Several large portraits are priceless (I had a garage sale to pay for the one of my son at 18-months) including the one of me and my two grown daughters. I had the presence of mind to have the portrait of my daughters and me done before touch ups would double the cost of this prized possession.
My son once remarked, in an adolescent stupor (aren’t those two one in the same?) he has since outgrown, “That doesn’t really look like you, mom.”
Why do moms get such a bad rap for unsolicited opinions?
It’s probably the letting go that has fueled my passion for capturing the moment (the innocence of a child, the magic of a sunset, the splendor of a flower in full bloom) via a photograph and a few words (take that part lightly). Life, in all its wondrous moments can be very fleeting. Who knows what awaits my memories.
Ice cream can be very fleeting. I admit, that was quite a stretch – life’s wondrous moments segwaying into melting ice cream. My point (there is one, really) is this:
How can any respectable chef in his right mind create this picture of perfection,
this moment of magic, these delectable delights and then simply let them go to
some stranger on the street (no one stranger than me!)?
I guess it all melts (or fades) eventually, which is why I came to my senses, enjoyed the moment and this decadent piece of art although I did manage to capture the moment with my Nikon.
The Crème Brule was the finishing touch to an outstanding experience (meal, ambiance, service; price a little steep but that's Iceland) at Strikid’s in Akureyi. Least you think I devoured both desserts, the Chocolate Mousse belonged to my sister Lynda and her husband Rod.
The setting, with a view of the harbor, was modern but not cold in a way that sacrifices comfort for ultra-sophistication. Our table was in the corner where two of the three large windows forming the perimeter of the restaurant intersected.
I didn’t miss the food we’d had on the road for the last five days while navigating Iceland’s Ring Road, Route 1. As healthy as it was hearty, our lunches lacked the ambiance of a harbor view, a wait staff delighted to meet my every need (what wait staff?) and a chef with a culinary eye for exceeding my expectations while delighting all my senses. Dinners were much better, but reducing the guests around the table from 24 to 2 on this evening we could call our very own was heavenly.
Our entire dining experience at Strikid’s was memorable. We started with drinks, the obvious choice for Lynda and me the Blue Lagoon, a refreshing blend of vodka, Blue Curacao liqueur and lemonade. The guys stuck with tried and true, a Black Russian for Rod, a beer for Jim.
Lynda and I chose the salmon with Hollandaise sauce, fried asparagus and potato mousse. I had to substitute rice for the potato mousse (damn that food allergy). The asparagus was tender yet firm, the fish cooked to perfection with a sprinkle of “fresh” unparalleled. With over 100 self-sustaining salmon rivers in Iceland, fresh is just a fly rod away.
“Cooked to perfection” was all I could get out of Jim as he grinned from ear to ear and beamed. He's so cute when he beams.
For a moment, I did considered running from the building yelling, “Fire,” to escape the dent in my wallet as I gathered up my most prized possession (no, not my cat), my husband Jim. Well, he’s not a possession, but he’s extremely valuable to me, and oh so loveable. But with Iceland's extremely low crime rate, who was I to consider such a dastardly deed.