Tonight, I made the Truite aux amandes, although, alas, in the end it turned into Truite sans amandes because I remembered the almonds only after we sat down to eat. The little bag of almonds sitting in the ingredients pile next to the butter, parsley and lemons might as well have been left in the shopping cart at Lunds. Oddly, I remembered the slice of lemon. I remembered the parsley garnish. Evidently my subconscious was stunned enough at the prospect of sauting almonds in 10 TBL of butter that it just drew a blank. In addition to forgetting the butter-sauted almonds, I reduced the fat content of the recipe by using butter-flavored canola spray instead of 3 Tbl of butter plus 1 Tbl of oil. I'm sure that the flavor would have been much richer with butter and nuts, but it was good without it too.
Arthritic, hobbled Hobbes was like a cat-possessed. The trout seemed to put a spirit of youth in him. He performed acrobatic feats to reach the counter where I was preparing the trout. When I stood up to get the salt, he moved like a flash and almost got some off my plate.
We served the trout with the pommes à l'Anglaise, roast asparagus and delicious baguette made from "artisan bread in five minutes a day." I had a French white, and Tom had a red.