I called twelve people. Three said yes. We sat in the back yard and shared Sunday Dinner. Joy. Good food.
It started shortly after noon. I prepped the game. I melted some duck fat. I marinated the meat. I started the confit on top of the stove, moved it into a 275 degree oven, and let it cook for three hours. It was sublime.
We dressed the table on the back porch. We arranged plates and napkins. We set out a few bottles of wine. We ate.
Dinner was gone in less than an hour. We sat there around the table for several more. We talked about life. We drank some more wine. We told truths.
One by one, they left. Lindsay first. He had to get home to his wife. Salome next. She'd stopped by for a brief minute - which turned into a brief few hours. Then Daniel. He'd worked all day and was tired. Vali - one of our best friends - was the last to go. I called her an Uber. She wasn't drunk, but it was late and we'd had a few glasses. The back yard was empty, save Kim and me. It was quiet. It was lovely.
There was an echo of laughter and conversation. There was still a faint smell of wine and smoke. It was quiet. It was lovely.
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