Or maybe it's my fading vision. It's certainly not the little tidbits I try to photograph, lord knows. I love what I cook -- usually.
Today we made a rustic galette with market stone fruit. It was the inaugural use of our antique marble-topped washstand, which we lugged into the kitchen today. This tired old townhouse is finally becoming a home. We used to keep the washstand in the dining room of the former residence, but with its perfect height for manual labor, and its cooling stone surface for pastry dough, it has a new place of honor in the kitchen.
And the galette? Filled with apricots, plums and peaches, melded with only a pinch of brown sugar, an impossibility of cinnamon, an innuendo of lavender, a disbelief of salt and cracked pepper, and an anchoring of diced semi-soft goat cheese (a new type for us from the market: Chevito, made in Lakeport). Oh, I forgot to mention the insinuation of finely minced sage leaf and the hunky handful of chopped walnuts. Gonna go have me a slice now.
Stuff this pretty deserves a better picture. I'm looking into it...