OK, I’m still using the old camera, so the picture is not exactly flattering. The ancient beast is near-useless in subpar light, and loves the flash like Sarah Palin loves a meth-dusted mooseburger. (Or like the ancient beast loves Sarah Palin.) But the salad, the salad- my Mom used to eat like this most of the time- perfect greens tossed with a few choice proteins, or pasta tossed with a panoply of vegetables was her dinner more often than not.
Since our fall lettuces are finally getting up to speed, and I hit our weekly farmers’ market for a whole wheat baguette and some goat cheese (and a nice, juicy piece of pork- see tomorrow) it seemed logical, nay imperative, that I comprise it all into one gorgeousness of a meal that would immaculately convey the fleeting warmth of summer in such a powerful way that not only would we would feel it as we ate but also that you, gentle readers, would vicariously partake of some portion of reflected waning sunlight simply by reading and be the better for it.
Thus lettuces and herbs- positively squeaky with just-picked freshness- tossed with the nudest of vinaigrettes became the luxe featherbed for roasted potatoes with garlic and rosemary (all picked minutes before) boiled local eggs, and the aforementioned baguette and herb-rolled chèvre that I toasted up real nice. To accompany, like a retinue of lascivious yet courtly ladies sauntering down our curtsying gullets, a Jacky Blot Vouvray “Clos de la Bretonnière” that is as resplendent a courtesan as ever a peasant repast like this could imagine in its most lavish fantasies.