On Peas and the Tiny Nature

I want to extol the virtues of frozen baby peas. They are perfect, wonderful with rice, laced with a bit of lemon and parsley, or better yet -- cilantro.

I think I could eat peas every day.

The tinier the better. Isn't it interesting how in the world of food, diminutive is better. We in America extol the virutes of the Idaho Potato -- huge and oblong, but in Sweden the tiny red potatis are boiled and then peeled individually at the plate: an upside down fork in the globe, then -- index finger and thumb grasping the blade of a butter knife, and you gently peel off the skins. They call those huge Russets favored here gris potatis (pig potatoes).

In Thailand, the garlic is smaller and overwhelmingly flavorful and piquant, the basil stumpy and fragrently purple, the mouse shit chilis ovewhelming and wildly hot. The heat in that region doesn't afford waste: the plant is big enough, and the esters that we call flavor are off the charts-- the better to protect against the sun and the insects.

In cooking, grand is often muddled, while petite delivers the difference in flavor that makes for lacivious eating.

Aching Bones

I started to ache when I hit 40, I think. Now, it's a regular thing, and I take celebrex despite the warnings about future heart problems just to feel better. I've had several surgeries, a knee cruciate ligament repair, a broken ankle repair with pins -- but even in my hands I feel pain.

It's not really that bad -- it's liveable. Sometimes, when the weather is coming in it hurts in my knee more than I would prefer, but usually it's liveable. It reminds me that I'm alive, that I've lived, that I am still here. We don't stay very long, do we? We break down before we go. That's the way it is, and it's good to get that.

I find gin helps.

Giving Tavian a smooch

Giving Tavian a smooch, originally uploaded by wickenden.

Ayla gives Tavian a kiss. He's only two days old here.