Monday afternoon, 4:25, John Coltrane on Pandora radio, icy glass of Walla Walla rose wine at my elbow, (can’t make my computer put an accent mark on the e in rose) 86 degrees outside and Drew walking around the house trilling on an imaginary trumpet. Perfection. Or at least darn close.
The only thing that would make it anymore perfect, this grilled skirt steak with Chimichurri plunked down in front of me. The whole thing. Every glorious, juicy, crusty bit. Slathered in garlicky, fragrant Argentinian goodness. Sigh. Not going to happen today.
Tooth throbbing from morning session at the dentist. He and I are becoming BFF’s. His good news for the day? All of my 500 silver filled cavities need replacing. Aging is not for sissies. Realize sissies is a word old people use.
Plan for tomorrow? Make this again and devour it. With a martini, or two.
Toss some tomatoes in olive oil, garlic, sea salt and thyme in a baking dish. Roast the heck out of it, serve it along side my steak and raise my glass to my new BFF.
Recipe found over at the Issaquah Press.