Under the Table

I’ve spent the last 20 minutes trying to meditate and enjoy a glass of wine at the same time. I don’t know that the two activities really go together, but I feel relaxed – and that was my goal.

Things have been pretty crazy lately.

Still, conversations with friends and family always turn to, “So … any boys?” or “What’s going on with the dating?” There have been some random connections recently, but very little of any significance. (Although there IS a certain someone who has been holding a pair of my earrings hostage…)

I’ve got a lot going on – with family, work, potential jobs and finding a new roommate. For once, it’s nice to have things be All Quiet on the Man Front.

(I know there are probably at least a few of you who are curious about my wine of choice for mediation. It’s a nondescript white Côtes du Rhône, and I don’t really recommend it. But I do recommend the 2009 Gassier Sables d’Azur Rosé from Côtes de Provence, if you can get your hands on it. Yum.)

Me: “I think eating and drinking with your friends is one of the best things in life.”

Adriel: “Absolutely. Especially when there’s garlic involved.”

I endured some ridicule after my last post.

One of the cooks I work with thought it was pretty funny that I was giving people advice on how to make salmon. If Manny’s my audience, then I certainly don’t have any business writing about cooking.

So who is my audience? What do you like to read about here?

Once upon a time, I lived in France.

It seems a crazy story now that, often, the highlight of my day is getting an iced latte before work. But it really did happen, and it changed the way I live.

I walked everywhere, along cobblestone streets that were menacing to the ankles but lined with beautiful old buildings and colorful tulips. I spent weekend mornings in the dining room of résidence St. Louis (a.k.a., the house on Rue Princesse ) writing in thin, French notebooks. And, for the first time in my adult life, I cooked.

I knew before I even left the States that I’d have to give up my vegetarian diet, which was really a cheese-and-bread diet. My step-mom, Stacey, sent me to France with a simple method for cooking salmon. I bought frozen salmon fillets at Carrefour every other week and cooked them with a little olive oil and some dried tarragon. The result had varying degrees of success … sometimes they were delicious, sometimes they were dry and crusty.

Of course it was the latter result when I had my friend Amy over for dinner one night. She was a good sport about it, but we ended up covering the cooked fillets in lemon juice and feta cheese so they’d be a bit more palatable. (It wasn’t until last year that I learned, from Chef Jason Stoneburner, that cheese and fish are a sacrilegious combination.)

Since then, I’ve been afraid to prepare salmon for anyone other than myself. And since I don’t do steak (well, I don’t cook it…) I’ve lacked a really wonderful, special dish that I can make when I want to impress someone.

But when I found myself hungry, coho fillet in hand, I decided to try something new. My lovely aunt has loaned me her copy of Mark Bittman’s How to Cook Everything, so I flipped through it until I found a recipe that seemed doable and delicious.

The result was a piece of salmon that was perfect: slippery and soft, with an amazing, light flavor from little more than onions and thyme. I served it (to myself) with mixed greens dressed in aioli vinaigrette.

This is a dish that I will happily, proudly prepare for a guest in the future. Lucky is the man who tastes this …

Bittman’s Salmon Roasted with Herbs, with some modifications

one fresh salmon fillet, skin on, pin-bones removed

(Tweezers are great for removing the pin bones. It’s a nifty little trick I learned from Dave, the sous chef at re:public.)

two tablespoons olive oil

three tablespoons chopped yellow onion

(original recipe calls for  two tablespoons minced shallots, but I had no shallots and I’m not great at mincing)

three sprigs of fresh thyme, leaves removed from stems

Preheat oven to 475°F. Heat 2 tablespoons olive oil in a roasting pan (I did it, as MB suggests in the oven. Can also be done on the stove.) Place the salmon in the oil, flesh side down, with thyme and onion. Return the pan to the oven, and roast about 5 minutes, then turn and roast 5 to 7 minutes longer, until the salmon is done (I had to cut the fillet a bit to figure this out.) Sprinkle with salt and pepper, garnish and serve immediately.

