At what distance are you supposed to do the “acquaintance smile”?  I’m talking about when you’re walking in a public place, and someone you kind of know but not really is approaching.  It would be polite to smile or say hi or acknowledge the person somehow, but when do you do it?

That happened to me the other day.  I saw this guy, friend-of-a-friend, we’ve been at the same parties but never really had any one-on-one conversations or anything.  I noticed him from probably half a block away, and I planned to acknowledge him pleasantly at a distance of around 10 feet.  I looked around at other stuff until I got to the 10-foot mark, at which point I looked up.  However, at that point he was looking around at other stuff.

Did I miss the moment?  Was he looking at me, ready to be pleasant, at 15 feet, then assumed I either didn’t see him or was too stuck-up to say anything because I was looking at other stuff?  Or is HE the one who’s stuck up and he totally dissed me?

This sort of thing happens to me a lot, and I think maybe I just wait too long for the contact.  It’s weird if you do it too soon, though, because then you’re walking toward each other for so long, looking at each other, and there’s too much build-up for such a small interaction.

There really needs to be some kind of rule book for this sort of thing.

I got a bug up my butt to cook a fancy dinner last night.  It turned out pretty well, except that it’s hard to nibble the flesh off tiny quail with a grumpy baby in the high chair.  Don’t ask me why he wasn’t satisfied with mushed-up peas and Teddy Poofs.

Here’s the recipe, adapted from Gourmet (and epicurious.com). I didn’t take any pictures of this because it was my first time making it and I wasn’t confident about the beauty aspect.  I did, however, make a key lime pie for dessert, so the photo you see is evidence of that process.

QUAIL WITH ONIONS AND RED GRAPES (serves 2, can be doubled)

• 1/2 cup balsamic vinegar
• 1 tablespoons honey
• 2 teaspoons dried bouquet garni blend (could also use fresh thyme)
• 2 tablespoons butter
• 1 medium yellow onion (I like Peru Sweets), cut into bite-sized chunks
• 4 whole quail (5 to 6 ounces each), cleaned and necks and feet removed  if necessary
• 1.5 cups red seedless grapes
• salt and pepper

Preheat oven to 475°F.In a small saucepan boil vinegar, honey, and bouquet garni over moderate heat, stirring occasionally, until reduced to about 1/4 cup, about 5 minutes. Pour glaze through a fine sieve into a small bowl, discarding herb solids, and reserve. In another small bowl stir together 1 tablespoons reserved glaze and 1 tablespoon melted butter.

Heat a flameproof roasting pan (I used my cast iron) in oven 10 minutes. In heated pan toss onions with remaining tablespoon butter, remaining teaspoon bouquet garni, and salt and pepper to taste and roast in upper third of oven, stirring occasionally, about 15 minutes.

While onions are roasting, prepare quail. Rinse quail and pat dry. Season inside and out with salt and pepper. Brush quail inside and out with about one third glaze-butter mixture and tie legs together with kitchen string (I didn’t do this and I wish I had, because they looked a little pointy).

Add grapes to pan and toss with onions. Arrange quail, breast sides down, over onions and grapes and roast 15 minutes. Turn quail over and baste with about half of remaining glaze-butter mixture. Roast quail, basting with remaining glaze-butter mixture, 10 minutes more, or until juices run clear when fleshy part of a thigh is pierced (I suggest checking them a little sooner, as mine came out a bit dry).

Discard string from quail and transfer to a platter. Arrange grapes and onions around quail using a slotted spoon and keep warm.

You can use the remaining glaze to drizzle around the plate; I also used some to make a little vinaigrette salad dressing.

It has been a downright crappy year for tomatoes.  We had those pesky floods, then the rest of the summer was cool.  We also got our plants in late, which didn’t help (don’t blame Denny; every time he headed out to do yard work/gardening I said, “No, stay and help me with the baby!”).  We got lots of green tomatoes, but I was afraid we were going to get to fall with no red fruit.

This saddened me deeply.  It seems like tomatoes are a popular food to dislike; tomatoes often show up on people’s most-hated foods lists.  Why?  Why?  They’re like sunshine in your g.d. mouth.  They’re the basis for our two national condiments, salsa and ketchup (and can I mention how delighted I am that tomatoes are contributing to our changing demographics?).

Fortunately, a mild fall with some nice warm days yielded a small but pretty tomato crop.  Last night Denny and I had panini with tomatoes, garden basil, fresh mozzarella, and bacon.  I also scrounged up enough to make one big pot of tomato sauce.  Making tomato sauce is one of my favorite early-fall rituals.  I’m not brave enough to try canning it; the sauce spends the rest of the year in our chest freezer, and I get it out now and then to make pasta sauces, tomato soup, chili, or whatever else seems like it would benefit.

The “recipe” isn’t much of one, and it’s very simple—just big chunks of onion sauteed in some olive oil, garlic, lots of tomatoes (skin, seeds, and all), basil, and a little sugar and salt.  I blend it into oblivion with my handy stick blender:  the skins get pulverized to nothingness, and I’m not offended by some seeds in my sauce.  If you want to go to the trouble of blanching and de-seeding your tomatoes, be my guest, but I find it’s not worth the effort.  When I make soup, I strain it; if I’m going for a chunky sauce, I might throw in a can of Muir Glen diced tomatoes; if I’m making pizza sauce, I’ll reduce it way down.  Obviously additional seasonings go in on a dish-by-dish basis as well.

I’m so glad I got to make sauce this year, even just one smallish batch.  It would have been like summer didn’t count otherwise.  Now, what to do with all that remaining basil?  Pesto party!

I love making food that I neither planned for nor shopped for; I just got in the mood for it and I happened to have the ingredients.  It’s like Antiques Roadshow for me:  I had these treasures all along, and I just had to arrange them into something wonderful.

Case in point:  quick and easy individual apple crisps.  These are good for so many reasons.  First, anything served in an individual dish is better than the analogous thing served out of a big pot.  When you dig into an individual ramekin of something, it feels like someone cared enough to make it just for you.  Also, they cook faster that way.  It’s prime apple season, fall is just beginning to hint around about its chilly presence, and there’s just enough vanilla ice cream in the freezer to top two servings.

This sort of confluence of events thrills me.  Also, the VP debates are tonight.  What better way to celebrate being an American (and let’s remember that patriotism doesn’t have a political party; you can be proud of your country and anxious to improve it even if you lean toward the blue side) than with something apple pie-esque.

Individual Apple Crisps

Serves 2, but can easily be doubled or tripled or whatever.  In fact, the topping made more than I needed.

1 apple, peeled and cut into smallish pieces (I actually used 1.5 apples because gluttony is a family value)
.25 cup AP flour
.25 cup quick-cooking oats
.5 cup brown sugar
some cinnamon and/or nutmeg and/or apple pie spice and/or cloves, maybe 1/2 tsp total
a pinch of salt
a small handful of coarsely-chopped nuts if you like them.  I used pecans.
about 1/3 stick of butter

Preheat oven to 350F.  Put the apples into 2 ramekins or other single-serve oven-safe vessel.  Mix the dry ingredients, then cut in the butter.  Sprinkle generously on top of the apples. Bake for 30 minutes or so.  Top with ice cream.