I've been meaning to post a recipe for a while, but I haven't actually cooked anything in a while. Packing, writing, and Chinese delivery apparently go very well together. And if Rob is busy for dinner, I usually just end up throwing a salad together or heating something up really quickly for myself and calling it a meal. So when Rob had a meeting at six last night, I figured I'd just eat leftover Chinese food or heat up some soup for dinner.

But my brother went on a deep-sea fishing trip over the weekend and came back with a load of fresh tuna, and you don't just let fresh caught wild tuna sit around in your refrigerator. Sean was supposed to come to Charlottesville with my mom yesterday and help us move furniture, but the poor guy wasn't feeling well. He made up for his absence when my mom handed me four tuna steaks in a plastic bag from his aforementioned trip.

I'm not someone who gets easily intimidated in the kitchen, so I thought it was funny that four uncomplicated pieces of meat were able to make me feel so nervous about cooking. They seemed precious to me, like a little gift--four pink jewels that my brother had labored over and caught with his own hands. They were so perfect, even in their rawest state, and I feared that I might destroy their impeccable simplicity.

I stood in the kitchen for several minutes, trying to decide how best to prepare them. The sushi-loving part of me wanted to just slice them up and eat it raw, but I finally decided on a simple sprinkle of salt and pepper, and then onto my grill pan.

I poured myself a glass of wine and ate my tuna. I was so hell-bent on enjoying it hot and fresh, as soon as it was ready, that I didn't have anything else prepared to go with it. No vegetable, no salad. Green beans are allowed to sit there in the refrigerator for another day. Just tuna and a big, chilly glass of Pinot Grigio for me. It tasted like the ocean and summertime.

I managed to save a piece for Rob, but it was a pretty close call.

"Brother", "Food", "Paleo"Megan | Freckled ItalianMay 17, 2012 Comments

Real-Time Thankfulness

This is not a scheduled post. I didn't write this last night, then go to bed embarrassingly early, and I have not already been at work for an hour. I am actually sitting here at my computer, and I am typing, and when I finish typing, I will publish this post, and then I will still be here, in my apartment, next to my computer.

It might not seem like much, but after nine months of being at work before the sun comes up, it feels unreal to be spending a morning at home. Last night, I ground some coffee beans and set up my French Press for cold-brewed coffee in the morning. It rained all night and this morning, it looks pretty hazy out there. No matter how pretty and clear a perfect spring or summer day might be, there is something I love about sitting with coffee when it's rainy and cold outside.

My mom and brother are coming this morning with a truck to help me pack up some of our large furniture--the physically demanding part of moving. As much as I dread taking apart the dressers and night stands and finally clearing off this table that I've been using as a desk for the past few weeks, I'm still so excited to see them. I got some work done on my thesis this week, but not nearly as much as I wanted. So here I am, with a lot to do today, but still feeling so very thankful.