A week ends, a season begins

There's something really special about the first time you eat something from your garden in the spring. That's what I experienced today. Sure, I had eaten a few of last year's carrots, plucked after overwintering--but that doesn't count. And sure, I'd had some of our asparagus--but the asparagus bed came with the house; it's not as though I had anything to do with growing it. And yes, I've been cutting sorrel all winter--but...well, I've been doing it all winter.

So maybe this isn't the first produce from the garden. It just feels like it.

Anyhow, the arugula needed thinning, and I came away with two heaping cups of baby leaves. I washed them three times to get the sand and mud off, then tossed them with sopressata, hard-boiled eggs, a few leaves of Boston lettuce, olive oil, red wine vinegar, salt, and pepper, and it was about as close to perfect as a salad can get.

This was the starter for a meal of foil-baked river trout in white wine, paired with steamed broccoli. I love trout. It seems to be one of the few fresh fish that live up to the word "fresh" around here, and quite honestly, I like it even better than salmon (which it resembles for reasons I've never been able to figure out).

A little part of me wants to drive into town and celebrate the ending of the work week. This has been a hell of a week, and I'm sleep deprived and ready to taste a little freedom. But I am going to stay in and watch TV because tomorrow has the promise of greatness. I'm getting my hair done (after a couple weeks of looking like a fashion "don't"--I swear my roots must be two inches long) and going shopping at Manning Bros. Restaurant Supply (WOOOOOO! HOG WILD!), then joining the s.o. and his dad for a Braves game at Turner Field...with enviably good seats right behind the Braves' dugout. Gloat gloat gloat.

Yes, I like the look of Saturday.