Matzo Brei Wins Again

As we have previously established, I was not always a fan of matzo brei.  http://cookwithlaynie.blogspot.com/2009/04/just-little.html

Since becoming a fan I have usually made matzo brei during Passover. I kept meaning to make it this week, but as you know this has not been an ordinary Passover, just as it hasn’t been an ordinary time in a whole lot of other respects.  

Yesterday I thought, “If you don’t make matzo brei today or tomorrow, Pesach (Passover) will be over.” I decided to make it today. Found a few recipes online yesterday, and this was my favorite. https://norecipes.com/lemon-ricotta-matzo-brei-recipe/

I had some orange peel and so I made a half-lemon zest, half-orange zest mixture, and since I didn't have ricotta I used goat cheese. (This second substitution was actually a bonus, since half the time the goat cheese log goes bad before I can eat the whole thing.)

Maybe it was the pandemic. Maybe it happened because it was the last day of Passover. Whatever the cause, the fact is that I poured the egg mixture in the pan, turned the burner so it was medium-low, congratulated myself on getting the whole shebang organized—and then realized that I had forgotten to add the cheese. Yikes! What to do?

I thought, “Fine! I'll add the cheese now.” The bottom had started to brown, so there was no turning back. But what about turning the brei? After scattering the goat cheese over the top, I folded the brei like an omelet. I then let it cook for a few minutes, and flipped it. 

After a few minutes I had another look. It had browned on both sides. It was yummy. Someday soon I will make it and add the cheese at the suggested time. Maybe it will be ricotta. But I still have a lot of goat cheese. Stay tuned.

©2020 Laynie Tzena. All Rights Reserved.

Pescado De Casa, or The Case of the Missing Lemon

Well, after talking to someone at the fish counter the other night who asked what I was going to do with that rockfish, the plan was to (finally, some would say) write you about Joyce Goldstein’s wonderful “Rockfish in Indonesian Sauce.” But as luck would have it, I was out of a key ingredient: lemon.  

I did have a Murcott mandarin orange and some spring onions from the market—and a couple of artichokes.  I consulted the online oracles for rockfish and oranges and found a great website called “Galley Pirate.” Their recipes are for sailors and others who find themselves on the open seas. I may not be on the open seas (though I do love the water), but I know a great recipe when I see one. I adapted it to the ingredients on hand and presto!  Dinner.

Rockfish a l’Orange (adapted from Galley Pirates; Serves 2)

1 lb. rockfish (about three pieces)
½ tablespoon butter
1½ teaspoons olive oil
1 tablespoon minced spring onion
½ teaspoon dried tarragon
¼ teaspoon salt
Mixed peppercorns
1 mandarin orange (or navel orange)
¼ cup white wine or water (if using water, add dried orange peel or a spritz of orange oil)
Pinch dried orange peel(optional)
½ teaspoon flour
Tarragon for garnish

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Mince the shallots. Juice and zest the mandarin or orange.

In a large skillet, sauté shallots and orange zest in the butter and olive oil. Add the orange juice, water, dried orange peel, dried tarragon, salt and pepper to the pan and sauté for a minute or two longer.

Prepare a serving platter. Wipe a baking dish with oil, add rockfish. Pour the green onion-orange mixture over the fish and place the pan in the oven.

Cook about 20 minutes (test after fifteen minutes; when you can flake the fish easily with a fork, it’s done. Move the rockfish from the baking dish onto the serving platter. Pour the remaining sauce from the baking dish back into the skillet. Sprinkle the flour into the pan and stir until thickened. Add more water if it becomes too thick. Pour the sauce over the fish fillets on the serving platter, top with tarragon, and enjoy!

“What about the artichoke?”

I steamed it. It took 45 minutes, and I am henceforth forswearing large artichokes, outside of restaurants. But the sauce was heaven on those leaves.

©2019 Laynie Tzena.  All Rights Reserved.

What's For Breakfast, Mom?

When you’re a kid, it’s easy. Mom (or Dad) makes breakfast, for most people. But once you’re out of the house? Or say Mom and Dad, rushing to work or sleeping because they work at night, can’t make breakfast for you—what then? Or say you’re little Ruth Reichl and you know Mom’s concoctions could be dangerous? What do you do?

You might reach for your favorite bowl, a nearby box of cereal, and pour some milk over it. Or you might improvise. Once you’re grown, you can improvise in all kinds of ways. You can eat whatever you want and call it breakfast.

Heresy, you say? Actually, it’s tradition. There have been all kinds of breakfasts over the years. The word we use today didn’t even come into use until the 15^th century, says Wikipedia. And if you enjoy eggs at dinnertime you’ve got plenty of historical company, since that’s when the first meal of the day was eaten, for Brits, until the 13^th century. But ancient Egyptian working people ate in the morning—and what a meal!  Beer, bread, and onions.

You say you can’t eat anything in the morning? Call yourself an “Aquinian” (wait till your friends hear that one). Thomas Aquinas is said to have viewed eating early as a sin, suggestive of other “appetites”—like drinking. Better to have an empty stomach and pure thoughts.

Might have worked for him, but not me. If I don’t have breakfast I get crabby. And just like you, I’m busy and don’t have time for anything elaborate. I often have “Laynie’s Morning Miracle” http://cookwithlaynie.blogspot.com/2009/04/its-all-about-ed-and-mollie.html on hand to heat up; when I don’t, I reach for some muesli, soaking it while I get dressed. I’d found some in the store, but they were either too sweet (I lived for Sugar Frosted Flakes in my shorter days, but these days I’d rather have that sugar in pastry or gelato, thanks) or just not all that interesting. So one fine day I made this, and I’ve been creating variations on it ever since. I pull the latest version out of the fridge and while I’m getting dressed it is communing with some milk. 

Don’t tell Thomas.

“Mama’s Muesli” (About four 1/3 cup servings)

1 cup rolled oats (I use the thinner ones; if you want to use thick ones, soak the muesli overnight)

1/3 cup rye flakes

2 tablespoons sliced almonds, toasted

1 tablespoon toasted pistachios, chopped

1 tablespoon sunflower seeds

1 teaspoon sesame seeds, toasted (required; they give this an amazing flavor)

½ teaspoon ground hempseeds

¼ teaspoon flaxseeds

¼ teaspoon dark flaxseed meal (you can also just choose one, but I like the texture of the whole ones so I use both)
2 dates (I love Cire from Flying Disc Ranch [at the Ferry Plaza market on Saturdays and maybe at the Berkeley one at Shattuck and Vine on Thursdays], black dates, when Michael has them at the Crocker Galleria market, and also his dry dates like Kway and Thorry; you can also use Deglet or Medjool)

1 tablespoon raisins (I like Thompson)
1 heaping teaspoon cinnamon 

Pinch of salt

Combine everything in a bowl, and keep in a container in the fridge. When you're ready for breakfast, scoop 1/3 cup out of the container and put it in your favorite bowl, then pour milk over it (I like reduced fat milk—not as thin as skim—but almond might be great, too), do something for a few minutes while everybody gets acquainted, and enjoy!

“So many ingredients!  Who has time in the morning?”

Ah, but that’s the beauty of it. That’s not when you make this. You make it when you come home from work or from a show or you’ve got something on your mind and you’re not tired enough to go to sleep yet.* Consider it a gift you give yourself for the morning.

*If you don’t want to make everything in one night, make it a two-step process. Maybe tonight you chop the dates, toast the nuts and seeds, and put all of the above in a bag with the raisins. Tomorrow night you add the flaxseed meal, oats, and rye flakes, stir, put a scoop in a jar with milk of your choice to cover, and presto! When you wake up, breakfast is served.

P. S. This is so much simpler than those problems you’ve been solving all day long. Plus, nobody’s looking over your shoulder. Why not put on some music and make yourself something delicious? 

 ©2018 Laynie Tzena. All Rights Reserved.

What a Little Minneola Can Do: Grace Notes

Part Four:  In Which Zingerman's Makes Its Long-Awaited Appearance

Note:  Once upon a time, there was a post called "What a Little Minneola Can Do."  It was more than one or two sentences in length, and rumor had it* that some people don't like to read.  Thus became "What a Little Minneola Can Do:  A Hymn in Three Parts."  This worked out fine, except for the fact that the section with Zingerman's was left on the cutting-room floor (by accident; nobody ever leaves anything from Zingerman's on purpose).

