Pasta Primavera and a Wine Tasting Evening

Last week was rough. By the time Friday rolled around, I was ready for comfort food and down time.

My comfort food is spaghetti with some type of olive-oil/butter based sauce. I chopped up shallots and garlic and mushrooms and sauteed them in olive oil, then added vermouth and simmered it down, finishing with a pat of butter. I swirled the cooked spaghetti in the sauce and topped it with shaved parmesan/reggiano cheese and a chiffonade of fresh basil. It was awesome, exactly what I needed.

Saturday night was reserved for a wine tasting at a friend's house, hosted by Premier Wines of Plano (http://www.premierwines.org/). I was very impressed, both by the wine selection and by the presenter, Luke, who really knew what he was talking about.

We tried 13 different types of wine, and there was plenty of opportunities to ask questions and throw in comments. It was informal and informative, and a lot of fun (not just because we all swallowed the tastings instead of spitting like professionals -- silly professionals!). My favorites were two by Dante: their pinot noir and cabernet sauvignon. At $22 a bottle, they were out of my post-divorce price range, alas, but it was still really fun to try them all out.

Good friends, good food, good wine = good life.

An Old Soul and Scrambled Eggs

This is a tribute post, only incidentally about food. Littleman was a little Yorkie, 2.4 lbs., with the heart of a lion, a HUGE personality, and a very pronounced sense of self. He was 10-12 years old. I wasn't sure and he wasn't talking. He had no teeth, which allowed his long pink tongue to flap in the breeze like a piece of ribbon bubble gum. It gave him a rakish appearance, like he always knew what the joke was before anyone else. He had not been neutered, which gave him a swaggering testosterone edge on Murphy, who had parted company with his balls before he knew what they were for. (Sorry, Murf.)

Lack of teeth did not deter Littleman from eating, laying claim to any food in his vicinity, begging for food, or stealing food from Murphy. He was also able to figure out how to get Murphy to dump the kitchen garbage on the floor so he, Littleman, could take care of the leftover muffin that the humans had shockingly and inexplicably thrown out.

Littleman's favorite food, however, was scrambled eggs. His little body would simply vibrate with excitement when he saw them being prepared, and he would dance and tell whomever was eating said eggs that he would quite enjoy a bit, please. Eggs were savored and enjoyed and not a scrap was wasted.

I truly enjoyed his sassy, cheerful company all summer (the photos show his Texas summer haircut), and I'm so glad he spent some time with me and got to know Murphy, the swimming pool (a little TOO close the first day -- I had to fish him out), the squirrels, and the neighborhood bark-a-thon.

One reincarnation belief states that to be a dog is the last stop before Nirvana and, when I see the look of bliss when a tummy rub is administered, I can believe that Nirvana really is THAT close. Dogs know how to appreciate every moment, they love unconditionally, and they find wonder and happiness in ordinary things. We can learn a lot from them.

Littleman passed away from us at some point between Saturday, November 5 and Sunday, November 6, after a brief illness. He was with the person he loved best, and he will be missed by far more than just one. I hope the reincarnation thing is true, because that means he is in a place that makes him feel as happy as scrambled eggs, with endless tummy rubs. And, really, who could ask for more?