Too Much Tuna -- What to do (Let's not call it a tuna casserole, let's just call it a tuna bake)

Tuna is good for me.  Love me a great tuna steak.  But canned tuna, eh.  Though I keep trying (see first sentence:  Tuna is good for me. And you.).  Also, I keep buying it.  Evidently I keep forgetting that I haven't eaten canned tuna in a while because I don't love it.  So I buy more, and it joins my collection of forgotten tuna.

Witness, friends:  My tuna problem.  My oppor-TUNA-ty (ooo, yeah, that was bad, but I couldn't resist ... )

[And yes, I did rearrange re-pose my tuna so the labels were facing forward and the "bags" or pouches or whatever they are were standing instead of floundering - ha! - on top of the cans.]

My Tuna Solution:

New recipe -- Every Day Food Magazine's Tuna Casserole (with a few tiny tweaks -- who am I to heavily edit Martha Stewart? Nobody, I tell you, nobody.)

My version:

I used Barilla's extra fiber small shells, rather than elbow macaroni, and extra Parmesan. Duh.
Oh, and it was (still is) delish!

It was actually challenging to find the recipe online. But my researcher skills kicked in and I got it for you.  In the October issue is a feature called "better-for-you-bakes" and I fell for the closeup of a giant spoonful of this recipe.  The photo was about five inches large on ipad which is how I get the subscription.  There are pluses and minuses to magazine e-versions versus the paper versions.  But, for me, despite the fact that I prefer the tactile pleasure of actual paper, the e-versions now come down heavy on the plus side.  E-mags are vital to my husband's mental health which is not good when he  sees magazines everywhere he turns in the house ... but that's another blog post. 

Blistering Heat That Hasn't Killed My Plants has Made Them Stronger: My Recipe for Super Easy Grilled Zucchini and Baby Yellow Squash w Balsamic

I figured I'd let my garden decide what to bring to a friend's pot luck the other night. I had been away for a few days in not-as-sweltering Boston and downright mild (comparatively) Provincetown. It’s been sweltering in DC and what heat hasn’t killed our plants (At least two baby yellow pear tomato plants bit it), has only made them stronger, sort of in a scary genetic mutation speed-growth kind of way.  My zucchini for example.  I came home to two enormous and odd looking zucchini (alleged zucchini). 



Baby yellow squash, yellow pear tomatoes (a few still green), two enormous green things masquerading as zucchinis, and two of hubby's jalapenos.

Lobstapalooza -- Kicking off the Summer Right

Boston, Memorial Day weekend.  Friday and Saturday:

Lunch on the waterfront with hubby and Mom (What? The DV has never participated in a lobster boil? Clambake?  Wha?  Poor deprived hubby ... Mom and I decided to bring on Lobstah Fest for Saturday's lunch.)

Saturday woke to the smell of sauce mom had starting making at 5 AM -- mmmm heaven. (Dinner for Sunday ... today is lobster!)

Commence Lobstarama:

In the middle of Downtown Boston, neaar the waterfront, is J Hook:

Where we met lunch (and future lobster ravioli):

Boiled 14 pounds of Mo, Larry, Curley and Snappy, stinking up kitchen (Hmmm, we usually do this at the beach house where smells disperse a little better and more quickly ... )

Of Cooking and CAT Scans: Thanksgiving 2010

My mom (that's her beautiful self to the left, with baby tree-climbing Moroccan goat) was supposed to come to DC to visit for Thanksgiving.  A few days after she returned to Boston from our girl bonding trip all over Morocco, she came down with pneumonia (that's her in Morocco, a day pre-pneumonia).  More on that elsewhere (and the goat in the tree behind Mom.  For real.  Not. A. Joke).  Our wonderful friends Mary and Stilly invited us to Thanksgiving at their house, very close to ours.  Hubby and I met on Thanksgiving Day and got engaged 15 days later so we consider it our true anniversary.  This year makes five years (eeee so cool!!).  Mom was supposed to celebrate with us.

Instead, the day before, she went to see her doctor at Mass General who promptly admitted her. My reaction to this is not to cry or scream or freak, rather, I felt overwhelmed with exhaustion and literally wanted to curl up in a ball and go to sleep on the floor of my office.  Ditto next day, Thanksgiving, 10:30 AM when 1.  I hear how scared she is, 2. CAT scan showed fluid around lung and heart and a problem with her liver.  This time I freaked.  Called hubby on golf course.  I thought.

Hubby is Jr. 

I called Sr. By mistake.

Who I later found out thought his oldest son had been in some horrible accident.  Smart man, handed phone to wife, my glorious mother in law.  She is not just an R.N. The woman runs hospital E.R.s.  Rides in choppers.  Medical and managerial badass.  Talked me off ledge.  Didn’t even bother hubby on golf course.  Set about to chopping.  Very therapeutic.  Before that, I went through over my entire iTunes library and every some I clicked on every song that made me smile AND made me feel good, like I wanted to dance.  If I could.  Even though I can’t. (Listening now, loooove it).

Played music, made Mom’s dressing with my tweaks, and her sauerkraut, also tweaked for hubby.  I eat the former, but not the latter. 

Yup, that’s the Thanksgiving story.  Finally spoke with Mom and her attending physician (so very Grey’s), who explained how they were ruling out all sorts of things (bad things, this is where I started rooting hard for infection, any infection, bacterial or viral; I’ll take it over lupus or rheumatism). 

Happy Thanksgiving!! (That's a shot I took of Mom in Morocco a few weeks ago.  Did I mention she's 71?  Just wanted to see if you read to the end, kidding!! But I bet you're going to check out that close up pic at the top ... I would.)