Sometimes I think I know all there is to know about this guy.
(Eli, not the baby.) (The baby is Mia, and I definitely don't know all there is to know about her.)
But then last fall, Eli ran a half-marathon up in Newburyport and got a yo-yo at the finish line, and the next thing I know, he's shooting the moon in our living room. I married a man who can yo-yo. I had no idea.
Nor did I have any idea that this man, armed with a grill and the mantra "low and slow," can cook thirteen chops of lamb to rosy, tender perfection. This I discovered a couple of weeks ago, when we joined our friend Molly for the weekend in Maine.
Molly's parents have a house up there right on the Piscataqua River, and from the backyard you can see boats and docks and a shed with the face of an owl.
This is what the kitchen counter looked like a few minutes after we arrived. Between the two loaves of bread is a package of Jan's Farmhouse Crisps. They're our Official Summer Cracker of 2012, and early polls predict an uncontested bid for the fall title as well. Our Official Summer Cheese, in case you're wondering, is Twig Farm Washed Rind. We brought that up with us, too. Also: a jar of granola, a loaf of corn bread, a long crackly "flute" from Hi-Rise bakery (their version of pain à l'ancienne), a jar of their apricot preserves, some pine nuts and Urfa pepper for a recipe we'd make one night, and a bunch of tomatoes.
Molly and I circled the market the first morning we were there. A band was playing, and these two sat and listened for a long time.
Have I ever told you that I'm not so into doughnuts? I'm not so into doughnuts.
Except for cider doughnuts, which I love.
Happy Monday. See you soon.