R went up to Mammoth to ski on Thursday, and I didn't get home from a work trip till late that evening, so I decided to spend the weekend at home, just me and Olive. A colleague suggested I read My Life in France by Julia Child and Alex Prud'Homme. Tremendous book about food and travel. And of course, her tales of "cookbookery" and her successes and failures (scant as they may be) in cooking sent me straight into the kitchen. Saturday was ridiculously beautiful, sunny and warm. So I fixed myself a casual breakfast of toast, avocado and a couple basted eggs and headed out to enjoy the feast at the table I built.
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| I call this egg porn |
On Saturday evening, I made myself a simple version of shrimp scampi over whole wheat pasta. Easy and delicious.
And then on Sunday, I made a really good lamb stew. I had never thought to try my hand at stew but it sounded so filling and delicious to enjoy with Rush when he got home from the mountains. I used some homemade chicken stock and added mushrooms because it sounded good. No photos but believe when I say it was the best soup type thing I've made. I often find homeade soups lacking in flavor, kind of empty and thin when it comes to flavor. This was really good. And the sweet husb brought home a freshly baked loaf of crusty french bread from a famous bakery in Bishop, Ca. Julia would have been proud.
