Date: September 15, 2010
Location: Plattekill, NY
1000
It has been a while since I have decided to place finger to laptop and pontificate on my blog. This may be a good thing. I am sure that if I were to express just some of the thoughts that have been rambling through my opinionated mind lately I could irritate most people I know or who accidently stumble onto my blog. Because that would accomplish little to nothing I have, wisely, kept my opinions to myself. I have, after more then a half of a century, found that opinions are valued more by the giver than by the receiver.
I will not scream at the faux national pride and respect for the people killed on September 11, 2001 as we, as a conservative, bigoted, gang of hatred filled electorate protest a community center for the families and friends of some of the people that died on that day. I will not count the number of dead, mangled American bodies that have sense been murdered by a corrupt ill formed foreign policy by both Republican and Democratic governments. I won’t even allude to the hundreds of thousands of innocent foreignnames that should be added to that list. I will not expound on the growing seeds of hatred and disgusting diatribe that is trying to pass it self off as political conversation on our news media. I will not ramble on about this because it will fix nothing and irritate many.
I will tell a tale of a much more enjoyable day. It was a day of doing things that are normal, yet memorable. It is not always the majesty of each event that makes it a moment of memory; it is sometimes the enjoyment of doing that make simple things memorable.
Our day started out doing house chores. Yes, even I had chores to do and a reason to get out of my wife’s way so she could do the brunt of the work. While she was locked away in the house cleaning everything that did not move, I was outside doing man things. After a full morning of sweat, struggle and effort we now have a clean home and a light over our patio. The rug is shampooed and our battery drawer is cleaned. I have listened to some Harp Fusion music and my wife has a sore back from moving every piece of furniture to clean under, over and around it. It was a pretty productive morning, but not one of which great memories are made.
After a long morning of stress and work we decided to go shopping. Better yet we went shopping for dinner. This may seem simple and mundane, but it does not have to be that way. I was planning on cooking some blackened catfish and we have a wonderful market with great choices just down the road. Adventure, here we come.
First we decided that a good dinner deserves a good bottle of wine. Why New York does not allow a gourmet shopping store to offer wine I do not know, but we were forced to head to our local liquor store which happens to have a very large wine selection. Shopping can be fun and enjoyable when you have choices. A bottle of white wine from Germany and a bottle of red wine from California and we are off to Adam’s Fairacre. Our wine bill was a bit higher than we are used to paying, but as my wide explained to me; “We are not going to New York City today and this is our weekend excursion.” Any excuse is a good excuse when it comes to justifying a purchase of a good wine.
Our next stop was at our new favorite store in the area. It is a farmer’s Market for the bohemian eclectic yuppies of New York. It has the expected selection of fresh veggies and the like one would expect to find in a farmer’s market, but that is only the beginning. The store goes on forever with gourmet offerings from meat to fish to spices to things I do not even understand. It is like a Trader Joe’s on gourmet steroids, just minus the cases of 2 buck Chuck. Walking in the store places you in a good mood with the stimuli of fresh veggies, fresh breads, meat counter and eclectic offering of gourmet foods. Some 60 or 70 dollars later we had the makings of some great meals and a fresh blue berry pie.
It was not a monumental day, but spending the afternoon shopping for and preparing to enjoy a great dinner is the type of experiences from which memories are made. Eating is a necessity, but dinning is an experience. Last night we dined on a great dish of blackened catfish seasoned with fresh hot peppers sautéed in olive oil and rice pilaf seasoned with sun dried tomatoes and basil. The dinner was complimented with a great bottle of German Riesling wine and of course a piece of that wonderful blue berry pie.
Our dinner was augmented by a cacophony of fresh vegetable mixed with lettuce and served, as it should be, at the end of our meal. Americans are so impatient they must have something in front of them immediately when they sit to eat. A proper meal of eloquence should be finalized with an offering of fresh garden produce. After our excursion to Adam’s Fairacre Connie created a salad for which one would yearn. It was filled with a variety of garden offerings all as fresh and tasty as if they had just been pulled from the Earth. Shopping at our new favorite farmer’s market is fun while we do it and more fun as we reap the enjoyment of our efforts.
As we left our farmer’s market with “PAPER” bags full of delicacies and fresh meats and fish Connie and I both remarked about the better mood we had leaving this store as opposed to the funk we feel as we depart the parking lot of Wally World. At the local Stop and Shop or Wal-Mart a person may purchase the needed larder for their consumption; at a store like Adam’s Fairacre Farms a couple can take a trip into memories soon to be enjoyed over a candle lit table of gourmet offerings.
Our refrigerator in now the home of a steak stuffed into a plastic bag filled with garlic salsa. This marinade enhanced pieces of beef is destined for the hot coals this evening to be served with garlic infused olive oil sautéed selection of fresh vegetables. Again we are not going to just eat dinner, we are going to dine eloquently on memories to be saved and enjoyed. We will, of course, have a lovely bottle of California Cabernet and hopefully delicious memories to store in our experience bank. Sometimes memories taste good and sometimes they feel good and then there is the time when it comes together over bottle of good wine.
Now wasn’t that more fun than my vitriolic diatribe? But I will bet you are hungry now, I know I am.
By the way, now my wife is now making home made vegetable soup with ham hocks. The smells are to die for and the aromas of which epicurean dreams are made.
|