Silliness and the S-cubed dinner

Such a nice Saturday.

Boys up at 6, overhearing Nutmeg puke, realizing that Percy must have eaten said puke because I couldn't find it anywhere, finishing Jurassic Park shocked that Oliver was completely unfazed by any of it, going to Staples for emergency Sharpies and pens, eating lunch out with the cuties and then...

my in-laws picked them up to take them somewhere fun and keep them overnight. Shut the front door. Right?! Roughly twenty hours by myself.

Admission: now that it's been seven, I kinda miss those bozos. I mean really, just last week we had this conversation in the car:

J: "My butt is named Dave, penis is Roger."

Me, attempting to remain serious: "How interesting. What prompted this naming?"

Oliver: "My penis is named Long Bamboo."

Me: I was unable to remain serious.

Anyway, point is, they can be hilarious.

But, they left, I gardened, went to the gym, went to the market, did some laundry, read, yada. 

After an hour spent with Ann Patchett in This Is the Story of a Happy Marriage (great book of essays, y'all), I decided to make a beautiful dinner for one. Shrimp, sumac, sorrel sauce. Gorgeous.

seared sumac shrimp in sorrel sauce

People, seriously. Is that not stunning?! And so flipping sibilant! Seared sumac shrimp in sorrel sauce. Wha?? Love it!

Sorrel is not an ingredient that goes with just anything. It's a leafy green with an outrageous tang. The sort that'll make you pucker up and say "oo-wee" when you recover. But I love it, and it's beautiful, and it likes cream and shallots and shrimp and all that jazz.

I had a bit of fun with this since I had all the time in the world. After peeling the shrimp, I put the shells in a small saucepan with some white wine, garlic, salt and a chile de arbol. After a few minutes, I strained that, let it cool to room temp and then stirred in some shallots, butter and cream (which I'd later warm just until the butter melted and then toss with the shrimp).  

In a separate pan, I seared the shrimp that I'd marinated with oil, lemon zest, sumac, garlic and shallots. Once they'd cooked, alone and then in the cream, I strained them out and blended the shrimpy cream with the fresh sorrel. The sauce has a marvelous zip and a ridonkulously great color, don't you think?

I might also have had a wild solo dance party during which my pets looked at me askance. Whatever, they can't talk!