hare, noodles, red cabbage, polenta – again


On the day before the day before the first day of the year, we ate, . . . leftovers.  But there are leftovers and there are leftovers.  This was an assemblage of the latter, by which I mean it was a meal in which each element tasted as good as or better than it had its first time around, and now each had a chance to show itself off in new company.

The fresh baby spinach from Rogowski Farm, whihch I barely wilted, was the only part of the meal which hadn’t been prepared in the days prior.