What to eat for dinner is always a problem for anyone who believes with all the fiber of his being that a meal is something you make and not something you buy. If it were otherwise, then I would like to imagine that the daily problem would be a lot simpler. Relieved of such a burden he could just jump in the car and drive to someplace that would cook it for him, pay his money, and be done with it. But for a he like me, that is almost never an option. And tonight was no exception.
Tonight I had to eat alone. My kids have been away at camp for over a week and my wife is in New York on business and to my chagrin, having dinner with her business associates at Del Posto ($%#@&!?) To make things a bit more challenging, the larder is run down from having half of the family away for over a week. It would have been great if I could just climb into the car and go somewhere and scarf a meal. But I'm a cook and cooks don't do that. So the "net net" is that I had to scrap a bit to put something together for myself to eat that satisfied this cook's dictum I live under that compels me to cook my own food all the time. After probing around a while in the fridge and freezer, I came up with this: a frittata of zucchini, mozzarella, basil and prosciutto.
I made the frittata with 3 CSA eggs, some paysanne cut and sauteed zucchini, a chiffonade of basil from the garden with a "whiff of garlic", and some mozzarella and prosciutto di Parma. You see it here after it has been started in olive oil on the stove top and just retrieved from the broiler.
I ate it with some bread I made myself ( a sough dough made with rye and high gluten flour, wheat berries and flax seeds and some other stuff), a drizzle of some Denominazione di Protetta extra virgin olive oil (Tandem brand) , a half bottle of Les Piliers Sauvignon (2006) and some really good butter laced with big crystals of sea salt (Sevre& Belle La Baratte des Gourmets) all of it served on top of Sunday's NY Times. It was all very good and now I don't care much about no dictum. Actually, I'm happy to be tasked by it.
I don't think tomorrow's dinner is going to be this good. I'm taking delivery of 20 tons of stone and a 4 ton loader and will be spending the day dumping rocks into a big hole. So maybe, just maybe, I'll be ordering a pizza. Pity me.