Last night we celebrated our octomezoversary. I kid you not, on the walk down warm September streets to meet him at the CSA pick-up, my heart was fluttering. Or maybe that was just my new dress. Anyway, I was giddy. Over glasses of wine in cozy Grape and Grain, we had our second or maybe third menu-planning rap session for my la-ti-da birthday party (the man loves a good party-planning sesh). I presented him with a red salt pig and would not stop shouting “SALT PIG!” for the rest of the evening. (It’s fun to say. Try it.)
Then we walked home and put the salt pig (SALT PIG!) in its new home next to the stove, washed the veggies we got from the CSA, and made dinner side-by-side in his our (OUR!) tiny kitchen. Slow-cooked wild-caught salmon from a fishing cooperative that partners with our CSA, our absolute favorite salad (caprese, duh), rosé from the North Fork, and lots of unnecessary giggles and moony-eyes.
I hope we always make up awkward names for the little quasi-versaries.
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The Great American Cooking Project
Notes from others: