I moved into a new apartment this weekend.
1 large sofa
1 [quite massive] kitchen table with 4 chairs
1 queen mattress and boxed spring
Even more kitchen stuff
No really, why is there so much kitchen stuff?
Okay but come on with the clothes. Really?
Needless to say, Daniel was scraping my limp body off the sidewalk on Friday morning, afternoon, and night.
I [sorely] missed our first Seattle home.
I clung to that Sub Zero refrigerator.
I told my marble countertops that no one would ever love ‘em so good.
I mouthed I miss you already to all twenty-seven of the functions of my microwave.
I looked at that porcelain sink o’ mine and told her she was as purdy as purdy gets. She blushed.
Daniel didn’t understand why I’d miss it so. Kiddo, we’re moving to another great place! The new apartment has more charm; it’s homey; we’ll make it our own! Hey! There’s a backyard!
But b-bu- but- oh nevermind.
The only one who seemed to understand my plight was my dear friend, Edna. She’s 8 years old, also a chihuahua, and she lives across the hall. We get each other. You know how it goes.
It’s not the bedroom that I’ll fret over. Not the bathroom, the closets, or the windows doubly as tall as me.
No, it’s the kitchen.
I’ll miss her dearly.
But I’m getting cozy with my new one. Figuring out the right sway from stove to sink to supper table. It’s going to take a week or two to find my groove. It’s going to take a week or two, but I’ll make her mine. I’ll stock her silly with microplanes and garlic presses and no less than 6 (uh huh, six) tubs of marshmallow Fluff.
I bet you’re *interested to know what the first meal I made in my new place was?
Roasted stuffed shrimp.
It just felt right. Summery and special. Seattle was positively radiant on Friday and Saturday. 75 degrees, not a cloud over head.
The sun talked me into beaching and kayaking and *margaritas.
*You know how she can be.
I love everything about this dish. The way the olive oil brushed shrimp tend to drip the heady flavor of garlic and parsley and lemon onto my plate. The way shrimp crisps and sort of snaps between my teeth before revealing a juicy, tender middle. The richness of a well seasoned bread stuffing. The way a hot, crisp-skinned tater picks up all of that salty flavor. And how sour cream melts into the all the pierced fork holes in that fluffy potato middle. How chives brighten and refresh the palate between bites.
Just trust me here.
This meal made my fifth move in the past four years bearable. It also made Daniel forgive me for telling him I hated all of his belongings.
I [almost] regret saying it.
Click here for the recipe.