Day one.
The first box is officially packed. Closed. Full. A few cookbooks (those always come with us), a few sheets, two picture frames, both with girls in them. One of them has a picture of Laura and I, in Florida, my skin so tanned I look like someone else, as it glistens on the developed photo with an almost copper tone to it. A flower in my hair, Laura smiling next to me. I wonder how many times her and I have been smiling next to each other?
The other picture frame has a little girl sitting on a beach. Her back to the camera, her perfect soft brown skin glowing in the sun, the mustard colored sand underneath her, and the perfectly blue Caribbean sea almost reaching her feet with its bubbly white foam.
Now they're leaving Boston. As are we. Relocating to California, I wrote on my reason for leaving in my resignation letter. Then I held it in my hand as I waited for the elevator, and I looked at it, the perfect curves of the capital C, followed by the a and the l, then the i and the f, effortlessly drawn onto the white paper, then the o, the r, n, i again and finally a. As I smiled at the word a thought slowly took over my brain: we are not going to San Francisco, we are going to California! Yes, Sonoma is right around the corner, but we're not really going home. This is another new adventure.
Day one of packing, slowly but surely, every single object in this apartment will go into some sort of container, and then into the back of a truck, and onto the great American highways.
About three or four hours later, one and a half boxes are now packed. You might say I took a very long break. As I tried to concentrate into what else I might want to neatly place inside that box, I couldn't shake the thoughts of fried chicken sandwich out of my mind.
In the kitchen I had some chicken thighs in some rock salt that had to be taken care of. So I stopped packing for a few hours, and took care of it. Now that the chicken is waiting for me swimming in a buttermilk, Chile powder and garlic pool, I can try to go on with this packing party.
The biscuits are also done. And in the oven there are some heirloom tomatoes baking with some rhubarb for a crisp. I macerated them with some lime juice and zest, Serrano chiles, ginger, lemongrass and agave nectar. Then I added some flour and threw a star anise and about a third of a whole vanilla bean in there. It's in our green le creuset baking dish that Kevin gave us. The plan is to top it with a cornmeal streusel.
Kevin showed up with two six packs: Anchor Steam and Razor 5, both from the Northern California area that we are moving to.
I made some coleslaw with some thinly sliced cornichons, some guacamole, smothered the biscuits with bacon fat and built our sandwiches. Although the chicken was a bit too salty from sitting in the rock salt for too long, the sandwich itself was delicious. We watched "Big trouble in little China" on Blue Ray, with a commentary from Kurt Russel and the director.
Time goes by so fast. I still remember that night at No 9's kitchen, when Ben and Kevin started arguing about the Big Trouble Little China DVD and I realized that Kevin was gonna stay with us just like the cookbooks.
The first box is officially packed. Closed. Full. A few cookbooks (those always come with us), a few sheets, two picture frames, both with girls in them. One of them has a picture of Laura and I, in Florida, my skin so tanned I look like someone else, as it glistens on the developed photo with an almost copper tone to it. A flower in my hair, Laura smiling next to me. I wonder how many times her and I have been smiling next to each other?
The other picture frame has a little girl sitting on a beach. Her back to the camera, her perfect soft brown skin glowing in the sun, the mustard colored sand underneath her, and the perfectly blue Caribbean sea almost reaching her feet with its bubbly white foam.
Now they're leaving Boston. As are we. Relocating to California, I wrote on my reason for leaving in my resignation letter. Then I held it in my hand as I waited for the elevator, and I looked at it, the perfect curves of the capital C, followed by the a and the l, then the i and the f, effortlessly drawn onto the white paper, then the o, the r, n, i again and finally a. As I smiled at the word a thought slowly took over my brain: we are not going to San Francisco, we are going to California! Yes, Sonoma is right around the corner, but we're not really going home. This is another new adventure.
Day one of packing, slowly but surely, every single object in this apartment will go into some sort of container, and then into the back of a truck, and onto the great American highways.
About three or four hours later, one and a half boxes are now packed. You might say I took a very long break. As I tried to concentrate into what else I might want to neatly place inside that box, I couldn't shake the thoughts of fried chicken sandwich out of my mind.
In the kitchen I had some chicken thighs in some rock salt that had to be taken care of. So I stopped packing for a few hours, and took care of it. Now that the chicken is waiting for me swimming in a buttermilk, Chile powder and garlic pool, I can try to go on with this packing party.
The biscuits are also done. And in the oven there are some heirloom tomatoes baking with some rhubarb for a crisp. I macerated them with some lime juice and zest, Serrano chiles, ginger, lemongrass and agave nectar. Then I added some flour and threw a star anise and about a third of a whole vanilla bean in there. It's in our green le creuset baking dish that Kevin gave us. The plan is to top it with a cornmeal streusel.
Kevin showed up with two six packs: Anchor Steam and Razor 5, both from the Northern California area that we are moving to.
I made some coleslaw with some thinly sliced cornichons, some guacamole, smothered the biscuits with bacon fat and built our sandwiches. Although the chicken was a bit too salty from sitting in the rock salt for too long, the sandwich itself was delicious. We watched "Big trouble in little China" on Blue Ray, with a commentary from Kurt Russel and the director.
Time goes by so fast. I still remember that night at No 9's kitchen, when Ben and Kevin started arguing about the Big Trouble Little China DVD and I realized that Kevin was gonna stay with us just like the cookbooks.
