an unusually good day in the life

Every so often you get a day, or a portion of the day, which is just perfectly satisfying. Here's mine.

I decided I wanted something special for dinner. I'd had the foresight to marinate some chicken, in a champagne-pear salad dressing (I had bought the dressing from Trader Joe's on Mom's recommendation, found it was too sweet for me as a salad dressing, but makes a great marinade), so now I just had to decide how to cook it. Usually when I do chicken and pasta I make a traditional white sauce, but this time I wanted something not quite as thick. A dip into Joy of Cooking gave me the needed inspiration, and I went off to Trader Joe's for my ingredients.

I'd thought I might wait a while before starting to cook, but I was already hungry by the time I got home so I got straight to work. Followed much sizzling of olive oil, chopping of onions and garlic and mushrooms, simmering of chicken broth, mincing of fresh thyme. I had about a shot's worth of cognac left-- half of it went in the sauce, half of it went in the baby snifter I got at Oglethorpe's homecoming one year. Also some heavy cream, and of course salt and pepper. The result? A very thin, slightly creamy sauce, laden with chopped-up onions and mushrooms, and smelling heavenly.

I had intended to eat my dinner while watching the first of the two-part Dr Who, the conclusion of which was airing and being recorded as I finished my cooking. When you have a really lovely meal, though, it's an insult to eat it in front of the television,* so instead I got my Andrew Lang and read all about how Petru, the youngest of three princes, fought three Welwas and met three goddesses and came home to rule the kingdom. It's funny, I don't remember the story at all, but I recognized the picture of the Welwa the minute I saw it.

*(This rule is inviolable. The best accompaniment to an excellent meal is of course good company and conversation. Lacking this, a book is acceptable, but it must be both well-written and entertaining. Pulpy paperbacks are disallowed, as are textbooks. Under no circumstances may the meal, if the food be really of top quality, be accompanied by anything on a screen: television or computer. This rule, however, only applies to freshly prepared food. Carryout and leftovers are exempt.)

And it really was an excellent meal. Not only that, but it was exactly what I'd been wanting. Come over some time and I'll make it for you.

And then-- ah then-- came time to watch that Dr Who. Some of you were privileged (ay, privileged) to hear my wailing and gnashing of teeth two weeks ago, when I found that not only was the current episode ending on a cliffhanger, but the continuation wouldn't air till two weeks hence. It was, as I commented at the time, the first time I have ever had to wait on a cliffhanger for this best-loved of all shows. Oh sweet torment... anyway, I weathered the interim weeks surprisingly well, though I was obliged to watch the entirety of the 9th Doctor season on DVD to fill the void. But at last, the day was come. Having had the supreme satisfaction of eating an excellent meal of my own cooking, and finishing the last of my cognac, I was now to see the much-waited resolution.

This is usually the point in the evening where something goes wrong: the recording misfires, the roommate comes down and turns on the television before I have time to dibs it, something like that. If we were permitted moments of perfect satisfaction very often, they wouldn't be notable enough to write blog entries about. On this occasion, nothing went wrong.

It was really a very good episode. I have been unusually impressed by a few of the third season episodes (Gridlock springs to mind) and this one stands with them. The acting and direction were beautiful and intriguing in a number of instances (the human forms of the blood hunters, for example, managing to be what so few Dr Who villains are: weird but not comical.) And of course the remarkable Thomas Sangster, with his ten-year-old face and fifty-year-old eyes. And the story had two infallible sources of fascination for me. First there's the merciless digging into what it means and what it costs to be the Doctor (a popular theme in the new series; I'm philosophically ambivalent about its continued use, but I always enjoy seeing it). Then there's the World War I melancholy, which has enthralled me since I first read Rilla of Ingleside.

So now my stomach is filled with lovely food and my mind is filled with lovely Doctor, and just at this moment I really couldn't ask for more. This is what a great day is like: not thrilling happenings or lifechanging news, but simple, peaceful pleasures, enjoyed to the full.

And now to finish up, I think I will listen to some Nina Simone, write the second half of that fairy tale I started, and drink the 90-minute IPA that I've been saving for a month. And it will be good.

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Post Scriptum: If you ever have the impulse to listen to Nina Simone with your eyes closed, go ahead and do it, but be careful. I think one could die of it.