ladies who lunch & the gentlemen who iron maiden them

To make up for missing the Neko Case concert last night because I had so much g.d. freelance, I am now sitting on the couch watching a documentary about Iron Maiden's reunion tour and wondering whether I can talk the yachtsman into writing another bl*g post. Things are not looking promising: He is captivated by the washed-up, balding-yet-long-haired metal heads on the TV screen.

So it's just you and me again. You and me and lunch. We'll always have lunch. Well, I'll always eat lunch, anyway.

Slightly congealed balsamic dressing warming up in the windowsill: 3 tablespoons evoo, 1 tablespoon of your nicest balsamic, 1 small shallot (minced), some chopped herb, s&p.

The sweetest, prettiest little cherry tomatoes in the world. If I were a vegetable, I would take them a'courtin'. But I'm not, so I ate them.

Baby romaine from Half Pint (who also grew the tomatoes), goat's-milk feta from Doe's Leap, walnuts from who-know's-where.

I cannot in good conscience tell you to watch Iron Maiden: Flight 666, but I unequivocally recommend this salad. It's crunchy and salty and tangy and sweet and savory. The yachtsman is playing air guitar. Life is gooooooooooood.