To find the earlier parts, just look on the right side of the blog, and select, yes, "minneolas."  Enjoy!

We now bring you the rest of the story.

Years ago I was lucky enough to live in Ann Arbor, home of the beloved Fleetwood Diner and Zingerman's.

Don't get me started on Zingerman's. I will just say two things:

1. They used to have a policy where, if you tasted a cheese anywhere in the world, they would get it for you.

2. Ari, the genius who created the place, put on vinegar tastings. Vinegar tastings. So I learned about all kinds of vinegar, and I learned the two-to-one rule (two parts oil, one part acid) I still use [though now people say three parts oil because they are sissies], and a bit of good mustard to bind it. (Dijon is great, but so is stone-ground. Fallot makes a great basil mustard. Creole is wonderful.)

Wait. Did you say 'acid' just now?

Acid. That's the function of the other parent ingredient in a vinaigrette. Once you think of it that way, you realize how many possibilities there are: Lemon juice, lime juice, Meyer lemon juice, orange juice. Just remember if you use Meyer lemon or orange you'll have to find a way to amp up the tartness.

Back to vinegar: Don't cut corners here. Get really good ones--a good cabernet vinegar, like Kimberley, a real balsamic, a good apple cider vinegar, a sherry vinegar. They last a long time.

Ditto with oils. True, their shelf life is shorter than vinegars, but if you buy the ones you love you use them up before they turn. Walnut oil is heaven. So is sesame oil. Peanut oil is good for some things. There are many, many oils on the market. Here's what's in my kitchen: Olive oil, canola oil, safflower oil (when either the canola or safflower runs out, I won't replace it since I use them interchangeably), walnut oil, raw sesame oil, toasted sesame oil, and peanut oil.

What's that you say? You just need olive oil. And it's really good for you.

Yes, olive oil is wonderful. I use it all the time. But do you eat olives with everything? You do? Wow. Well, for those who don't, keep a canola or safflower oil on hand when you want something more unobtrusive.

Which is why those bottled dressings are so odd. What relation do they have to what's going into the salad? That's how you choose the dressing! So make your own. Save money, and really taste your food.

*Good news, writers and readers!  This rumor has since been disproven.  People actually love to read.  Always have and, God willing, always will.

©2017 Laynie Tzena.  All Rights Reserved.

Hidden Treasure

Remember that guy you met, who didn’t make your heart go pitter-patter until you spent some time together, and then suddenly you saw all kinds of qualities in him?

That same experience can happen when you’re cooking.  As we observed with a less-than-glamorous orange way back when (http://cookwithlaynie.blogspot.com/2010/05/what-little-minneola-can-do-hymn-in.html), all is not lost when our fruited friend isn’t what we were expecting. 

To wit:  What do you do when that pear that looked so pretty at the market proves to be a little mealy? 

Pop it in a ramekin (you can slice it first, if you want), pour a little orange flower water over it--

“Orange what?”

Orange flower water.   https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Orange_flower_water

--then add some cinnamon, a bit of vanilla, cover the ramekin with foil and heat at 350 degrees for 15-20 minutes.

 Try it with end-of-season peaches, too.  Simply wonderful.  Just like some people we could mention.

©2016 Laynie Tzena.

 

A Few Dates Later

Dear Love at First Bite:

Well, Excuse Me, Ms. Oh-So-Nouveau at Passover Time, but I thought charoses was supposed to remind us of, you know, slavery, building pyramids with bricks (that's what the apples are for--and yes, I know some people use dates.  [Sigh.]) and mortar (that would be the walnuts) and the blood, sweat, and tears that went into doing that work (that's what the wine is for), but what do I know?  I guess out on the West Coast anything goes--but strawberries and blueberry jam?  Really?  Sounds like fruit compote or pie filling to me.

Fan of Tradition

Dear FOT:

Thank you for sharing.  The great thing about charoset, which is how it's often spelled these days, is that you can put in pretty much whatever you want, especially in my kitchen. You do need something to symbolize the bricks (that's what the strawberries were doing) and mortar (that's why the banana was involved) and something to bind them together (that's where the blueberry jam came in), preferably with a little juice to symbolize the blood, sweat and tears you mentioned.  (Saw them years ago at the Fillmore East.  Awesome.)

