Paul came over for dinner last night. I made tomato-broccoli quiche (with homegrown basil!) and an oddball salad whose ingredients—mixed greens, strawberries, pears, blueberries, and orange-shallot vinaigrette—shouldn't have worked together, but they did so nicely. I think Paul found my culinary mutterings amusing. "Ohhnonononono," I muttered to the milky middle of the quiche. "I forgot the olive oil!" I yelped after creating a reduction of orange juice and vegetable stock. And so on. Still, dinner turned out well. We ate everything except one slice of quiche, and Paul had his first-ever taste of mochi. I missed cooking for other people.
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