OMG!

It is so easy!

I grew up in Boston, so that to say shellfish are my faves is to seriously underestimate how much I love them. 

In Martin Walker novels (start with Bruno, Chief of Police), murder and complicated financial crimes almost take a backseat to the loving devotion to food and wine typical of the Périgord. In one, his doctor tries to put him on a diet. Wait. Seriously. This is a diet I could get behind. As many of you know, oysters benefit as much from terroir, although of a watery kind, as wine. Ineffable yet definite characteristics bestowed upon the product by the land from where it grew. Or in this case water. Acres and acres of oyster beds are cultivated in a few cherished spots and the Dordogne is one of the finest. The diet the doctor prescribed to Bruno was to eat at least 3 dozen raw oysters a day to take care of an undefined malady of stomach or digestion

When once faced with the supreme healthfulness of oysters, I energetically put them back into my life. I started frequenting Happy Hour at Santa Monica Seafood Cafe (3-6 P.M. weekdays, oysters freshly shucked, $2 a pop). Then I discovered shucked oysters in their fish shop. Much cheaper. But they told me best not to eat those previously shucked oysters raw. What's a gal to do? Then I remembered a recipe I made up for 

OYSTER STEW

serves 4

2/3 lb. shucked oysters, dried off and chopped

1 smallish shallot, minced (or onion)

1 tbsp. butter

1/4 cup cream (optional)

3 to 3 1/2 cups milk

Cayenne pepper to taste (it also looks good, red in that bowl of creamy white)

Salt and pepper to taste

Melt butter in a thick-bottomed saucepan. 

Toss in shallots and sauté 1 min. 'til golden crispy.

Toss in oysters, stir one more minute at med. high, then reduce to Med. low. 

Add milk and cayenne.

Heat and serve.

So easy!

TROUBLE IN MIND

While my sister Janet said that we should look at it as if we were having 

the world's biggest slumber party, 

I must admit, it's not that festive to me.

This song, written by Richard M. Jones in the early 1920s was recorded by lots of great singers including Louis Armstrong, Nina Simone and Janis Joplin, among many others.

Trouble in mind, I'm blue
But I won't be blue always
'Cause that sun is gonna shine in my back door someday

I'm going down to the river
I'm going top take me a rocking chair
And if the blues don't leave me, I rock on away from here

Trouble in mind, I'm blue
But I won't be blue always
'Cause that sun is gonna shine in my back door someday

Trouble in mind, that's true
I have almost lost my mind
Life ain't worth living, I feel like I could die

Trouble in mind, I'm blue
My poor heart is healing slow
I've never had such trouble in my whole life before

I'm gonna lay my head on some lonesome railroad line
And let that two-nineteen special ease my troubled mind

Trouble in mind, I'm blue
But I won't be blue always
'Cause that sun is gonna shine in my back door someday

Husband and I have been watching the amazing 8-part documentary, COUNTRY MUSIC by the amazing Ken Burns.

Each part is 2 hours long and it starts in the hills in the earliest part of the last century. The series itself is particularly remarkable because of the visual as well as sound history of these earliest singers and musicians from parts of America that I knew little of, yet they had the most profound and far-reaching impact on me and the music I love today.

All American music.

I had been a folk music fan way back when, and this had led me to some of these artists, but the doc. series puts it together so movingly. We cry. I cry.

It sends me to my Home Pod to request Hank Williams and so on, but the deep deepest baritone of Hank Snow always gets me where I live. And since I've been wandering around on the verge of tears already, I thought I'd share. My trouble in mind.

Blog 3/23/2020

SYMBIOSIS?

I’ve learned so many good things from my husband. Who’d 'a' thunk he was learning stuff, questionable stuff, from me?

Last night I jokingly accused him of something, I don’t remember what. Something silly. We’ve been married almost 32 years. In that time I have symbiosised a lot. He is thoughtful, patient, knows how to compartmentalize—all qualities I have tried to emulate with some minor success. 

I’ve seen him, in the course of a cab ride of 25 blocks down 5th Avenue, change the driver’s mind on an important political point. 

To say that I was in awe is to understate. 

He doesn’t get mad. He takes them from wherever they are, and starts there with his reasonable analysis. Taking people at face value is part of it. But this suggests naivete, and it’s not. But somehow he doesn’t remember old stuff and pile it on in an argument. He just takes the situation and keeps it simple, and it works a lot of the time. I try. This was meant as an example of how his stuff has rubbed off on me.

