There must be Sense Appeal...

After a long day's work (albeit pleasant work, cooking with preschool children who are just learning where their food comes from), I came home with very little appetite, to face my checkered tablecloth and some dishes that I only trusted would be delicious, from memory.   The first dish, the protein for the night, was unfortunately reminiscent of some random shortcomings that one can experience with men.  Of course, it truly isn't the size that counts.  Frankly, sometimes the larger the size the less euphoric sensation one feels short of pain- not something I engender to experience often when it comes to sexual encounters of the love kind. 

Anyhow, digression...   yes, laid out before me, in their pink pallor and severed heads, lay the most funny looking sausages I'd ever seen.   The cook for the night, my beloved mother who's helping me and my kids transition into a new life in our old country, shouted that these were Barese sausages  (Barese being from Bari, in the Southern Italian region of Puglia).   They were made of chicken.   With my accompanying glasses of Cote du Rhone, I engendered a taste, as I am a brave eater of the indeterminate kind.      I ate them alongside some steamed green beans sauteed in olive oil and raw garlic.  And this led me to my second culinary thought digression for the night...  I harkened back to the first love encounter I'd had since my divorce- a very short, yet intensely satisfying rendez-vous with a beautiful man from Napoli less than a year ago.   He was the first man I had dated directly from the old country, be it before or since my divorce.   Anyhow, on our first date, he had cooked an elaborate meal for me.  It began with homemade pasta and shrimp in a zucchini pesto, followed by roasted Sole, bruschetta, steamed crab, and steamed green beans.    Our first debate occured around the green beans.  He asked me if I marinated them in lemon juice or vinegar, and I said in resolute terms, absolutely in lemon juice.   He had been hoping I'd be the one ally that would align with his preference for vinegar, because apparently all the culinary friends he had asked also favored lemon juice. 

For anyone taking note, a fabulously cooked homemade meal is a sure way to afflict this woman's heart for a good while.    And on another note, tonight's green beans reinforced once again my preference for good ole cold pressed or extra virgin olive oil, slivered garlic, salt, and fresh lemon juice, to adorn perfectly steamed, seasonal green beans- I have to claim, one of my favorite vegetables/legumes of all time.