Quick Tuna Fish Upgrade

Lovely Daughter #1 is madly studying for her Step One exam, which all med students take at the end of their second year of schooling. I've been shoving yummy, prepared food under her nose and into her fridge so that she can concentrate on studying, not cooking.

Recently I did a quick upgrade of your classic tuna fish sandwich for her and her Med School Bestie. I started with a really good, pole-caught tuna and some fresh dill:

I added some of these babies. Sea-salt capers. Wow, they're good! To reduce their saltiness a bit, I simply rubbed off some of the salt before throwing them in the bowl:

I used a garlicky aioli sauce instead of mayonnaise:

But really, either is yummy:

And that's it! Tuna, capers, fresh dill, and mayo or a mayo-like substitute. In a sandwich or on a cracker, this is a delicious upgrade from the old school-lunch classic:

Now, back to the books, future doctors of America!

Growing Herbs, and Blue on Blue

My mother was a masterful gardener. She used to say, "Find out where something wants to grow, and then plant lots of it there." It's a good system. It makes you look like you really have a green thumb, when all you've done is just figure out where plants are happiest.

I''ve only grown herbs for two seasons, but I've made a few discoveries. First, I need LOTS of basil and LOTS of mint for the pastas and iced tea I consume all summer. (Here's Won Ton, showing off my newest purchase of basil (left) and mint (right)):

I've learned that mint is an aggressive grower. It needs to be corralled in a pot or by some system that will keep it in check. (If you just plop it in the ground, it will send runners out for yards and pop up in the most annoying places.) I grow my mint in a huge turquoise pot. The variety I grew last year, "Kentucky Colonel," didn't completely die out. Here are some behbeh sprouts, making a comeback around the edges of said pot:

I'm going to put the new mint in the center, where last year's plant has all died out.

I've learned that rosemary is quirky. Here's a Very Unhappy Rosemary plant, that started dying almost from the day I put it in a pot:

But right next to it is a Very Happy Rosemary, in the same kind of pot:

What is the difference? I'm sure I don't know.

I've learned that while I can grow basil in a pot, it REALLY likes growing in between tomato plants:

 Mr. Baby Basil, happy as a clam.

And it does NOT like growing all by its lonesome, four feet away from said tomato plants:

 Mr. Bitty Basil Plant is NOT a happy camper.

I've also learned that, when I see a bushy blue delphinium at the garden shop that literally makes me stop in my tracks and say, "AH!," that plant needs to come home with me.

Where shall I place it? It looks terrific sitting on the arm of my Adirondack chair, but that makes it hard to sit there:

It looks lovely tucked amongst the blue pots of herbs:

But maybe I'll put it in the ground near my turquoise bird bath:

I hope it thrives there. Mom would approve of the blue-on-blue, I'm sure.

Fluffing a China Hutch

Back in March, I found this china hutch tossed out in an alley. I dragged it home and then it sat in my kitchen area for several months. It needed a good cleaning and a little TLC:

It was pretty filthy, and this was the only knob it had:

I thought I would paint it a different color, but after hanging out with it, I realized the soft foggy gray color, with an undertone of blue-green, is just perfect. (It helped that a photographer neighbor with an impeccable eye saw it and said, "I wouldn't change a thing!")

Yesterday the handyman came and bolted it to the studs in the wall (we live in Earthquake Country). He also installed these classic knobs I bought at Anthropologie. I love 'em:

I used a hand-held vacuum to pull up most of the dust and dirt hiding in the corners. Then a cotton-tipped swab. Then a dampened rag. Finally, I broke out the Mr. Clean Magic Erasers, and there was STILL plenty of grime clinging to the surfaces:

Eeeuw! Those magic little sponges really work, people.

The inside of the open cabinet door (photo above) has different shades of paint swabbed on it. Maybe the former owner was thinking about painting and gave up? I will probably paint the interior a beautiful turquoise.

Here's a closeup of the grimy sponge:

Then I began "fluffing." What should I put on all those surfaces? This was what I did last March, just as an experiment, when I first dragged the hutch home:

 Except if I keep a cake plate with meringues on top, I'm going to way 340 pounds very soon. So I tried thisaway:

And thataway, but it ended up looking just the same:

And one-more-time-away, and clearly I am not making headway:

*Sigh.* I stink at fluffing.

I'm going to consult my decorating magazines and slavishly reproduce something I find in them.

Interior Decorating Self Confidence: I gots it.

Somewhere.

Cold-Bewed Coffee

 A few weeks ago I bought this at my local farmers' market. Cold-brewed coffee concentrate:

With this, it was easy to whomp up an iced coffee as quick as a flick. Equal parts concentrate, water, and milk. Pour over ice and enjoy. It's delicious. Except it's kind of expensive.

"You know it's really easy to make that at home, right?," somebody asked me. "You just pour some coarsely ground coffee into a pitcher and add cold water":

"Stir it up and cover it with plastic wrap":

"Then pour the liquid through a coffee filter to catch the dregs, and Voila! Cold brewed coffee!"

Yeah, well, I tried it. It's messy, and the result had a faintly nasty smell. Like old, leftover coffee that sat too long in a pot.

So, no. I'm not making it from scratch any more, and I'm probably not buying the expensive concentrate. I'm going back to this baby:

A heaping teaspoon of this, stirred up with a dab of hot water to help it dissolve. Then water and milk and ice, and you've got yourself a fine glass of iced coffee.

Just my speed.

(P.S. Try adding a teaspoon of instant espresso powder to the batter in your next batch of brownies or from-scratch chocolate cake. Soooo delicious!)

When I Grow Up...(Silver Beauty Musings)

When I get to an advanced age, I hope I can achieve a certain look, fashion-wise. I want to avoid going too blah and grandmothery:

(In their defense, these ladies are 100 years old. They can dress however they dang well want. Just sayin'.)

When I'm a certain age, I don't want to give up on fashion and just become One Hot Mess:

I hope to achieve a look that is classic and chic and timeless, with maybe a teensy bit of dash:

  (Please note: If I ever wear fur, it will be faux fur.)

When I'm a senior citizen, I don't want to be a resident of The Land of Utter Kookiness:

And I sure as heck want to avoid scaring my grandchildren. Or anybody else's grandchildren:

I think every senior gal has the right--nay, perhaps the obligation!--to dress however she gol-darn pleases.  But speaking for me, I want to be the gal on the left, not the right:

And Lovely Daughters #1 and #2? If you ever see your Momma dressing like this, please make a neurologist appointment for me right away:

Because this is definitely Mental.

(All photos, except for one immediately above, from the estimable Ari Seth Cohen of Advanced Style. Last photo from People of Walmart.)

See's Scotchmallows

 This is what came in the mail for me yesterday:

Hoo, boy. I'm in trouble. Or, my hips and butt are. Or somebody is. Who can I blame this on?

Ah! It's a slightly-late Mother's Day gift from The Boy. I don't know whether to kiss him or kill him.

The present came wrapped in ice packs and packing peanuts. I've never had so much See's all to myself. What an extravagance!:

And here it is: an entire POUND of my favorite: Scotchmallows!

I dare not open it. Not yet. I have to decide how best to tackle this. Do I trust myself with this? Hide it in my lingerie drawer? Give the whole box to a friend and ask her to dole out one to me per day? 

This is what waits for me inside the packaging:

photos, above and below: Sees.com

A trifecta of marshmallow fluffitude and caramel chewiness, all wrapped up in a chocolate robe:

*Swoon.*

Uh oh! If I post this, it means The Hubby will know I have these (*shifty eyes*).

Do I let him in on the secret? If you read this, well, you know the answer.

Pao Pao the Pug Goes Swimming

It's really hot here in Los Angeles. I've been hiding inside, baking goodies and sticking them under the noses of Lovely Daughter #1 and her best friend from med school, who are madly studying for their Step One exams. For a study break, Med School Bestie took Pao Pao out for a dip in the pool.

Pao doesn't like the water much. It takes a friendly face, a life jacket, and a box full of hot dog pieces to entice him in:

He's pretty good about going in to get his ankles wet. But then he sort of stalls:

There's a lot of coaxing to get him off that first step:

Once he's in (I picked him up by the handle and stuck him in a couple of times), he makes a beeline to the hot dog:

And hightails it back to the relative safety of the steps:

Asking him to commit to a longer stay in the pool usually means a bit of frantic splashing:

 But we give him water and pee breaks so he doesn't tire out:

All the hot dogs and splashing and encouragement attracted the attention of Pao's brothers:

 Mu Shu wanted the hot dog bits badly, but not enough to brave the water:

 

 Won Ton gamely stood on the first step to get a treat, but no way was he going in farther than that!:

After I took off Pao's life jacket, he was still trying to get at those treats. See him extending his paw, trying to pull that hot dog in closer?:

"I can *almost* taste it!," he seems to be thinking:

If we keep up the gentle encouragement, by the end of the summer, Pao probably will be jumping into the pool like one of those competitive dock-diving dogs:

But first, I'm going to have to buy a lot of hot dogs.