I didn’t have the wit to consider that my stuff, mostly not that good, could be rubbing off on him.

Back to last night. I accused him of a little thing—maybe he hogged the bedcovers, or ate the last of the gluten-free pasta I had made, according to our friend Bruce’s amazing recipe (more about that and the key lime pie later). At any rate, He whirled around, put his hands on his hips, lowered to a semi-crouch, stuck his head forward threateningly, and gave me a look. My look. My pose. My stance. My way of responding sometimes to a tease and sometimes to a serious situation. I couldn’t believe it. He learned that from me!!!!!

It was really funny. We both laughed and I’m sure that’s the last he thought of it (compartmentalizing, remember?) I hope hope hope he didn’t learn the really bad stuff.

Not that that pose, or little series, hasn't served me well. It had, in fact, a huge role in creating my current state of marital bliss. You see when we met, he was still getting over the trauma of a bad marriage, in which the wife seemed to change overnight, become a crazy person, as soon as they were wed. He said he wanted to marry me, “Just not yet,” not just once.

So, as yet unreformed by decades of good example from him, I would confront him from time to time. I wanted to be married. To him. Not getting any younger. As I constantly compared the benefits of our happy, if unmarried, life together, against my diminishing shelf-life as a woman of a certain age in Los Angeles, I was torn. If not now, whatever that now happened to be, when?

One Thursday I noticed that the following Monday would be a cool date. It would be 8/8/88. Lucky numbers. Lucky date?

So, I assumed the pose. I put my hands on my hips. I jutted my head out. I got into a threatening crouch like a witch over a too-low cauldron.  And I confronted him again. I believe my exact, now-immortal words were, in a not terribly inviting tone, “Too bad you don’t want to marry me yet,” I said. I believe there was a sarcastic element in my delivery.

He, taking it fresh as he always did, said, “Why do you say that?”

“Because Monday would be a great date. It will be 8/8/88,” I triumphed, as if I had bested him somehow.

“Okay,” he said, “let’s do it.” We did.

COPING...OR NOT

Are they serious?

I called before I left, having Governor Newsom's words about only essential businesses open in mind. I called par acquit de conscience because I could not imagine anyone not thinking See's Candies is an essential business and must remain open.They said they were open now, BUT WOULD NOT BE OPEN TOMORROW OR AGAIN FOR AT LEAST 2 WEEKS! A week or ago I had bought an emergency supply which was now woefully diminished.

I had a lengthy list for the grocery store as well,  so I thought it would be  okay to venture out. 

But it was closed. They said they'd been closed all day. I must have called a different location in my panic. I stood on the sidewalk importuning the 2 lucky salespeople inside (lucky because they were in there with all that lovely chocolate). A teensy wisp of yummy fragrance wafted noseward as I stood there. They remained firm, not opening, not even finding thin packaged items that could be slid under the door. They wouldn't even try!

You can see by the contours of the above bag that I am running out. 

At Pavilions they were totally out of eggs and basket-style coffee filters. In the checkout line adjacent to mine, a young woman was saying what a random thing it was to be out of filters. I turned to ask where she had found the ones she got. She said, "This was the last one. Here." She opened her pack and plunked a wad of them into my blue-gloved hand. "I hope I don't have the virus on me," she added. I'm not worried, I pour boiling water over them. Nice, huh?

ALSO NICE, DONIZETTI'S LA FILLE DU REGIMENT

We watched the first half of a stellar production offered by the Met, free. 

On TV. Met Opera on Demand is an Apple TV App. It's also available directly on your phone or pad or computer. And you can link up your phone or whatever to your TV if it's smart.There is a free opera from their inventory every night at 7. Each opera is available for 23 hours. Fille is a hilarious story about a baby girl, found by a regiment of soldiers and raised by them. She is now, at opening, of an age and has found love. Arias and choruses and duets ensue. And a lot of marching and drinking.

We were trying to decide, in this embarrassment of riches, whether to watch the second half this afternoon--hard to do with sun streaming in--or wait until tonight's Lucia di Lammermoor, also by Donizetti, comes on. Waiting. 

This morning, pardon the no makeup and too little light, not to mention awkward angle on the legs--husband hadn't had coffee yet-- we swam. That is the one totally safe thing to do, in a chlorinated pool. I sported my new coronavirus red swimsuit.

Looking forward to more Donizetti. And ordering See's online.

 FOOD, GLORIOUS FOOD!

Add caption

Being a foodie can really come into it's own right now. There are so few, well, maybe two things fun to do at home. Food and sex. I don't anticipate having any comments or advice on the latter, except insofar as it's akin to voting: do it early and often.

