Blood at the bone

A view of my dinner

Christiana White


Photo by Kevin Doran on Unsplash

This post, most assuredly, will not be about dinner. Or, not only about dinner, let’s say. For, how can one write only about food without being stultifying. Food — the making of it, the enjoying of it — is always about so much more.

Right now, the bone of the chicken thigh I just broiled, after a quick marination in lemon, olive oil, garlic, tarragon, and thyme, is glaring red. That’s because it was raw at the bone. And that’s because I didn’t allow the thighs to come completely to room temperature before popping them in the broiler. It was still good, but not amazing. It was a bit tough — also an effect of rushing the cooking when the chicken was still too cold.

But, it’s okay because it’s the first meat-y thing I’ve eaten in… quite a while. So, it hit the spot. I was hungry.

I haven’t been starving myself exactly, but I think things (things like the pantry, and my stomach) have been leaner for the past three or four weeks.

It’s ostensibly because I’m moving and didn’t want to buy a bunch of food that would then also have to be moved.

So, I stopped buying groceries a few weeks ago. Except for tonight that is, when I broke down on the way home from dance class, suddenly remembering there is a rather good little market that prides itself on quality food not far from my house — Rocky’s Market.

So, hang that right turn I did. Travel over that bridge I did. And deposit myself in a parking slot right in front, five minutes before closing time, I did.

I perused the aisles and put a few things in my basket. That’s another thing I do to save money these days. I never get a cart. Also, why should I? I’m alone now. I no longer have hungry teens to feed, or an ex- languishing on my couch as was the norm for the past too-many years. I’m blessedly free and alone, and it’s amazing how much less food one needs when living all alone. It’s a revelation, and kind of fun.

So, I popped into my green plastic basket one trumpet mushroom, one zuchinni, one head of radicchio, one fennel bulb, one package of (three? should have been four, that’s new) chicken thighs, one little round of goat cheese, one box of seeded crackers, one bottle of California pinot noir. Oh, also a clamshell…