Well, this is it: the last supper. Below is a picture of us eating our last steak dinner, maybe ever. I cooked it on the grill even though it’s rainy and cold here in Portland. We’re pairing it with a big Cabernet from Dry Creek in Sonoma County. I know from lots of experience that they’ll pair nicely (this has been my traditional birthday dinner for a few years now). So far, I have yet to figure out what pairs with tempeh.
I’m pretty sure I’ll be able to handle this life change. I won’t have any trouble forgetting the perfectly seared steak I had in Omaha during that awkward business dinner with my boss. Or the one I had in New Orleans with Creole spices and a dollop of blue cheeses and balsamic reduction. Or the steak and Lobster tail I had smothered in garlic butter to celebrate my high school graduation in Maine. Or the grilled Carne Asada I had with my graduate school classmate when I visited his family in L.A.
Sigh…
Ainsley won’t have any trouble with it. She’s never liked meat. Lucky.
I keep trying to remind myself of what’s at stake, but, well, it just reminds me of steak.