic and a splash of lemon juice, black pepper scattered on. Maybe a grain salad with lentils and bulgur? Anyone want to come to dinner yet? And what about dessert? I’ve been thinking a very simple cake slathered with fresh strawberries and a white chocolate whipped cream topping. Or should I let our first Golden Dorset apples play into an apple cake with caramel? But what about chocolate? Fudgy dense chocolate to keep the conversation zinging.
See what I mean? Food is fun to imagine about, but who ever had fantasies about how clean he or she could polish the tiles on the fireplace? Give me that man who is not cleaning’s slave and I shall … oh, I guess I already wear that man in my heart’s core. A good husband is that man who brings home diverse guests and only notices the dust bunnies to pet them.
