It rolls like marbles.

Truffle honey and basil butter. Truffle honey and basil butter. Isn’t that a fantastic combination of words? I want to say them or weirdly, own them. They sound classy and creative. Come to think of it, they offer the same feel to a dinner party.

Last week, John and I entertained twice. We’re usually twice a month-ers. If that. But, John’s been traveling, which caused us to cram. The first one had the gall to fall on the premiere of Top Chef Season 6. My neighbor Danette and I get together for each highly anticipated episode: screaming our disgust or delight at the screen, picking our favorites and not-so favorites, celebrating each culinary masterpiece and absorbing the pain when our chefs are asked to “pack their knives and go.” I was miffed I was missing it. With a slight chip on my shoulder, I opened the door to Mike, John’s new work friend. But, Mike switched it up on me a bit. Because Mike… came with a gift. A real gift. Not the nearly obligatory, although always appreciated, bottle of wine, but a little black bag with white tissue sticking out like troll’s hair. I not only love me some gifts, but Mike brought us a shiny bottle of something I had never heard of… Truffle Honey. Truffle Honey. It rolls like marbles.

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Raining gratitude.

People are really nice. I can’t help but notice lately. I tend to be a quality, not quantity person when it comes to people. I have an introverted side, and my introvert usually chooses to reconnect with the familiar before engaging a small crowd, but a big crowd is nice because somehow it becomes one-on-one again. I once read an interview of Elizabeth Gilbert, author of Eat, Pray, Love, where she mentioned a self-realization that she functions better with less on her schedule. Similarly, I like to travel, visit friends, go to the movies and a party, but I prefer a sample of each with lots of meandering Farmers’ Market visits, in between. Variety stimulates me or simple pleasures stimulate me. Too much of the same high energy, bores me a bit. Work hard and then take a great trip with John. Kinda like friends, I’m easily happy with one thing at a time. John likes it when I’m spontaneous. And day-to-day, I’m really not all that crazy spontaneous. I hear his kind voice, and it sounds a little exciting to think of future unexpected spontaneity. A spur-of-the-moment something every now and again. Variety. Spiked into life like lingerie.

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Loyal for a lifetime.

My relationship with these salmon cakes took a good bit of courting. Salmon doesn’t jump right into just any circular relationship. Not like ground beef, who shows up to every backyard bbq, tailgate and lonely weeknight pan-fry. No… You have to bat your eyes at salmon. The salmon cake requires the right balance of moisture and breading to strut it’s radiant beauty. But bored with beef, I gave salmon a call.

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