Should I tell you about the amazing charoset at Rosa Mexicano the other night with coconut?  (Also starring almonds, dates, tangerines, pomegranate seeds, and rose apples.)   Maybe not.

Anyhoo, below is another newbie you might appreciate. 

Citrus, Walnut, and Oh, Those Dates! Charoset:

A couple of soft dates (like Medjool), pits removed
A few firmer dates (like Deglet Noor and dried Yellowtail Medjool), pits removed
3 organic kumquats (sweet rind, tart center)
1 large and three small organic sweet kumquats
A healthy handful of walnuts, chopped
1/4 organic lemon
Ground ginger
Cinnamon

Chop dates and, if you can, mash the Medjool.  Slice the kumquats, rind and all, and remove the seeds, chop into small pieces, reserving the liquid.  Combine everything (yes, that includes the kumquat juice) in a bowl and squeeze the lemon over the mixture.  Grate the lemon zest into the bowl.  Toast the walnuts and add them, then sprinkle the ground ginger and cinnamon over all and mix.  

Enjoy!

Oh, and FOT:  Just between you, me, and the NSA:  Anytime you combine fruit with nuts and some kind of liquid, you are dancing in the neighborhood of fruit compote.  And would this be yummy inside the right pie?  Sure.  But not this week.  So here's a piece of matzo.  Try it.
©2014, 2015 Laynie Tzena. 

Old and New Friends

Make new friends, but keep the old.

One is silver, and the other, gold.

--Author unknown

The lure of the distant and difficult

is deceptive.  The great opportunity

is where you are.

--John Burroughs

Hello, brown bowl.  Brown, shimmery bowl.  You might as well wear a tag saying, "Stoneware."  You've been sitting patiently under the beige bowl with the blue rim and above the blue-and-white one that rarely sees the light of day, even though it, too, is very pretty.

It's true.  I reach for the Pyrex most of the time.  Like to see what I'm doing.  But today, making a brand-new charoset with strawberries in it, I reached for you.

* * *

Isn't it always the way?  We reach for the familiar or try to get that person we think is swell to see, finally see that we are alive.

"Hi!" we say.  "It's me!", all but jumping up and down like puppies.

But one day, for some unknown reason, we wake up and say, "Hey!  What about the brown bowl?  Let's try that."

And it's perfect, and claims its place in our life.

We do, nonetheless, keep our friends.  We just expand the circle a bit.  It's a big world, you know.

Have some charoset.  Put it in a bowl you wouldn't ordinarily use.  It's Passover, after all.  Escape from the narrow places.  Try some new things.

Strawberry-Blueberry-Banana-Pecan Charoset:

Half a dozen organic strawberries
Half a banana, or more, to taste
Handful of organic pecans*
1-2 teaspoons of that Reddington Ridge Farm wild blueberry jam 
your friend brought back from Maine** (Thanks, Helen!)
A couple shakes of cinnamon
Pinch of salt
Squeeze of lemon (optional)

Toast the pecans and chop them.  Slice the fruit or, if you want to make cleanup super-easy, use scissors.  Combine everything but the blueberry jam in that beautiful and so rarely used bowl, then add jam to taste.  Sprinkle with cinnamon.  If you want to make it it a bit less sweet (or just like how lemon brings flavors together), squeeze a quarter of a lemon over the charoset and stir it again.

Enjoy!

*If you use the little pieces of pecan lounging towards the bottom of the bag, you'll be right in line with today's program, as they're not as snazzy-looking as the whole ones.  Plus, you'll have a lot less chopping to do.

**"Do you have any extra jam?"

Yes.  How soon can you get here?

"Is the blueberry jam Kosher for Passover?"

No, it is not.  If you want to leave out the jam, just add some more banana, a couple of dates, or some honey.

©2014, 2015 Laynie Tzena.

It's Not Me, Cupcake, It's You

When I moved to San Francisco my friend Heather said, “Muffins on every corner. God forbid they should put in a hardware store.”

In recent years, as you may have noticed, it has been all about cupcakes. Now, I'm in favor of just about every combination of flour and sugar. But I got tired of cupcakes quite a while ago.

And now for some very good news: A little birdie says America has finally had enough cupcakes, and we're about to see really good bagels on every corner.

Sorry, no. But almost as good—and on a day like today, maybe even better: we are apparently about to get a whole lot more ice cream sandwiches. Pinch me. http://www.entrepreneur.com/slideshow/229839?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+entrepreneur%2Flatest+%28Entrepreneur%29#7

©2013 Laynie Tzena.

It's the Little Things In Life

You love sardines? Great. Me, too. 

What’s that? Can’t abide ’em?  No problem. There is never a shortage of other things to read. Come back in time for dessert.

You say the coast is clear? It’s just us sardine-lovers now? Okay, great. You have to try this.   

Yesterday I was walking down the street, or maybe up the street, and realized that sardines + kalamata olive oil + borage (no, not borax, silly, borage, the herb) = pate from heaven. I looked online today. Found a couple of interesting entries. Here’s my version:

Pate A la Sunday

1 can water-packed sardines
Pinch fresh borage (or use oregano)
Pinch Italian (flat-leaf) parsley
1 tablespoon walnuts
1 green onion
1 lemon or 2 Meyer lemons
2 tablespoons Amoretti kalamata olive oil (or use your favorite olive oil and chop a couple of kalamata olives and add them)
1 tablespoon butter
Pinch smoked paprika (or use cracked red pepper and regular paprika)
Pinch salt
Pinch freshly-ground black pepper

Toast walnuts and chop them. Mince onion. Juice and zest lemon or Meyer lemons. Place all ingredients in food processor. Taste and correct seasonings as necessary.

Spread on some whole-grain bread, on a cracker, on some leftover matzo, on your sweetheart’s arm--it is straight heaven. (No, not your sweetheart’s arm, the pate. Yes, I know your sweetheart is wonderful.  Well, I don’t know for sure, but I’ll take your word for it.)

©2013 Laynie Tzena.

In Other News, Toothpaste Is Applied With A Brush

My new dental floss comes with an instruction manual. Okay, it’s just one page. Okay, it’s a little piece of paper that sits behind the floss in the container. It says, “Tips for use.” Maybe they hide it behind the floss in the package so it doesn’t scare you.  “Uh-oh. This could be difficult.”

But I thought I’d better read it. I usually take that approach. I read people’s t-shirts while we’re waiting in line. 

The one-page, “We’re too cheap to pay to print something impressive” manual—which is the way my mother pronounces the name of the guy they just hired—

“No, Mom, you don’t say, ‘Man-u-el.’ It’s ‘Mon-well,’” I explain.

 “Uh-huh."

Anyway, there’s a little picture of someone playing  “Cat’s Cradle,” then a closeup of somebody’s teeth, which someone else is giving a thumbs-up—

What? That’s how you floss? You thread the ribbon between your teeth? And all this time I’ve been winding it around the doorknob and hoping for the best. (On the plus side, we now have a cat. He took a look and said, “Hey, my kind of people!”)

The piece of paper is not done talking. The next thing it says is, “Why Should I Floss?” 

Now, here’s where I got stuck. No, not stuck on what those words mean in English. My reading skills are right up there with yours (or else you’re not reading this, so who needs you?). But the question stopped me.

Because last I checked, no one makes you buy dental floss. No one comes up to you while you’re reading about how embarrassed Gwyneth Paltrow was that when she went au naturel under that dress there was just a little too much nature showing and says, “You don’t _have_ to buy the floss, of course, but Freddie here thinks it would be a really good idea.”

No. It’s just there, in its various forms, including the ones without mint that people buy for some reason. If you’re going to have to floss, you might as well have some flavor, is my view. 

It says, “You want me? Fine. You don’t want me.  Fine.” If the floss were human, while you looked it over it would be doing its nails.

So wouldn’t you think that by the time you're—you should excuse the expression—forking over your seventeen dollars for the small package, you would have made the commitment? You would be among those who didn’t need to be told why flossing might be a good idea?

Unless it’s like those other products they assume one person is buying for another?

Life is so confusing these days.

©2013 Laynie Tzena.

Hold That Thought, Where Exactly Is W. Kamau Bell When You Need Him, or GOAPS Has It All

Today I made an excursion to GOAPS (“Grooviest Of All Possible Stores”). Everything went smoothly, and I got out of there quickly, with no annoyance at anything whatsoever.  It was sheer bliss, and I am now a better person.  I might even be groovy.

