I rescued some vegetables from my fridge tonight. They had been relegated to the unlucky vegetable drawer, the one that doesn’t get opened. Thankfully, this mistake was fatal only for the mushrooms, and I was able to salvage the tomatoes, cucumber, a green pepper, and snow peas to make a lovely salad. I added some raspberries and cashews and doused the whole thing in balsamic vinegar – it was really quite good. The raspberries, of course, being the best part. I still have that tingly feeling on my tongue that tells me it’s rebelling from all the vinegar, but I don’t pay much attention to it. I love balsamic vinegar. It became a minor obsession last year when my roommate discovered a recipe for salmon in which it was the main ingredient. Sounds weird, I know, but oh so good. I recently even had a balsamic brownie, thanks to the creativity of chefs at Juliette et Chocolat. I live far too near that shop for my own good (or, shall we say, for my own health… good could be argued!).
I tried to think of a compelling analogy to make this discussion about food more… profound, I guess, but it didn’t work. I think my salad merits an entry on its own – it’s good to appreciate the small things. And, in case it wasn’t already apparent, I like food.