







I poured myself a glass of wine and ate my tuna. I was so hell-bent on enjoying it hot and fresh, as soon as it was ready, that I didn't have anything else prepared to go with it. No vegetable, no salad. Green beans are allowed to sit there in the refrigerator for another day. Just tuna and a big, chilly glass of Pinot Grigio for me. It tasted like the ocean and summertime.









I managed to save a piece for Rob, but it was a pretty close call.

I've been meaning to post a recipe for a while, but I haven't actually cooked anything in a while. Packing, writing, and Chinese delivery apparently go very well together. And if Rob is busy for dinner, I usually just end up throwing a salad together or heating something up really quickly for myself and calling it a meal. So when Rob had a meeting at six last night, I figured I'd just eat leftover Chinese food or heat up some soup for dinner.But my brother went on a deep-sea fishing trip over the weekend and came back with a load of fresh tuna, and you don't just let fresh caught wild tuna sit around in your refrigerator. Sean was supposed to come to Charlottesville with my mom yesterday and help us move furniture, but the poor guy wasn't feeling well. He made up for his absence when my mom handed me four tuna steaks in a plastic bag from his aforementioned trip.I'm not someone who gets easily intimidated in the kitchen, so I thought it was funny that four uncomplicated pieces of meat were able to make me feel so nervous about cooking. They seemed precious to me, like a little gift--four pink jewels that my brother had labored over and caught with his own hands. They were so perfect, even in their rawest state, and I feared that I might destroy their impeccable simplicity.I stood in the kitchen for several minutes, trying to decide how best to prepare them. The sushi-loving part of me wanted to just slice them up and eat it raw, but I finally decided on a simple sprinkle of salt and pepper, and then onto my grill pan.