But FOOD, Glorious Food. Here's the thing.

It's fun to do it together.

Discuss, prep, cook, eat. Usually husband and I sit lazily in front of TV and munch away. But since TV has taken a larger role in our lives, we've stopped eating in front. I set the table, candles and all (electric) and we sit with wine. Yes, this part is dangerous. I'm not sure I had a single night without wine since we started our mild panic. Already our Pavilions was out of our go-to Daou cabernet. I'm not sure what I'll do when we run out at home.

My friend Helena suggests we buy frozen veggies. Great idea. Frozen vegetables are picked just the right moment and flash frozen immediately, guaranteeing optimum flavor and nutrients. As for fresh, well, how long was that head of broccoli in a bin, then on a truck, then on the supermarket display? And how many people have touched it. Likely a lot. Most of what's frozen now was processed before the virus was a factor, also a plus.

I'm going to share four recipes for do-it-together fun and deliciousness.  One a day, I think. The turkey chili below is very forgiving. Any kind of beans. I like the three colors for eye appeal. Any canned tomatoes, large or small cans depending on taste. Fresh garlic is of course wonderful, chopped. A lot of it. Lots of salt. Chorizo sausages instead of what I pictured. If you have fresh tomatoes, add those, same with red peppers (not too many). If you don’t eat pork, chicken chorizo sausages are good.

This chili goes great with homemade-from-a-mix gluten-free cornbread. Add a small salad, et voila. Freeze leftovers for a surprise easy meal at a later date.

Turkey Chili

You'll need a heavy pot or Dutch oven with lid for browning and cooking.

Ingredients:

One can each:

Black beans

Kidney beans

White (cannelloni or other) beans

Chopped roasted tomatoes (any will do but these have a little more kick)

Chopped parsley (whatever is sitting wilting in your fridge)

1/2 brick of pork chorizo

1 lb. ground turkey

1 chopped onion (or combo onion and shallot)

 Garlic in tube or fresh (lots)

Salt, pepper and cayenne to taste

Olive oil for sautéing.

Instructions:

Heat oil medium hot.

Saute onions ‘til lightly browned, remove from pan, set aside.

Saute chorizo and turkey until nicely browned and crusty, chopping as you go in pan.

Add garlic and mix well, same salt and pepper.

When all that done, drain beans, and add all.

Add tomatoes.

Mix well, cover and let simmer for a while to blend flavors.

How I’m Coping

Topics covered over the next few days

LD

Leisurely look at whole NYT

Food

Clean

Social

Bruce’s Key Lime Pie

The last Dinner Party on the West Side

What Brings You Joy (Marie Kondo)

Okay, I caved

Being a lazy bum is really coming in handy in these coronavirus days. This crazy time calls for me doing what I do best, basically, lazing around and when feeling more energetic, procrastinating.


I read, in different rooms, sometimes in bed. I do crosswords, eat, watch TV and rest. Oh, and the occasional nap.


My advice? First thing, try not to get up too early. A shorter day is easier to manage. I get my coffee and get back in bed to read. Sometimes I even fall back to sleep. Husband snoring peacefully beside.



There’s nothing you can do about the first item, MY Husband, no way for you to adapt or adopt. So I’ll leave that for later.

Lets do one at a time.


NYT

WE had been trying to do without the paper version of the New York Times lately, spurred by a desire to save trees and money. It was very hard for me because I do KenKen and crosswords, and they are not available in the online version (unless you pay a hefty fee,) which we bought. We decided to make a serious effort for several {unspecified} weeks, so it would be a real trial. In other words we’d give ourselves time to really get used to the new regimen before deciding it didn’t work.


Of course we caved a little, and I found myself going out Sunday mornings to The Duck Blind liquor store to buy the Sunday paper for $6. Plus tax. We had such a tradition: I got Book Review, Magazine, Styles, Front Page. Husband got Review, Business, Sports. The other sections up for grabs. But very fun is the Spelling Bee by Frank Longo in the Magazine. Doing that puzzle gave us the chance to be actual geniuses, if we got the max words, and we loved it.


To be sure, the Times called. Told us we could have it ½ price the price we had been paying (around $56 a month). We remained strong. Then, last week, they offered it for $5 a week for 12 weeks.  Now at least we have the paper every day. And

How I cope: I page through every section in a leisurely fashion (it helps that there’s hardly any sports.)

I save the puzzles for afternoon coffee.