It's usually the only time where there is no barrier between you and your food - no small talk, no house music, no riotous crowd, no pretense. Your head isn't clouded with sleep, either. I think the best restaurant criticism I wrote was after long, solitary lunches, tasting food piece by piece and thinking about how they fit together. I remember a lot of those long lunches, glass of wine caught in the sunlight, savoring and surreptitiously scribbling notes. Restaurant dinners, I remember less.
Anyways, today I ate something at home, which seemed pretty good, and so I thought I'd share it with you. Tuna salad with onions and thyme. Chicken liver terrine with coriander root and black pepper, cooked the night before and cool from the fridge. All of it smeared on crusty bread. Perfect was all it said.
Update: Someone sent me a note about that bread in the photo. At my own peril (I eat it several times a week, and it's hard to get) I'll share with you this secret: