it’s been a great weekend; one of those times when I realize that summertime in Virginia Beach is fun. Driving back from our old haunt on 72nd street with an old highschool friend that i hadn’t seen in over a year, hair salty from the ocean, still sleepy from my nap on the sand, listening to bad Justin Timberlake hip-hop in the car (and loving it) it felt like a real summer day. Like those days that make you forget about whatever else in the world may be going on, and enjoy good food, family, and friends.
I also cooked rockfish last night; I’m talking a 5.5 lb. beauty straight from the bay, fins tails and all, right on the grill. I love Chesapeake seafood, a cold glass of pinot grigio, and fresh homemade bread. Does it get much better than that? I’m not sure that it does. On top of all of that (in addition to the tomato burre blanc sauce), mom treated Christine and me to a repeat viewing of Pirates of the Caribbean. So much fun, yet again.
It’s also summer thunderstorm season, which, while it’s quite an adrenaline rush, and super fun at night, wreaked havoc on my automotive restoration endeavors. The damn hood rusted where I’d been sanding, so that puts me back at least another day on the flaming minivan. Damn shame.
The new reality TV show “Restaurant” starts up tonight, and for as much as I hate those manufactured fake attempts at “real life” I’m going to be suckered in to at least the first episode of ‘behind the scenes’ at a real professional kitchen. I’ve also been suckered into using too many quotation marks. Maybe I’ll be able to justify the show as being research for the Watson, but I feel as though that’s a bit far-fetched.
Well, back to entertaining my guest, and family bonding ’round the glowing television set. Who’d have thought that the Tour de France would have captivated my family so?