Friday, August 15, 2008

Don't Rain on My Grill


All ready for a grilling extravaganza and here comes the bloody rain again. We have the cedar planks soaking, new barbeque tools, a slab of salmon from the ocean, not the farm, some squash and zucchini, everything for the grill. The salmon will receive a fab mint/mustard sauce that's to die for. Now rain, rain, go away.

I forgot to take a photo of last night's tomato bread salad; remembered when the bowl was, like, empty. It was all red, white and green just like the flag of Italy. And good! The tomatoes were like the platonic form of tomato--everything a tomato should be. Big, ripe, sharp and juicy. My god the juice! This was a winner.

Tuesday evening we motored down to Woods Hole to meet friends for dinner. Tried a fish place under new management. The Fishmonger. Was it ever good. Did I say good? It was superb. The Atlantic salmon was so toothsome that I just had to have some more tonight. The people who had scallops loved them, and the sea bass eaters were more than satisfied. So hie yourself over to the Fishmonger right in the port area in Woods Hole and have a fantastic feast before the rest of the world discovers it and the line it out the door.

Wine was good, too. Grilled asparagus exceptional. Done just right. How many times does THAT happen? I had a couscous salad as a side, and it tasted to bright and right, somehow, with the salmon.

I am a salmon snob, which is to say I turn up my nose at farmed, which has a weird color, a bizarre taste, and a suspcious texture. Sorry, the girl can't help it.

So here's to all the wild fish in the ocean and may they live a joyous life until the fisherman's hook or seine lands them. Fishy, fishy in the sea. . . . Does anyone remember how this goes?

Grapeshot

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