chimichurri lamb chops

You can feel August coming in the waning weeks of July in DC. The endless waves of heat have left our collective bodies and brains soppy and languid, unready to turn on ovens, and some days, even chop a shallot. We read recipes from the comfort of bed, planning Thanksgiving, because who really wants to think about tonight’s dinner. Or we lay prone on an Adirondack chair, wondering vaguely why someone hasn’t proffered a gin rickey. Tans deepen, in spite of expensive French sunscreen. Mosquitos hatch, then buzz quietly around ankles. And still the red line fails to come.