A recipe that's been in my repertoire for years, and happens to be one of my mom's favorites, is grilled salmon with lime, chive, and avocado vinaigrette. It's super simple, delicious, and I think it came from a special issue of Bon Appetit magazine about eighteen years ago. I can't find the original recipe anywhere anymore, so I'm just going to claim it as my own until the copyright police find me. Heck -- who knows how I've changed it over the years? Anyway, the fun part is making the leftover recipe (which will be my next post. probably).
Lime-Grilled Salmon with Avocado Vinaigrette
Adjust amounts to fit your needs. In this case, we had too much salmon for one meal, which is why the leftover dish came about.
I used an outdoor gas grill and hickory chips for smoking. I'm sure a charcoal grill will also make this pleasantly smoky. If you wish to use a grill pan or indoor grill, it's still a delicious meal without the smoky taste.
Salmon
If you are using an outdoor gas grill, set your woodchips up for smoking as directed.
2 pounds wild-caught salmon, fileted
2 to 3 tablespoons fresh lime juice
kosher or sea salt
fresh ground pepper
1/8 to 1/4 cup olive oil
With the salmon skin-side down, sprinkle the lime juice over the salmon. Sprinkle salt and pepper on top. Drizzle olive oil over, and rub mixture into salmon until well coated. Let sit for ten to twenty minutes.
Grill fish until it bounces back to the touch (about eight minutes on medium-high on a gas grill).
Sauce
2 medium avocados, diced
1/4 cup lime juice
zest of one lime
1/3 cup of olive oil
1 tablespoon finely chopped chives (or more to taste)
salt and pepper to taste
Combine all ingredients in a small bowl. Let rest several minutes (while fish cooks). Taste, and adjust seasoning as necessary.
When fish is done, serve with several spoonfuls of sauce on top. Accept the kudos when your mom acts like you're a big chef!
Thursday, July 17, 2008
Monday, July 14, 2008
Here, It's Peace.
One of the really wonderful things that has happened to me in the last couple of years is I've met a really interesting, intelligent, and artistic woman through my son's friendship with a schoolmate. She's a thoughtful liberal, and a funny and complex person, which can be a little rare in the environment in which I live.
One of the really crappy things that has happened to me over the last couple of years is my situation at a job I would otherwise really like. But that changed last week.
I have been trying to see Michele's show since it started, but a combination of stress and circumstance kind of kept me away. In fact, it kept me from a lot of fun activities I would have liked to attend. Though I have seen some of the works she exhibited in the show (and maybe that's not the right word for it -- I am not a visual artist) in her home and online, I knew it wasn't the same as seeing them properly hung, with statements and context. I already knew I find her work powerful, but when the artist is standing there holding the work up before you, it is (for me) difficult to lose myself to the experience.
Though the craptacularness of my job changed by the end of last week, there were still a lot of unanswered questions, mixed emotions, and general disbelief. I walked out of work on Friday afternoon with a sort of surreal potential for celebration.
Saturday was another interesting day. I will blog about that later.
Sunday, I woke up knowing Michele was going to take down her art at 3:00 pm. It was my priority to see it before it went away. I was sad I wasn't going to see the show on a day when Michele was there to talk about it.
Michele's exhibition was titled "Here, It's Peace." I had talked with her before about the meaning of that, and I know it's meant both literally and not literally. Many of the pieces for this collection have a sort of desert camouflage motif, but even though they evoke the current combat situation in the Middle East, they do not literally depict it. And, in fact, the images are also meant to (as I understand it) evoke other types of war and peace. For example, they might suggest the "war" of an illegal alien crossing the border versus the "peace" of a family in San Diego enjoying a day at the beach. Or the "war" of a woman or children who are abused by a violent patriarch versus the "peace" of a happy marriage.
As I say, I have seen many of the works before in other contexts, and always, I have been aware of the juxtaposition of the conflict and the harmonious. But I have always related more to the socio-political implications of the works, especially with regard to the USA's current conflicts.
