Penitent Templar

Hatred isn’t the right word. But there is a bristling resentment. Like the creaking of the boughs of an old oak in the wind, the tree loves the breeze, but hates the reminder that it can be moved.

So to, will I always cherish your presence in my life, while my wounded pride begrudgingly accepts the fact that I want you here.

Desiring the continued presence of another, and indeed the revelation that you desire some degree of longevity in the undertaking, is a humbling and terrifying admission that one’s life would be marred by the other’s absence.

It is an acknowledgment of them having the ability to cause you pain by their departure.

It is an acceptance that yes, this person has a degree of power over you, that you yourself gave them — consciously or not, and that all you can do is hope that they wield it well.

It is galling to pride, anathema to ego, and to retreat is ifs own act of cowardice.

All that’s left is to plunge into the breach —

Wade into the abyss —

So, where to start.

Roasted broccoli in a cumin, ginger, and balsamic vinaigrette glaze, with toasted almond and sesame seeds and smoked sugar.

Roasted green beans coated with a rosemary-basil compound butter with paprika, Himalayan salt, and cracked black pepper.

Baked potatoes, seasoned with olive oil, thyme, garlic, cracked black pepper, and Himalayan salt.

A NY Strip Au Poivre with an additional homemade rub, basted in a rosemary-basil compound butter with a pan sear, on top of a French baguette with mascarpone cheese, homemade sauce (which will receive its own breakdown) and a sweet basil garnish.

The sauce is perhaps the centerpiece of the meal. Made with sweet onions, added to sweet cream butter infused with sage, basil, and thyme, with added cayenne, paprika, and cracked black pepper, with a dash of white pepper as well. Cooked until golden-brown with a serving of balsamic vinaigrette, and then blended into a smooth, creamy texture and drizzled across the top of the steak.

The cider is a local hard cider.