Wednesday, September 30, 2015

Three Beautiful Things 09/29/15: Home Again, Kale Lentil Soup, From Gridlock to Old Line Bistro

1.  Back home.  I got caught up on my writing, almost,  and uploaded the pictures I took in Harwich and posted them. It made me very happy that several friends enjoyed the pictures.

2.  I bought a ton of kale the other day at Costco and I never got around to making the chicken soup I was going to put it in, but today I found a tasty kale lentil potato soup recipe, cooked it up, and every sample I tasted was terrific.  As I was making this soup, I thought of comments I've read about kale being a fad food. I smiled. For me, the kale fad began back in about 1981 when Dan and Betsy Newell invited me over for dinner and served up the kale they were growing in their backyard garden.  I've enjoyed it ever since.  Oh!  And chard, too.

3.  The Deke had a dental appointment in Bowie at about the least convenient time imaginable to drive there.  Our Subaru was one of about a million other cars traveling the suburban labyrinth between Greenbelt and Bowie. I dropped the Deke off and, knowing I'd accidentally left a stove burner on simmer underneath the lentil soup, I made my way back to Greenbelt to turn the burner off. 

I endured the stop and go Beltway traffic and then threaded my way through the suburban labyrinth again to pick the Deke up.

We crawled back to Greenbelt on the Beltway and decided to relax by driving on to Beltsville, normally ten minutes from Greenbelt, but about a half an hour this evening.

The effort was worth it. 

The Deke worked her way through a pint of the heavenly and hoppy Flying Dog Imperial IPA called The Truth and I savored the piney start and citrusy second verse and slightly sweet and pleasingly bitter finale of Great Divide's Titan IPA.

For dinner, we split a burger called the Walking Dead, a pepper crusted chunk of ground beef dressed with blue cheese and mushrooms -- a burger too big for either of us and perfect to share. We added an order of tasty truffle fries. Soon the memory of crawling our way to Bowie and back disappeared into a lovely, hedonistic fog.

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