Eight Eight

November 10th, 2017 § 0 comments

88. That’s not “getting old.” It is old age. Yes, HG has arrived. Eighty Eight on November 9. Many warm greetings and wishes from family and friends. Birthday dinner at home with beloved BSK (and Toby, The wonder Dog, at HG’s feet.) Roaring flames in the fireplace. Heifetz and cellos on the Bose. Candle light. Dinner mixed French and Florentine elements. HG had a starter of buttered Santa Fe Farmers Market radishes (a Julia Child favorite) with cold Provencal rose wine. Then, on to a rib steak cooked very rare (“saignant”). Topped with grated garlic and a dash of olive oil. White cannelloni beans with sliced garlic and olive oil. (Yes, HG ate enough garlic to keep Dracula and his nefarious vampire cohorts away for years). Salad of juicy little tomatoes and chopped sweet onion. BSK cooked a New York strip to a pink juiciness. (BSK doesn’t share HG’s love for bloody meat). And, no massive amounts of garlic for BSK. Drank a BSK discovery, Cabernet Sauvignon from California’s Josh vineyards. Big, mouth filling wine. Perfect with steak and cheese (the cheese course was French soft and runny cheese that was a cross between Camembert and Pont L’Eveque). Jameson’s Irish Whiskey after dinner. Vanilla bean ice cream later in the evening. Can’t blame greedy HG for wanting many more birthdays like #88. Stay away from the window sill, Moloch Hamoves.

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