Caviar

"There is more simplicity in the man who eats caviar on impulse

than in the man who eats Grape-Nuts on principle."

-- G.K. Chesterton

Tobiko (flying fish roe) 12-30-14

"Under cover of the clinking water goblets and silverware and bone china,

I paved my plate with chicken slices.

Then I covered the chicken slices with caviar thickly as if

I were spreading peanut butter on a piece of bread.

Then I picked up the chicken slices in my fingers one by one, 

rolled them so the caviar wouldn't ooze off and ate them."

-- Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar

My husband gave me bacon jerky and a few jars of caviar for Christmas.

I gave him a few bottles of whiskey and some boxes of shotgun shells.

Tobiko caviar on mother-of-pearl caviar spoon 12-30-14

It wasn't exactly The Gift of the Magi, but in our cockeyed way, it was a touching gift exchange nonetheless.

Anyway, yesterday I cracked open the little jar of red flying fish roe, called Tobiko, for my lunch.

I ate the itty-bitty, glistening, jewel-like eggs all alone by myself on crisp griddled toast spread with a tiny smear of wasabi.

I am neither a caviar expert nor a caviar snob.

I just happen to like it. Not all of it. I have my favorites. I prefer the milder stuff, and the tinier the eggs better. I like them to "pop" when I eat them.

The big fat soft ones? Nope.

Basically I take the same approach with caviar that I do with wine. It's a simple formula:  if it tastes good, I'll eat it. If it doesn't, I won't.

And this happened to taste very good.

Maybe today I'll try it with a tiny bit of jerky and see if it makes good bacon and eggs.

Rolling My Own

"You won't accept a guy's tongue in your mouth,

and your'e going to eat that?"

-- "John Bender," The Breakfast Club

Sushi roll 7-23-14

"'Heaven has no taste.'

'Now ...'

'And not one single sushi restaurant.'

A look of pain crossed the angel's suddenly very serious face."

-- Terry Pratchett, 

Good Omens: The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch

Sushi roll 7-23-14

Sometimes "cheap" sushi means nasty sushi.

But in my case, cheap sushi means pretty damn good sushi.

I made myself sushi rolls for supper last night.

I had some nice fresh ingredients and was feeling adventurous.

My home-rolled sushi isn't perfect, but it tastes delicious.

It's also super easy on the wallet -- the fish was free (Leo caught it), the veggies were free (I grew them in the garden). A single sheet of nori and about a cup of rice costs mere pennies.

Go ahead. Eat all you want. I'll make more.

A Grown Up Lunch Date

"I'm not making art, I'm making sushi."

-- Masaharu Morimoto

Play Doh sushi 5-11-14

My, how times have changed.

When my son Sam was little, a "lunch date" usually meant a fast food kids' meal and a trip to the toy store.

Now that he's all grown up (he turns 19 tomorrow), Sam's tastes have matured, a lot. Yesterday, we had a perfectly lovely lunch date at a sushi restaurant (his choice), followed by some upscale shopping to replenish his work/school wardrobe.

He wears a suit and tie to work and classes nearly every day, so he needed some new dress shirts and shoes.

Way back when, he'd have balked at the merest mention of dreaded clothes shopping. Now he shops like a pro. He knows exactly what he needs, goes in and gets it, has membership benefits and coupons that slice the final tally in half and then shave 40 percent off that. I just tag along, try to keep up, stand back and watch him work, and help carry his shopping bags.

As for the sushi, of course there was a day when, like most little kids, he preferred hamburgers and french fries with a toy in the box. He wouldn't have touched raw fish with a pair of ten foot chopsticks. Now, he gets positively giddy over the prospect of yellowtail sashimi and a rainbow roll.

It's Mother's Day today, and while I do sometimes miss the days when my boys were little and wish I could pick them up and hold them one more time, I also love where they both are now -- young men, confident and capable and becoming who they're meant to be. Naturally, with growth comes change, changes in what they do, what they like, and even what they eat.

I'm not opposed to change. I'm intrigued by it, actually. And I hope I'm the kind of mother who'll never interfere with either of my boys "becoming." I'd much rather tag along as an observer and watch the fascinating metamorphosis unfold.

God forbid I should ever stand in the way of such a good and beautiful thing.