When NovySan posted a description of our Mardi Gras dinner to Twitter, Slackmistress asked for pictures.

It was, alas, too late.

So, in lieu of pictures, here’s the recipe (more or less) for spiced date and pecan-crusted catfish and balsamic greens.

Start with about a cup of pecan halves. Add three dates (sans pits – does that sound like romantic advice?), two or three cloves of garlic, a dash of salt, and a generous measure of garam masala. (I have two varieties in the cupboard. One contains more cumin, the other more black pepper. For sweeter dishes, like this one, I use the one with more pepper. If you don’t have garam masala, it’s a mix of sweet and savory spices – pepper, cumin, coriander, cinnamon, clove and cardamom, maybe some saffron or nutmeg. It’s like a shortcut to yummy.) Pulse in a food processor until everything’s mixed – but try not to completely pulverize the pecans. Spread the mixture in a baking dish – mine’s 11X7. You might want to drizzle a little olive oil in there first, just to make sure nothing sticks. Lay two catfish fillets on top of the pecan mixture, then flip them over a couple of times until they’re completely coated. You might need to dig some of the mix out from under them and ladle it over the top. I sprinkled them with some peppercorns, fennel seed and a little more salt. (I’d stick with black pepper – I used a peppercorn mix, and we discovered the white pepper was still a bit crunchy at the end.) Bake in a 350 degree oven for about 30 minutes, covered.

As for the greens, they were cooked over a medium flame in a cast iron skillet with olive oil, balsamic vinegar and a bit of salt, until they wilted. These were collards, but any greens you like would do. (And actually, I think the collards do better to be slow cooked – they don’t have a lot of moisture in them, so they don’t soften in the pan the way chard or spinach will.)

Tags: Catfish, Chia Cooks, Pictures Which I Did Not Take

Because I can’t.

I’ve decided that we don’t have midlife crises – what we have are cycles of reinvention. It’s just that when one of them happens to come within ten years of your fortieth birthday, it’s called a “midlife crisis.”

Dye your hair pink when you’re 20? No problem.

Buy a motorcycle at 25? Hey, you’re young, that’s no problem.

Take up salsa dancing at 35? Oh, you’re trying to hold onto your youth, aren’t you? But you’re not that old – it’s not really a problem.

Dye your hair pink when you’re 40? Don’t you know you’re not 20 anymore?

Buy a motorcycle at 50? Next thing you know, you’ll be filing for divorce and making a fool of yourself in singles’ bars.

Take up salsa dancing at 65? I think it’s great you have something to do in your old age!

And that, children, is my rant for the day. Now go buy yourself a motorcycle and ride it to your salsa class. I, for one, applaud you for living, when so many people around you are stagnating instead.

Tags: Did I Mention You Look Fabulous Today?, I Just Had to Get That Off My Chest, Rant

I don’t like to do things that I don’t already know how to do.

Part of the reason, of course, is a fear of looking ridiculous trying to do something I’m not good at. (Particularly if I’m trying to do it in front of a bunch of teens who hate me because I’m not good at it, but that’s another story.)

Part of it, though – and this is something I’ve just recently realized – is a feeling that that thing I don’t know how to do, but that other people do? Is something that other people do.

“I’d like to knit, but I don’t know how. That’s something that other people do.”

“I’d like to dance, but I don’t know how. That’s something that other people do.”

“I’d like to speak French, but I don’t know how. That’s something that other people do.”

(Not that I didn’t know I could learn to do these things. I did take French in high school, and I’ve spent nearly six years learning to bellydance. But in both those cases, I didn’t start learning until I found someone who already knew how to do this to teach me. And then I still had to get over the emotional hurdle of letting someone who did know what they were doing see me doing it badly – which is part of the reason I set out to teach myself to knit.)

Gardening is one of those things I’ve always wanted to do, but I grew up in a place where almost nothing would grow, and from there I moved into a series of apartments (and killed a fair number of houseplants), and somewhere along the line, gardening became something that other people do.

This weekend, though, I finally got tired of saying that I’d like to start working on the flowerbeds in front and planning the gardens in back. I spent two and a half hours yesterday tearing out a gardenia that NovySan’s allergic to (and really, Chia? Did you need to leave a bush that makes your husband sneeze right outside your bedroom window for seven or eight years just because it came with the house?), pulling out grass that’s invaded the rosebed, and trimming the jasmine around the front of the house.

I tacked another couple of hours on today, with more weed pulling and trimming, and I even managed to transplant a couple of irises that have multiplied since they were planted and plant garlic around the roses, which is supposed to help them resist mites.

NovySan, meanwhile, took down more than half of the giant prickly pear that’s shadowed the side of the house and menaced the neighbors for years, and discovered that the thick mat of grass growing around it was rooted more or less on itself. We’ve always assumed that walkway was dirt, but it’s not. It’s concrete, and cobblestone, covered with so much quackgrass that other plants had taken up residence and were flourishing, quite happily, without any dirt at all.

The piles of displaced plant matter are mighty indeed. But we’re getting a handle on it.

And gardening is no longer something that other people do.

Tags: Bellydance, Gardening, Knitting, Love, Our Home, Things I've Learned About Myself