This was taken at one of the many parks in Queens, NY. Here we have the Hobbitt, walking down one of the trails, reflected in a puddle from a passing rainstorm. Although it looks like a vertical panorama, it's just an extreme cropping to emphasize the subject matter

It's Sunday, and it's been officially declared a "clump day." (see Feb 17, 2006 for an explanation of "running and "clumping.") It's cold outside, and it's time to catch up on indoor things. Books recently purchased will now be read, the chaos that fills our little house will be sorted, and we will generally relax.

Last night, we pretended that we ate out at a fancy restaurant. When we lived in NYC, we ate out a lot, but here in rural Virginia, there are no NYC-class restaurants nearby. In a way, that's a good thing, since it forces you to provide a better class of home-cooked meals. (Although there are no fancy restaurants nearby, there are plenty of places to buy fancy ingredients for your own cooking. And that was one of the stops in yesterday's running.)

So, while the Hobbitt laid on a fire in the library fireplace, I made steak tartare, the main course. (If you want to get into an interesting discussion with your local butcher, ask him which cut of meat he recommends for steak tartare. I chose a cut of filet mignon with very little fat.) Here's the secret for making steak tartare: don't use a meat grinder to chop it up. This just gives raw hamburger. Instead, use a sharp knife and a little patience to cut it up by hand. This gives a wonderful texture that can only be achieved with this method.

Along with the main course, we had some Epoisses cheese and some rosé champagne. Scarfing this down in front of the fire, I imagined us at Café Le Bouledogue on rue Rambuteau in Paris.