Thursday, October 22, 2009

Someone's in the Kitchen...

I said I'd write about Bruce Cockburn, and I will, but first I have to tell you about my kitchen time with Abby and the Sunday afternoon we made Julia Child's boeuf bourguignon. Abby has such a sense of humor.

We went to see the film "Julie and Julia" one rainy afternoon with her friend Pam. Pam also has a terrific sense of humor. To illustrate, they walk together in the morning, year 'round, in Maine, IN THE DARK. Did I mention this was in the morning, even in the winter? She asked me if I'd like to join them. She cracks me up. Yes, I admire their personal discipline. From a safe distance. In my bed.

Anyway, we loved the movie and came away with this brilliant idea to create boeuf bourguignon.

We drove down to Portland the day before and picked up some key ingredients at Whole Foods. Chiefly, beef and burgundy. Abby's job, which she did very well, was to get us organized. My job was to ask stupid questions, which I also did very well. On the big day we spent valuable time attempting to say our favorite Julia lines with the right inflection and tone. I thought Abby did pretty well with them. I sounded like Dan Akroyd on SNL. Mu came in and tried to teach us the proper pronunciation of boeuf bourguignon, finally declaring, "You girls better just say beef burgundy." Let's just say, he ate his words.

Now, this involves a fair amount of prep time, which was perfect, because we needed a fair amount of prep time. We diced, we sliced and we sauteed. We were a well-oiled machine. I think it was the Herding Cats vineyard which supplied the oil. I spent an inordinate amount of time reading and re-reading the steps, with the words,"Must not fail," sliding through my brain. Besides the beef and burgundy it involved some veggies, a lot of knives, and a few cutting boards. I felt like Lucy with the now proverbial vega-matic.

Finally, all the ingredients made it into the pot. Then we waited. And I'm pretty sure we laughed. Because that's what we do. We briefly threatened to do our own reality show, "Someone's In the Kitchen With Abby and T", then thought better of it. The afternoon slipped by in Happyville.

Just before 8:00 we set the table, lit the candles, and poured the wine. Murad came in to join us, fresh from Sunday football, and we sat down to dinner. We made a toast to our Friendship, savored that much-anticipated first bite, discussed it's nuances, declared it a success.

Much sustained mmmmm-ing followed.

And I will get around to writing about Bruce. I'm savoring that, too.

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