Yes, it is cold today. The chill north wind is blowing across the Australian alps and you can practically smell the snow. But today is the day: the winter solstice. For some reason it varies between 20-22 June and this year it is today. Roll on summer. It's all downhill from here.
Last night, dinner was simple and you'ce probably heard it all before. What came after was less common.
Salmon with linguine.
Linguine in the pot. A large square salmon fillet cubed into bite-size pieces and poached gently in a little white wine and a squeeze of orange juice. Just until done. Then the fluid reduced with the addition of a little cream, perhaps a tablespoonful, and poured over the salmon cubes on the linguine. Simple. Nothing else needed. Maybe a few springs of parsley, just for decoration.
Then came the rumble. It was only a tremor, of course. The whole plate shakes, like the skin of a drum. They only break at the edge, and I don't think we're on an edge. Of course, shaking can damage as well.
Tracy had retired early and reported that she had thought possums were jumping on the roof and sliding down the awnings. Yes, possums can be loud. I had a possum in the ceiling once, years ago. It made a hole. Then it started bringing in wood and leaves and mud from outside to patch the hole. Every day I had to clean the mess from the floor and eventually I had to put in place a dropsheet until the roof hole could be repaired by the landlord. The possum would have kept filling the hole until the room was full.
But last night, it wasn't possums. I didn't hear anything or feel anything. Some degree of separation from the event might have been in place, as I was on my second glass of Blackstrap McLaren Vale Shiraz (named after the molasses it metaphorically resembles).
Last night, dinner was simple and you'ce probably heard it all before. What came after was less common.
Salmon with linguine.
Linguine in the pot. A large square salmon fillet cubed into bite-size pieces and poached gently in a little white wine and a squeeze of orange juice. Just until done. Then the fluid reduced with the addition of a little cream, perhaps a tablespoonful, and poured over the salmon cubes on the linguine. Simple. Nothing else needed. Maybe a few springs of parsley, just for decoration.
Then came the rumble. It was only a tremor, of course. The whole plate shakes, like the skin of a drum. They only break at the edge, and I don't think we're on an edge. Of course, shaking can damage as well.
Tracy had retired early and reported that she had thought possums were jumping on the roof and sliding down the awnings. Yes, possums can be loud. I had a possum in the ceiling once, years ago. It made a hole. Then it started bringing in wood and leaves and mud from outside to patch the hole. Every day I had to clean the mess from the floor and eventually I had to put in place a dropsheet until the roof hole could be repaired by the landlord. The possum would have kept filling the hole until the room was full.
But last night, it wasn't possums. I didn't hear anything or feel anything. Some degree of separation from the event might have been in place, as I was on my second glass of Blackstrap McLaren Vale Shiraz (named after the molasses it metaphorically resembles).
I was sitting at the bar in Movida Aqui and my Martini danced a bit. Though it was the top-shelf Gin, turned out to be an earthquake.
ReplyDeleteThat's a very good gin story, anon. Like the gimlet scene in The Long Goodbye.
ReplyDelete