Last night after a day on the lake and an evening run in the thick Arkansas air, I was pooped. I hopped on the net to scope out my favorite restaurant in Asheville, Table. We are making a pit stop there on our way to the beach next week, and I am hoping to spend my minimal waking hours there eating some bougie food. After scanning menus at Table and the Admiral (which we have never tried), I really felt like cooking.

Poached Salmon with Sesame-Nori Jus, Candied Turnips, Summer Squash Chips and Wasabi Cukes.

Our garden provided all those yummy veggies!

We ate dinner and watched the Pianist, which neither of us had ever seen before. I’m not going to give a full review of a 12-year old movie, but here are a few feelings/thoughts: To start, I felt a little guilty about eating such a lavish meal while watching people starve. After about two hours, my dinner stashed away in my tummy, I couldn’t believe that we were watching yet another scene of Adrian Brodey running for his life between hideouts. It seemed over the top. I said something to Keely, and she informed me that it was based on his memoir. I felt like a jerk. Right before that moment I was almost ready to turn the movie off. It was just too much to watch. Of course,  in the end, the beauty of his music saves his life when a German soldier takes pity on him after hearing him play. This was the main theme I took away: The power of art to communicate humanity between almost any people. I am no artist, but I try to make food beautiful.