(1 Minute Read)
For dinner tonight, Justin seared tuna for us at home. He hates when people use too much salted butter and you end up with stiff, dark edges as a dish. He prefers when the flatbed of the freshest slice of tuna is set to dry, and then seared to a perfectly pale orange. He prefers to serve it just as it arrives at its finest moments of delicacy. He delights in the fleeting window of time as flavor peaks alongside temperature and texture. And that is when he sets the plate six inches from my chest. I take a bite to taste, and when I look up at him, he sees me, and grabs the salt.