so i made brunch for me da on father’s day–full of farmers market scores. main dish was my heart-healthy version of eggs benedict. (we need to help our papas live as long as possible! but really, he’d have been happy with ham and hollondaise. that combo happens to make me barfy.) so: here’s a recipe for smoked salmon benedict for 4: Read on… »

i don’t know about you, but i find scaling fish to be extremely intimidating. in fact, i have avoided it altogether since that summer i spent at a restaurant in venice beach scaling tuna as big as me using only a chef knife (also about as big as me)…i found that task way more arduous than gutting the dead crabs. i also recall an incident in santa cruz, wrestling a 40 lb salmon fresh in from alaska, whose scales got EVERYWHERE and who looked like it had mange when i was done with it. so i was excited to witness an ingenious scaling technique at our amazing local fish store: they use curry combs. those things you brush horses with. round, metal, concentric circles with sharp teeth. amazing. (although, for normal home kitchens, i suppose it’s easier to just use a plastic spatula.)

so i’ve created a new photo album, optimistically called ‘road trip!’ i’m hoping to have more such driving adventures, more chances to eat at diners thruout the land–my favorite sort of tourism. these inaugural photos are from reb’s cafe, in benson, az, about 40 miles outside of tuscon. my mom and i stop there on our ways to and fro’ new mexico. usually, my mom gets jell-o. this time, she got bread pudding. i had a root beer float, which is one of my favorite desserts, and of course (bad) french fries. there’s not much to be said for reb’s cafe food-wise, except that it’s extremely cheap (our combined excesses came to under 6 bucks) and their fountain items are old-fashioned and satisfying. what they do have are one-of-a-kind waitresses, a counter that hasn’t changed one bit in 50 years (including desert-rats smoking away between sips of coffee), and a wall full of motorcyle pinups mixed with portraits of western-movie stars…i love that they grudgingly inform you that they are required by law to print that rare meats and raw eggs carry risks of illness etcetera (menus have to say this in many states…kind of a buzz-kill, no?), but they couch it in this overtly libertarian language about “big brother watching you.” what rebs.

there’s something a little upsetting about dumping quarts of perfectly ripe strawberries into a big pot and boiling them until they dissolve away into little lumps. it feels violent, violate…then in goes the sugar and the lemon juice, and they start to foam and whimper a little. i’m so sorry little berries! but then, you pour it into a jar, and seal it up, and you have that taste of early summer at your (sticky) fingertips for months and months to come…so then, it seems alright, what you’ve done.