Sunday, I woke up with an invigorated heart and sense of self. I was ready to let the past go, and give my energy back to my personal life, my friends, and most of all, my son. After entertaining him for a few hours, I set off to see Michele's exhibition.
The San Diego Art Institute is located in Balboa Park. It was very busy, so I had to park far away from the SDAI. For some reason, I felt in a hurry, and dashed off, noticing nothing around me and passing pedestrians left and right, to get to the SDAI.
I got to the SDAI and went downstairs to see Michele's exhibition. It was a rare hot and humid day in San Diego, and I relished the cool quietness that was the exhibition room. Michele's exhibition was the first thing I saw.
I'm not sure I saw the show in the order Michele wanted me to see it, but, for me, the order in which I saw it meant everything. One of the first things that struck me was this painting. There was a poem by Ivan Sigg accompanying the painting that moved me, and I hope Michele will give me a link to it. What really struck me was that for me, the politics were in the background. They were there, but this painting reminded me that personal relationships are what's important. What transcends the politics. As I moved through the rest of the works, I saw things I hadn't seen before. I saw Michele's relationship to her motherhood, which is so similar to mine. I saw her fears and her bravado. I saw and felt orange where before I had seen only camouflage. I saw so much more than I had before.
Note: I'm still processing her piece on Ingrid Betancourt and cannot comment on it now.
Because I was by myself, I could sit on a bench and really let the pieces speak to me. I did that for awhile before I moved on to the pieces behind me.
Those pieces seemed to get more hopeful.
I must say that every piece I saw seemed to speak to me in a new way, and I kept thinking for each piece, "This is my favorite." But then I came to this: http://www.micheleguieu.com/art/2008_atimetoheal09.htm
This was the piece I felt summed up everything I was feeling. It's beautiful, it's powerful, it speaks to me about my motherhood, my nurturing, and my conflicts. I stood before it for a long time, letting it draw me in. The most important part for me is it spoke of my relationship to Michele and of our mutual relationship to our kids, our culture, and our concerns.
If you don't know Michele Guieu's work, you should.
And this is what I wrote to her soon after seeing her show: https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7032908168451246317&postID=5644467662597390856
One of the really crappy things that has happened to me over the last couple of years is my situation at a job I would otherwise really like. But that changed last week.
I have been trying to see Michele's show since it started, but a combination of stress and circumstance kind of kept me away. In fact, it kept me from a lot of fun activities I would have liked to attend. Though I have seen some of the works she exhibited in the show (and maybe that's not the right word for it -- I am not a visual artist) in her home and online, I knew it wasn't the same as seeing them properly hung, with statements and context. I already knew I find her work powerful, but when the artist is standing there holding the work up before you, it is (for me) difficult to lose myself to the experience.
Though the craptacularness of my job changed by the end of last week, there were still a lot of unanswered questions, mixed emotions, and general disbelief. I walked out of work on Friday afternoon with a sort of surreal potential for celebration.
Saturday was another interesting day. I will blog about that later.
Sunday, I woke up knowing Michele was going to take down her art at 3:00 pm. It was my priority to see it before it went away. I was sad I wasn't going to see the show on a day when Michele was there to talk about it.
Michele's exhibition was titled "Here, It's Peace." I had talked with her before about the meaning of that, and I know it's meant both literally and not literally. Many of the pieces for this collection have a sort of desert camouflage motif, but even though they evoke the current combat situation in the Middle East, they do not literally depict it. And, in fact, the images are also meant to (as I understand it) evoke other types of war and peace. For example, they might suggest the "war" of an illegal alien crossing the border versus the "peace" of a family in San Diego enjoying a day at the beach. Or the "war" of a woman or children who are abused by a violent patriarch versus the "peace" of a happy marriage.
