Salmon

Well, it's not so much that I am in love with salmon.  But my son cooked dinner for us tonight . . . salmon and orzo.  It was to die for.

I know not to buy "farm-raised" salmon.  I pay more for wild "sockeye" salmon.  Since I don't buy it that often, it was a worthwhile expense to purchase some for the brief amount of time that my son would be home.  It was he who offered to cook it.  One of his possessions that he brought home from Vermont is a small charcoal grill, and I just happened to have some charcoal stored away in the shed.  And some lighter fluid, too.  So Sam set about to cook dinner.

The marinade he made included onions (from my garden larder) and parsley (from this year's herb garden) and lemon.  Frozen garden basil went into the orzo, along with some butter and half-and-half, which made it very creamy.  Seriously, this was a delicious meal.

But this is what I am in love with:  Since my dear friends Jim and Lois (who so often invited me for a meal in their home pub) moved away, I cannot remember the last time that someone cooked for me.  (Well, yes, I can.  It was a few days before Thanksgiving, when my friends in Florida, Joey and Trish, cooked a vegetarian Thanksgiving feast for us.  It, too, was to die for.)  So now, six months later, someone has cooked for me again.  I could get used to this.

There are some people for whom a home-cooked meal (by someone else) is an everyday thing.  I wonder if they fully appreciate that?  Living alone, I don't cook every night.  But if I lived with someone who prepared a meal every night?  OMG!  Heaven!

For now, I will appreciate the dinner that I just enjoyed.  And I will lay full claim to being in love with it, both the deliciousness of it and the effort made by a beloved son to cook for his mother.