As the sun dips below the canyon here tonight, we're serenaded by the grating drone of a neighbor's nonstop shop-vac. I look out through our postcard of a window wall and try to memorize its heartstopping beauty, however it may prove to be in vain. This makes me rueful, so I look away and pour a glass of Willamette Valley Pinot Noir, hoping it coagulates 'good luck' for us from a friendly distance. Somewhat sentimental after more than a few tense-filled past days, I am compelled to sit and soak in the view, if only in search of positivity. To wit:
I am always thankful for De Cecco gnocchi on a night such as this, cause it makes a quick pesto dinner that much easier.
I know it's the quiche Lorraine of the late last century, but when tomatoes are as good as this, I don't give a fig for trendiness. Topped with basil, mozzerella and some spices before annointing with olive oil...this leaves little room for error. And we need to lubricate our current worries and concerns with good oil and garlic.
The moral here is as usual: oh well, there is always dinner to look forward to...