Today was a fine food day. A friend and I were going to lunch, wanted some place casual, debated barbecue vs. Swiss Pastry and ended up going to Swiss Pastry, where I had my usual bratwurst, potato salad, and kraut. On the way home, we went through the drive-through at Railhead and I brought home bbq for supper. So good!
Jordan and I had our occasional food talk tonight and settled several thorny issues: what I will fix for a friend who had recent surgery, what we’ll have Sunday night if indeed we have Sunday night supper (may be a version of what I fix for the friend), what we’ll offer Monday when Elizabeth comes to visit—she wants to see a couple of the neighbors, so we’ll invite them for happy hour and then fix sloppy Joe for supper.
Elizabeth is a special friend. More years ago than I care to count—twenty-five, maybe? —she was a work-study student in my office. We clicked and remained friends after she finished her schooling. I saw her through a broken romance, several not-quite-right jobs, and a happy marriage that eventually went sour. After her divorce, she lived in my garage apartment for a year, fixed it up so it was quite cozy. And we had a wonderful year of parties and wine on the deck late at night and long talks about the meaning of life.
She has moved on to a new career and a new partner, happily settled with Brian in the outskirts of Philadelphia where she is a yoga and wellness instructor. But her family and her heart remain in Texas, and she comes back often, combining visits with teaching opportunities. We’re always happy when she fits in time for a visit here, and I think she feels it is a sort of homecoming. For Mother’s Day, she sent me a wonderful card that essentially said she knew I wasn’t her mother but without me she wouldn’t be a functioning human being. I hold that thought close to my heart—I care about her and am so glad I could be there when she needed someone.
So that was a food thing—how to handle Monday night. We’ll fix appetizers for a happy hour with the few neighbors she has asked to see and then sloppy Joe for dinner. It’s heavy for summer, but stretches and everyone likes it. Jordan will make a big salad.
So we settled all our menu things, I upgraded the grocery list and printed off the sloppy Joe recipe—mine uses red wine and is like no other, but that’s another story. Somehow, I saved the wrong file, the recipe instead of the grocery list, which I wiped out. So now I’m trying frantically to reconstruct it. I may not get another shot at groceries for a week and a half, so I’ve got to get it right.Darn.
A saving grace for my goof: I got not one but two food magazines in the mail today-Bon Appetit and Southern Living. Always a good day when I have recipes to prowl through.