Of course, I had help.  I was trying to decide whether the organic almond butter was really worth it (“How thick is the almond shell?” I wondered, forgetting that RadioLab program on “Choices” I had listened to yesterday, not to mention the shorthand I’d learned years ago from my friend Bob:  “Analysis, paralysis”). While I was considering the alternatives so I would make the perfect choice, a crisply dressed, slender man maybe ten years my senior (I am, like Jack Benny, “39-and-holding”) pushed my cart away.

This proved not to be a red herring (which GOAPS wouldn't have any truck with, anyway), as he went on to tell me why television is horrible (I told him I didn’t watch much), and also that the Federal Reserve is evil and the Kennedys had been trying to do something about it and that’s why—never mind.  

I said that I was sorry to hear that.  He then wanted me to forget the almond butter and 
buy hazelnut.

“Okay,” he said. “Ignore the studies.”

“My only problem is that you keep telling me what to think,” I said. (By “think,” I meant, 
“think about politics.”  I don't have a whole lot of opinions about nut butter.  I'm in favor of
all of them.)

“I'm all ears,” he said.

Since nothing we said was likely to help the Kennedy brothers, rest in peace, or have much of an impact on the Federal Reserve, I said I’d pass.  

He was not pleased.  He was soon counseling someone else about the best choices for her. 

W. Kamau Bell told  a rather eager audience member at a recent New Parish show, “I'm going to put you on ‘Pause.’”   

Perfect! Except that I just remembered it now.  So I just said, “I think we can agree on TV” (and instantly made a decision to watch more of it).  

After he had moved on I decided to go with the regular almond butter, which the GOAPS representative had told me was their best seller, assuring me that GOAPS wouldn’t ever carry anything sprayed into oblivion or otherwise icky. 

At least, I think that’s what he said.  So far, so good: it tastes fine, and I haven’t grown another arm—though some days that might come in handy.

©2013, 2014, 2015 Laynie Tzena. 

Dessert Is Important, or What Have You Done For Those People--Right Over There--Lately?

“What’s for dessert?” I asked the teacher at the ethnic foods cooking class.

“We won’t be making dessert,” she said.  “I don’t care for it.”

* * *

Someone once asked Miss Manners what to do when people are rude, which were the best words to use?  Miss Manners wasn’t biting.  She said that actually, you shouldn’t say anything. The person who corrects another person is rude.

“But people need to know what they’re doing wrong!  They need to know what people are thinking!” said the person, wondering if perhaps Miss Manners had lost her touch.

Au contraire, said Miss Manners.  “You really don’t want to know what people are thinking.  Because many times they are thinking you are a fool.”

* * *

One of the tellers at the bank told me that this year she had given up Facebook, Twitter, and something else I’ve forgotten for Lent.  45 days.  I know how she feels.  I’m off chametz (wheat, oats, rye, barley, and spelt) for Passover.  I’ve been observing that aspect of the holiday for a few years now.  The first year, I said to a rabbi I know, “I’ve been thinking, ‘Well, I won’t really miss it, I don’t eat that much bread anyway.’  But then I thought, ‘Maybe you’re supposed to notice it.’”

She laughed.  “Good, Laynie,” she said.

* * * 

Somewhere I read that it’s a good idea to do a thing or two each day that you don’t want to do, just for exercise.  (For example, that cooking teacher—never mind.) 

So, right now, I'd like to go to bed.  But I promised Jason, who is also off chametz this week, that I would give him a salad recipe.  (Matzo has an interesting effect on the digestive tract.)  And I promised Beth, who gave me a ride home from a party even though it was absolutely not on her way, that I would give her this very recipe before blood orange season was over, and Cindy, who brought Meyer lemons from her own tree to my singing class, that I would give her a version of this recipe without blood oranges, which her partner hates. 

Do It Anyway, Honey, Salad (serves 2—maybe you and that cutie?)

