Rhythm, rhythm, rhythm...

Classic chocolate mousse.
Dedicated from afar to my friend, DB.

When the rhythm is absent, life clunks along with no grace.  It's a gravel road, a long length of turbulence, an ocean liner thrown heedlessly about by the waves.  I'm pretty sure I'm not the only one out there who, in such periods, momentarily, petulantly assumes that THE REST OF MY LIFE WILL BE LIKE THIS!  It's terrible, untenable, violent...  Sure as anything, though, couple of deep breaths and the passing of a little time bring forth the things inside you that were hiding from the quake- the poise, the cheer, the balance that the outside world can't really chase away, not at its core.  The joy, my favorite.  After a couple of rhythmless weeks, I find myself better grounded in those things than before I came, and grateful for the challenge that pointed them out to me so clearly.

Chicken liver crostone with marinated capsicums and arugula.

Salad of chilled mussels with shaved fennel, haricots verts, saffron and Pernod.

I am learning about some fabulous New Zealand products-- the dairy, the farmed salmon (don't hate me, don't hate me, don't hate me), THE MUSSELS and oysters and clams and Nelson scallops.  I already mentioned the eggs, but they bear another reference.  We have a relationship with a marvelous farmer named Rosemary, who supplies us with beautiful arugula, fennel, red onions and mixed lettuces.  The guys, AJ and Mark, in the butcher shop are two of the nicest people I've ever had the pleasure of doing business with.  I know where stuff comes from now, I know that I'm equipped to make the decisions, orders and last-minute calls required of me.  And at the end of all of those logistics?  Inspired, inspiring cooking.  Cooking that I love as much as I love anything on earth.  My work.

Roast salmon with fennel, fried potatoes and Umbrian-style salsa verde.