Despite tear gas, stomped vegetables, and general discombobulation, we're settling back into home. Our first full day back home since Saturday, or would have been, except we took off to Funkytown to re-stock the stores.
I'm settling back into myself, too. This morning I started the dough for rye bread. We hit the road to go pay rent and buy stuff to replace all the stuff we used up so it wouldn't get poisoned (see "tear gas," above), and on the way the subject of brewing a stout came up. We proceeded to the fermentation supply store for the necessaries, whence off to Trader Joe's. There, the idea struck that a pork tenderloin might be the thing to do, which brought to mind immediately (as it does, for me at least) sauce Robert, the ultimate French sauce for pork.
Sauce Robert requires demi-glace, the basic instrument of the hardest of hard-core French sauces. I make my own, a process that takes three days, but at the moment we're out. We'd anticipated this, and nabbed some bones the last time we trekked out to Marin County for meat. These I have roasted and am now simmering away to make the 3 or so quarts of stock that will eventually become a couple pints of demi-glace.
Meanwhile, the rye bread dough rises, and I'm listening to the Penguins game over the internets (as we say around here). Lauren is painting a yellow chrysanthemum-like flower onto the black cosntruction paper "fish tank" in the kitchen, inspired by the flowers we bought today.
Bread, beer, demi-glace, Penguins, art. I'm home.