For the salad:

A healthy handful of baby Swiss chard
   (or cut up regular Swiss chard into small pieces)
A purple mustard green or two, including the stem, which is just heaven
   —watery, like celery, but with a kick
Fennel top (usually called the “frond”—looks like dill)
One organic blood orange (unless you are Cindy, in which case, a navel)
One organic Meyer lemon

For the dressing:

2-3 teaspoons extra virgin olive oil
1 teaspoon Amoretti pomegranate balsamic vinegar*, or a good aged balsamic
Smidgen of dijon mustard**
Pinch of your favorite salt (try the Himalayan one)
Freshly-ground black pepper (not too much; the mustard green takes that role here)

Rinse greens and fennel frond.  Mince the fennel frond, and slice the Meyer lemon very thinly—you don’t need to peel it—and remove the pits.  Peel the blood orange or navel as you would to section it, reserving the peel to dry later (for the item we’re not talking about this week but next week you can find by searching on the blog for “Laynie’s Morning Miracle.” Shhh.  Don't tell anyone.  Okay.). 

Put that smidgen of lemon zest and/or mustard in the bowl, followed by the olive oil and vinegar.  Add seasonings and whisk together, then add the greens, then the blood orange, minced fennel frond, and Meyer lemon.

You’re welcome.

And now I am going to bed.

*If you are off vinegar for Passover (“Pesach”), use fresh lemon juice and an extra blood orange.
** Dijon is made with wine, but if you want to be on the safe side, substitute lemon zest for mustard during Pesach.

©2013, 2014 Laynie Tzena.

A Whole Lotta Butter, or My Tortillas Come With A Certificate

“I just don’t eat anything my sister-in-law makes,” she said, after explaining that said relative goes through a pound or two of butter a day. 

The conversation had turned to allergies. She had her share, and she shared them with me. I was trying to squeeze my vitamins into my bag when she went on to tell me that when bugs are fed GMO corn tortillas, they break apart.

I think she meant the bugs, not the tortillas. Something about the B vitamins in them. I thought B vitamins were good for you. Life is so confusing these days.*

Minutes later at the shop around the corner someone told me she was making a super-duper Mac n’ Cheese with three cheeses.

I looked at her. Not related, I think, but just in case: Don’t invite these two to the same party.

*Right. I’m not a GMO fan, either, for a whole lot of reasons. But I have a sister and once had a sister-in-law, too, and there was something about the gleam in her eye when she said she was going to avoid every disease in the family--

Oops. Time for the Fancy Food Show. Good thing I’ve got my vitamins.

©2013 Laynie Tzena.

Hide-and-Seek in the Facebook Universe

Now Facebook allows you to hide what you write, hide when you’re online—soon they’ll have an app for how to hide your existence in toto. Let’s take this to its logical conclusion, shall we?

 

As we enter the Facebook Universe (“F. U.,” for short), Scott has a discussion going on his wall regarding a political matter he doesn’t know much about, really, but it is Friday afternoon and he’s bored at work. 

Scott has a lot of friends (most of whom he would not recognize on the street; they are mainly friends⁷ (friends of friends of friends of friends of friends of friends of friends).

But Scott has a few “friend-friends” (actual friends, as opposed to extended friends, one of the ever-increasing categories F. U. provides; enterprising types are preparing business cards, as we speak, to organize the complex F. U. for you). Among these friends are:

a. Debbie, who has been hiding from Joe because they dated for a while and
then, well--

b. Bob, who has been hiding from Debbie because he wanted to date her while she was dating Joe and assumed once things went south with Joe she would notice him and, well--

We now join the discussion in progress.

Debbie says a few words, which everyone but Joe can see.

Scott responds to Debbie, but calls her “Honey” instead of using her name.
 

Joe chimes in and, not knowing Debbie is present, makes a remark in response to something Scott said that references her in a negative way.

Theme music from “The Twilight Zone” http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Twilight_Zone begins to play.

Bob sees what Debbie wrote to Scott and takes the opportunity to add his two cents about Debbie. His remarks are invisible to her.

Debbie says some things in response to the partial conversation she can see.

Bob comes back with another zinger.

Scott tries to find a way to respond to the exchange.

Both Debbie and Bob are offended.

The remaining people who have tuned in grab a beer and wait to see what happens next. Or they decide maybe they’ve had too many beers and that’s why this all looks so bizarre.

Scott walks into the kitchen and says to his wife, “People on Facebook are nuts.” She says, “Shhh. I’m watching Harvey.” http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0042546/

Folks, don’t let this happen to you. No matter how easy Facebook seems to
make it.

©2012 Laynie Tzena.