Something important I’ve learned from Bittman: Fish retains enough heat to continue cooking after it has been removed from the heat source, so stop cooking just before the salmon reaches the point you’d consider it done. Raw salmon is a bit translucent, so I like to cook it until just the very center retains that shiny red. A few minutes out of the oven, and then it’s perfect!

I had intended to make blueberry scones today.

Instead, I slept in someone else’s bed. When I got home around 8:30 a.m., I planned to make coffee and finish Pride and Prejudice. But that didn’t happen … I just went back to sleep.

So, good morning. I’m having breakfast.

Doesn’t it look lovely? A ricotta tart from the Ballard Market with fresh blueberries from Top Banana and hot Victrola coffee that I even made myself!

They tell me Sundays are for Lovers. (I think it’s true – I wish I had a t-shirt that said so.) But this Sunday I am all by myself.

I’m sorry I haven’t been around lately. Writing has felt like a bit of a chore, but instead of taking an actual break, I just felt guilty for not doing it. Bad move on my part.

There’s much to write about: Jane Austen, the sexiness of manners, a successful afternoon of roasting salmon with olive oil and fresh thyme.

I’m going to go write. You go enjoy your Sunday (with or without a lover.) We’ll rendezvous back here on Wednesday.

Summer is the best time for dating in Seattle. The perfect summer date includes cocktails, dinner and high heels. (But not so high as to prevent a leisurely walk after dinner … this is key.) Definitely haven’t had one of those in a while. Indeed, my love life has been in a tumult lately.

I’ve been having a rough season. Not a bad season, per se, but there have been a lot of ups and downs. As pitcher, I’ve walked a few batters and I’ve struck out a few times, myself. (A break-up. A series of missed connections with a cool guy.) There have been some pesky refs and fly balls that caught me off guard. (Trying to navigate the rules and regulations of dating. An unexpected visit from an old flame.)

These days, I’m playing for pleasure, with no designs on settling. I’m not just after a boyfriend, or the elusive “serious, long-term relationship.” I’m looking for someone amazing, who thinks I’m amazing, too. (In short, an All-Star.) Until I find that, I’m not signing with anyone.

I’ve got a little more than two months until the end of dating season in Seattle (assuming all the eligible young men crawl back into their caves in early October, as seemed to happen last year.)  There’s nothing to do but have fun.

I guess that means margaritas, late-night dinners  and high-heeled sandals. After all, it’s summer!

If you like to read about love & romance as much I like to write about it, you should check out The New York Times’ Modern Love articles. But also keep reading my blog. The Times has a lot of smart people, but I don’t think any of them could tell you how to wine and dine your way through the summer.

And that’s exactly what I intend to do.

Walking around downtown Seattle – specifically, Pioneer Square – with a red helium balloon attached to your handbag is a fun thing to do. I kept forgetting the balloon (a present from my friend Tina) was there so when people asked me about it, I just made something up.

When I passed Seattle’s Union Gospel Mission, a tall man with dreadlocks called after me.

“Hey, Miss! What’s that balloon for?”

I shrugged. “Happy thoughts?”

“I’m having happy thoughts, seeing that smile,” he said to me.

And then I had happy thoughts, too.

I have this theory that the World Cup promotes day drinking. Suddenly people in Seattle are lining up outside of pubs early in the morning and in the door with a beer in hand, often before 8 a.m. Yeeesh.

Nevertheless, it sounded like a fascinating ritual, so when my friend invited me to join her at the Market Arms for the Brazil-Chile game Monday morning (at a far more reasonable call time of 11:30), I seized the opportunity. And a cup of coffee. I may be open to the idea of day drinking, but I still have my priorities straight.

Nevertheless, I had a Black Velvet in front of me well before noon …

…that’s half Strongbow Cider, half Guinness, all delicious.

The good news is, I didn’t get drunk. I had two drinks (and an egg sandwich) and then after several hours, more coffee, lots of water and a chicken salad sandwich I went to work sober as a Mormon.

My new opinion on day drinking? No harm, no red card.

(We’ll see how I fare Friday morning when Brazil faces the Netherlands … at 7 a.m. )

Find a date who will take me here. Seriously, I’m stoked.