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No sausage tonight.

 






Start time for the prep.




The cheese with the mustard has nothing to do with dinner and everything to do with drinking and cooking-nibbles, you know.



The garlic is ready.



The main ingredient.



Olive oil, soy sauce and liquid smoke, with the garlic.



Red and yellow sweet peppers-green would have been fine but I wanted color.







The best thing about cooking is drinking. This is an opinion I arrived at well before today. And let me add that when I decide to spend ridiculous amounts of money on Burgundy, I prefer Leroy to DRC-perhaps apostasy but I think Madame's wines are sublime. Never an indifferent bottle. (This is a mere Bourgogne but as good as any Village wine. And she manages to bring it under 13% alcohol.)



Ready for the meat.


 
Ready for some risotto.











Now I realize that there is an Austrian, and a masked man who's gone missing, and, perhaps, a Portlandian that think this is ready as is. But it's not. Not around here, anyway.



It's quite obvious that I have had a bit of alcohol at this point. Taking pictures of knives seemed like a good idea. (Still does, sorta)











The wine for dinner.



Cooking.



Cooking longer.



The risotto is almost ready.



The table, with winter gloves. (No idea how I missed that.)



Oh! I switched watches. I used this one for timing the risotto.



Done.



Done.



Plated.



Plated.



It tasted great. As did the wine. 
If anyone is still with me you are invited for leftovers.

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