A letter came in from the Senior Editor of the publisher of my last two books. I was surprised to read that she was interested in seeing another title from me. It so happens that I do have an idea. It's about being a father, and the less than perfect meshing of that role with being a professional gourmet.
Sometimes that was fun, and many recipes and dining strategies have come of it. I have a lot of stories to tell. And problems to moan about. The main one: how can one be a traditional father, presiding over dinner in the home as I know I should, when my job makes me dine out every night, and not come home until ten or eleven, after the kids have gone to bed? It sounds like a recipe for disaster. In fact, our family has always been a source of joy for all concerned.
Mary Ann doesn't think that such a book would be politically feasible. She doesn't think the editors in New York will want anything to do with it. Well, we'll see about that.
Mary Leigh has been in a state of mild melancholy. But her boyfriend–gone for two weeks--gets back here tonight. Meanwhile, ML kept herself busy painting the signs and building the tables for her gallery/studio in Covington. This looks like it may actually turn out to be something.
The Marys and I had an early dinner at Zea. I wanted to have the seared salmon I loved last time. The sauce is way above chain restaurant levels, being a beurre blanc with an admixture of miso. Just thick enough. The fish was perfect again.
Also good, even though it probably comes in a plastic pouch, ready to go: tomato basil soup. That's no big deal, but I like this one better than most. Herbal, chunky, and an odd color. I figured out the secret of making this especially fine: tell them not to top it with the usual heaping tablespoon of parmesan cheese. It's only there for the people who believe that anything gets better with the addition of cheese. I don't.
Mary Leigh broke away from her usual salad and had the rotisserie beef sirloin. It was overcooked for me, but I thought it was good anyway. Better than what ML thought. But whe has other things on her mind.