As I say, I have seen many of the works before in other contexts, and always, I have been aware of the juxtaposition of the conflict and the harmonious. But I have always related more to the socio-political implications of the works, especially with regard to the USA's current conflicts.
Sunday, I woke up with an invigorated heart and sense of self. I was ready to let the past go, and give my energy back to my personal life, my friends, and most of all, my son. After entertaining him for a few hours, I set off to see Michele's exhibition.
The San Diego Art Institute is located in Balboa Park. It was very busy, so I had to park far away from the SDAI. For some reason, I felt in a hurry, and dashed off, noticing nothing around me and passing pedestrians left and right, to get to the SDAI.
I got to the SDAI and went downstairs to see Michele's exhibition. It was a rare hot and humid day in San Diego, and I relished the cool quietness that was the exhibition room. Michele's exhibition was the first thing I saw.
I'm not sure I saw the show in the order Michele wanted me to see it, but, for me, the order in which I saw it meant everything. One of the first things that struck me was this painting. There was a poem by Ivan Sigg accompanying the painting that moved me, and I hope Michele will give me a link to it. What really struck me was that for me, the politics were in the background. They were there, but this painting reminded me that personal relationships are what's important. What transcends the politics. As I moved through the rest of the works, I saw things I hadn't seen before. I saw Michele's relationship to her motherhood, which is so similar to mine. I saw her fears and her bravado. I saw and felt orange where before I had seen only camouflage. I saw so much more than I had before.
Note: I'm still processing her piece on Ingrid Betancourt and cannot comment on it now.
Because I was by myself, I could sit on a bench and really let the pieces speak to me. I did that for awhile before I moved on to the pieces behind me.
Those pieces seemed to get more hopeful.
I must say that every piece I saw seemed to speak to me in a new way, and I kept thinking for each piece, "This is my favorite." But then I came to this: http://www.micheleguieu.com/art/2008_atimetoheal09.htm
This was the piece I felt summed up everything I was feeling. It's beautiful, it's powerful, it speaks to me about my motherhood, my nurturing, and my conflicts. I stood before it for a long time, letting it draw me in. The most important part for me is it spoke of my relationship to Michele and of our mutual relationship to our kids, our culture, and our concerns.
If you don't know Michele Guieu's work, you should.
And this is what I wrote to her soon after seeing her show: https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7032908168451246317&postID=5644467662597390856
Sunday, July 13, 2008
Goodbye Boss Wack
If you are among my legion of fans who check my blog daily for a new post (Hiya, Gumbeauxgal!), you might have noticed I've been AWOL for, like, two months. There's actually a good reason for this: For about two years, I've been dealing with an increasingly hostile situation at work that recently became intolerable. In a nutshell, my boss was an idiot.
Oh, I know what you're thinking. "Oh, come on! It's the same all across corporate America. Everyone's boss is an idiot, and the same problems exist in every company, and you're just a whiner, or this is your very first job."
Ahem. I'm sorry to disillusion you, but this situation was truly so. fucking. special. (Apologies to Radiohead).
Over the last two years, this boss nearly toppled our entire organization. It almost would have been easier to take if Boss Wack were evil. Instead, BW is pathetically unqualified to perform the work expected. And, unfortunately, BW was too incompetent to carry out the very good advice (even specific instructions) of the many employees who wanted to see the organization (and by association, BW) succeed.
As the situation declined over the years, several of BW's employees developed both emotional and physical symptoms of stress, including digestive trouble, chronic migraines, high blood pressure, anxiety, and depression. Of course, our loved ones advised us to simply "leave work at work" and detach our emotions from the office. Unfortunately, we are all highly ethical, committed to our customers, and invested in quality. Our work is too big a part of our lives to be able to compartmentalize in that way.
Numerous complaints to the higher-ups and traditional HR channels resulted in naught . . . until last week.
As of last Friday, BW is no longer our boss. Several of those who remain likened it to getting out of an abusive relationship, because that's what it essentially was. There was obviously no physical abuse, but there was emotional abuse, and many levels of inappropriateness. None of us has experienced anything quite like this before, and we all have many years of experience in corporate America.
