Wednesday’s Supper: In Lieu of Visuals
Oh, I took photos. But would they really express the satisfaction, a long day of writing behind me, an evening’s worth still to go, of spending a half an hour in the kitchen with the cool crispness of bok choy and cucumbers and scallions? Would they convey the sizzle of the tofu hitting the hot oil in the wok, so loud it made me flinch even though I expected it? I’m fairly sure they wouldn’t give the remotest impression of how mud-luscious (oh e.e.!) the sensation of mashing soaked fermented black beans with your fingertips can be, or how tantalizing the pungency that rises to the nose when you do it. And as for the visceral gratification of whacking a peeled whole cucumber with the flat of a cleaver blade until it cracks into chunks, well, I think we can agree that no photograph could do that justice.
We ate a shrimp-broth based egg flower soup, black bean sauce tofu with bok choy, and smacked garlic cucumbers. No rice, we usually don’t unless company’s in the offing, the better to spare my temperamental metabolic system. Thumb-thick, winey-ripe blackberries for dessert. Salutary indeed.
And so, back to work.
