Now on Tuesday evenings (well, most Tuesdays) Will and I, and sometimes others, have been gathering at either my apartment or Camille's house for a big dinner. Last night Camille and I whipped up a big batch of chicken enchiladas. Although a simple recipe, it is one dear to my heart. It's a dish I've only ever made with my dad, and reminds me of weekends in Friday Harbor, my sister, dad and I crammed in the kitchen of the houseboat, everyone with their individual task, helping to craft dinner.
Last night was a testament to how much food can spark memories, and provide the definition of comfort food. Sometimes good food is just that, good, and others it's much, much more.
Note the sangria in the background, not too bad considering it's out of a box!