I prepared a dish the other night that was so simple, so plebeian really, that I hardly consider it blog worthy. But Clay says, "Write it down, Sweetie!" What can I say? After 23 years he's still my biggest fan. This is definitely a week-night, put-something-on-the-table-cuz-we're-hungry-and-it's-getting-late kind of meal.
Fillet of Sole with White Beans and Tomatoes
8 - 10 sole fillets, or other thinly filleted white fish
1 can small white beans - can be seasoned lightly
1 can Cannelini (large white beans)
2 cans ready-cut tomatoes (if seasoned, use the Italian)
1 ear fresh corn - kernels sliced from cob
2 tablespoons fresh basil, finely sliced
Combine 1 can of ready-cut tomatoes, drained, with the can of small white beans, also drained, and the corn kernels. Gently toss with 1 tablespoon of basil.
Spread the other can of tomatoes and the cannelini on the bottom of a glass baking dish.
Place a large spoonful or two of the tomato-bean-basil mixture on one end of each fillet; roll up and secure with a toothpick.
Place the rolled up fish in the prepared baking dish.
Spoon any left over small bean mixture over the top of the fillets.
Drizzle with a small amount of white wine.
Sprinkle with the remaining basil and a few pinches of sea salt.
Bake in a 350 oven for about 15 minutes.
We served this with grilled zucchini.
Friday, June 24, 2005
The weeds are waist high in my vegetable garden. I can barely make out the greens and purples of my newly planted basil, so lost are they among the wild cacophony of flowering invaders: Native white daisies in full bloom, their yellow centers reflecting the bright yellow blossoms of the invasive dandelions; blue-eyed flax; spikey evening primrose; nastily prolific but handsome copper and yellow coreopsis; native blackberry runners running amok; soft yellow buttercups; and the occasional volunteer onion, its papery white flowers atop a tall, smooth green stalk. Scattered here and there like punctuation marks, gleaming orange nasturtiums that escaped from their border bed grow in the understory that is my forest of weeds.
All these and more, beautiful in their own right, threaten my vision of the orderly rows of green beans, cucumbers, tomatoes and squashes that I have not yet been able to plant.
The late rains have drenched my garden's soil, the sloppy, muddy ground effectively keeping me from the task of weeding the usually easily contained maverick weed population which has grown so lush and abundant this year.
Today I stand on the deck overlooking my vegetable garden, leather gloves pulled on tight, hoe in hand, face raised to the gray and lowering sky, daring it to rain one more drop.