Apparently, I actually have something in common with one of my favorite artists, Bronzino. No, it's not wildly acclaimed artistic talent. Rather, we both love panzanella, according to some writings that Wikipedia finds very important indeed.
Well, my version is somewhat different than his. I included feta and cucumber and mint, and, sadly, excluded the purslane. The bread I used was pretty darn good, though, just a simple French loaf that took me a scant three hours to make. The rest of it will probably make an appearance tomorrow, dare I say in crostini form.
Just for fun, here's a Bronzino painting!
There are some surprisingly sexy (and, although I couldn't really find any details on Google images on which I could expound to support my statement, homosexy) bits in this, for a painting that depicts Christ's descent into Limbo.
And now for drivel: True salad weather is fast approaching--I even considered making the salad around 5:30 and then waiting to eat just so I could exploit the last few minutes of daylight, which no longer occur hellishly early--and I am absolutely titillated. I'm not a sufferer of seasonal affective disorder. In fact, I have to hold myself back from sneering at the idea that seasonal affective disorder is an actual named thing (I may think it sounds pathetic, but the DSM calls it an indicator of true major depressive disorder). But there's something about actual sun and green things and little birdies flitting everywhere* that is just plain nifty.
*Or, like the bird Andy and I saw the other day, lifting off the ground and promptly flying into a brick wall. Don't worry, it had only traveled about 3 feet, so it was okay.