a fairly perfect day

   

It started out well.  A rainy morning.  A french press steeping strong brew.  A hutch of pillows, and a well worn book.  Then, a bowl of stoned peaches and nectarines blanketed in yogurt and laced with wildflower honey.  An afternoon of cleaning and packing, of cocktail sipping and treasure finding.

Once the kitchen was cleaned, we turned it a mess.  We were hungry for breakfast, and I had a few tricks up my sleeve.  Came across a magic recipe- biscuits stuffed with jam. 
Unsurprisingly called "Jammers."  Butter crumbled into flour, salt, sugar, baking sodas and powders, and lemon zest, blended with buttermilk, then turned onto the counter and stamped out monstrous biscuits.  Pinch-pot style, the biscuits were hollowed and filled with blackberry preserves and baked off until golden and crunchy and jam cascaded over the sides and sizzled on the hot pans. 

A frittata, too, was in order.  Little yellow summer squash, with necks curved like a sleeping goose, roasted, and a half-dozen eggs and a half pound of ricotta cozied in the bowl.  Fresh thyme and basil, shallots that melted with olive oil and sea salt in the skillet, and a sprinkle of hot pepper flakes and parmesan cheese came in at the last moment for a fine finish, and the cake hit the oven.

A salad of sorts was required to tie up loose ends.  These days, I like to layer my salads, color by color, and make a big show of tossing the handsome dish table-side.  This one began with spicy arugula and mustard greens.  Then thinly sliced cucumber, blanched purple and white Dragon's Tongue beans, fresh basil and dill, sweet cherry tomatoes, and toasted pinenuts, sea salt, and sweet balsalmic vinegar.  We opened the windows to catch the rain and ate in the almost dark.

When the plates were cleared, we crawled into bed to finish our bottle of wine and watch Moonstruck.  Later yet, we hollowed and carved a watermelon, then shook out our tennis shoes and made for a midnight walk.  And then, finally, the fairly perfect day ended as it had begun, back in bed, with the rain and the pillows and the book, winding down well into the early hours of the morning until I lost my grip on the day and fell soundly into sleep.