Got Anchovies?
Don’t know whether it is because it’s tax season or hormones but I’ve been in the woe is me mode all week. It sucks. The cherry trees are about to burst and so am I. There is nothing quite as spectacular as spring in Sonoma County and this year because of all the rains the blossoms are particularly glorious, or as my son said taking his ipod out of his ear, “That tree is angelic mom”. To true, solid white, thick, happy flowering plums reaching out in blissful celebration. Believe me I adore how the gods delight us in spring, so what is wrong with me? Perhaps I am down, I decided because I haven’t necessarily had the time to enjoy the jovial botanicals, so I did what any hard-working single mom would do—I played hooky and took myself to lunch at one of my favorite west county digs. There was a table waiting just for me outside, I sat down, breathed in the splendor of spring, ordered up a glass of Thumprint pinot with an extra garlicky Cesar salad.
“By-the-way, I asked my waiter, do you have any anchovies?” “No, I don’t think so,” was his reply. But lucky for me, one of the chefs came out of the kitchen for a moment (must have been to drink in some spring) and my waiter asked him if they had any anchovies in the kitchen. “Yes”, beamed the chef (he recognized an anchovy fan). When the Cesar arrived it was topped off with a heaping pile of anchovies, which I promptly popped a few into my mouth, and then I picked up the large leafs of romaine with my fingers, sipped my wine and completely enjoyed myself.
As I was leaving, life felt better. No former husband to complain about me eating garlic or anchovies that is one plus. Beauty abounds us here in wine country, which is another plus and on it went-until all the plusses elevated my spirits up to a flowering plum kind of celebration.
As I walked to my car three gorgeous men were walking directly into my path. Hard not to notice one was a Clint Eastwood rugged-type with curly, dark hair. And they stopped to ask me, if my little restaurant was a good one. “Very good,” I replied—“this is Sonoma County, most of these restaurants are fabulous with sustainable local produce on their menus and killer boutique wines by the glass.”
To which Clint Eastwood smiled big and said, “Is that what I am smelling?” “I smell something delicious.” Ears beginning to burn, I threw my hand across my mouth and noted, “That would be me, I just ate a ton of anchovies on top of an extra garlicky Cesar salad.”
“Would you like to join us for a glass of wine?” he asked.
Hmmm-a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do. Who knew a few seemingly inconsequential anchovies could revive the promise of spring . . . . .
Stay true,
M