(listening to "Amor Verdadero" by the Afro-Cuban All-Stars)
Good Lord, it was hot today. I think it got up to 700 degrees or so. Lindz spent all day painting the guest room, and I spent some lovely time drilling holes in the wall and squirting poison into them. We spent our share of time relaxing, however. I made some mojitos, and we sat on the front porch while a thunderstorm passed nearby (I was hoping it would actually bring us some rain; it's been drier than usual lately). After that, I lit up the grill and prepared the repast you see above. The foreshortened perspective is a bit of an homage to the old Dutch masterpieces of those like Jan van Eyck. The zucchini symbolizes the Garden of Eden, and the snapper forms a barrier between it and the rest of the table, like the angel bearing the flaming sword. The sprig of rosemary is lost virtue.
Actually, I made all that bullshit up just now. Everything after 'foreshortened,' that is.
("Son Para Ti", by Sierra Maestra)
4 comments:
But he sets a mighty fine table, no?
And there is probably someone somewhere making buttloads of money by writing stuff like that.
Must...grill...fish...soon...
A scathing indictment of snapper!
Next time, garnish it with fig leaves. And eat it in the sweat of your brow.
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