
As Natasha would be quick to tell you, I am not the food shopper in the family. Don't get me wrong, I love grocery stores, specialty shops, farmer's markets and those unattended roadside stands where you are trusted to drop your money in a can in exchange for just picked fruits and vegetables. However, I don't do the purchasing at places like our local gourmet hot spot Foragers, nor do I take the F train to Whole Paycheck Foods in Manhattan or the Water Taxi to the Red Hook Fairway. It has even been said I don't know how to place an order on Fresh Direct (I do, but that is just between you and me). In fact, I seldom get my butt over to DUMBO's version of the local deli, Bridge Fresh, to pick up the occasional avocado, arugula or carton of milk.
So, with Natasha on the last day of her two week blitz through England and France, and no real shopping since her departure, I was forced to do what I do best. I began to raid the cupboards, pantry, refrigerator and garden to flush out hidden or forgotten ingredients to create a meal to overcome a situation that Natasha would claim dire. After all, it is not about survival, it's about satisfying my hunger, taste buds and ego.
However, before I move on, I must confess this task was made easier through my biannual cleaning of the refrigerator. Please note that I stayed well away from the uncharted, frosty waste land that is the freezer. This is Natasha's territory, and if I had my druthers there would be nothing in there except for her ice cream, ice trays and a bottle of Imperia vodka.
While cleaning out the refrigerator I found a number of plastic bags and containers filled with good intentions, gelatinous grey compost and various preserves and pickled items that were anything but preserved. To my surprise, I counted a total of 24 jars of jellies, jams and marmalades that were either made by Natasha or given to us by friends and family nestled throughout the various shelves and door spaces. Sadly, they have been just sitting there since our moratorium on toast and a dedicated fitness regimen at the Fitness Guru here in DUMBO. They are now however neatly aligned and within categories awaiting a time when our fitness allows us to indulge once again.
I also found and kept in the back of my mind a sleeve of polenta from our last trip to Arthur Avenue, a Vadalia onion and a can of Muir Glenn fire roasted tomatoes. So, after a Sunday morning run over the Brooklyn bridge to the Staten Island ferry terminal and back with my neighbor DK, I thought I might reward myself with a good hearty breakfast for one.
Armed with my favorite iron skillet and a Global knife, I diced and cooked myself a treat befitting a king of his domain, or at least his until the queen returns. I sautéed the onions with a bit of large leaf Greek oregano from the garden, pan browned the polenta, cooked down the tomatoes with a bit of extra freshly ground black pepper and then finished it off with a fried egg. The egg was a little "touche" for Natasha who tells me I don't really appreciate the use of eggs like she does. Topped with a bit of fresh flat leaf parsley, also from the garden, and a cup of coffee made in our moka pot, I was set for well into the day.
Now it's time to order some food on Fresh Direct. Don't tell Natasha.