So, the tides have turned, the wall has come crashing down, and a bunch of good people are suddenly happy campers with the weight of the world off our shoulders. We don't know exactly what will happen next, but the future is rife with opportunity and hope.
And that means I have my energy for my personal life back again. I can be happy and funny, and, of course, brilliant again. Let the post-athon commence!
Oh, I know what you're thinking. "Oh, come on! It's the same all across corporate America. Everyone's boss is an idiot, and the same problems exist in every company, and you're just a whiner, or this is your very first job."
Ahem. I'm sorry to disillusion you, but this situation was truly so. fucking. special. (Apologies to Radiohead).
Over the last two years, this boss nearly toppled our entire organization. It almost would have been easier to take if Boss Wack were evil. Instead, BW is pathetically unqualified to perform the work expected. And, unfortunately, BW was too incompetent to carry out the very good advice (even specific instructions) of the many employees who wanted to see the organization (and by association, BW) succeed.
As the situation declined over the years, several of BW's employees developed both emotional and physical symptoms of stress, including digestive trouble, chronic migraines, high blood pressure, anxiety, and depression. Of course, our loved ones advised us to simply "leave work at work" and detach our emotions from the office. Unfortunately, we are all highly ethical, committed to our customers, and invested in quality. Our work is too big a part of our lives to be able to compartmentalize in that way.
Numerous complaints to the higher-ups and traditional HR channels resulted in naught . . . until last week.
As of last Friday, BW is no longer our boss. Several of those who remain likened it to getting out of an abusive relationship, because that's what it essentially was. There was obviously no physical abuse, but there was emotional abuse, and many levels of inappropriateness. None of us has experienced anything quite like this before, and we all have many years of experience in corporate America.
So, the tides have turned, the wall has come crashing down, and a bunch of good people are suddenly happy campers with the weight of the world off our shoulders. We don't know exactly what will happen next, but the future is rife with opportunity and hope.
And that means I have my energy for my personal life back again. I can be happy and funny, and, of course, brilliant again. Let the post-athon commence!
Monday, May 5, 2008
Happiest Blog Post Ever. Sincerely.
A few weeks ago, one of my dearest friends, M, called me at work after being MIA on e-mail for longer than is usual. I picked up, and asked how she was. Instead of saying, "Fine," she asked if I had a moment to talk, so I knew right away something was up.
M has always been very health-conscious. She is fit, she exercises almost every day, she avoids anything even remotely suspected of being carcinogenic, she monitors her cholesterol intake, and she eats bean burritos with remarkable regularity (no pun intended). And she's only 42. So, how in the hell is it possible I was listening to her tell me she had a cancerous polyp in her colon?
I don't know if I found the news particularly shocking because I love M so much, or because I just assumed her healthy lifestyle rendered her impervious to serious illness. In any case, all I could think were such nonsensical things as "Why her? It isn't fair! How could this happen to her?" As though it would be more fair or comprehensible if it happened to -- I don't know -- my son's teacher? My aunt? The woman in front of me in the supermarket line?
So, there it was. It wasn't fair. It isn't fair when it happens to anyone, but M is close to me, so this time, I care. A lot.
M told me the next step would be surgery to remove the part of the colon with the polyp. The surgery is major: They have to cut her open. It's not something that can be done with a scope and a tiny incision. Plus, only after the surgery would they know the severity of the situation.
Fast forward a couple of weeks. M had her surgery last Thursday, and the procedure went well. Astonishingly, the good news came back only two days later: The surgery was completely successful, they were able to completely remove the polyp, and no cancer had spread beyond the part of the colon they removed. As of today, she is home, feeling much better, and hopped up on vicodin.
M said she feels almost like it didn't even happen. Like the pain and worry of the surgery is a small price to pay for the fantastic outcome. I danced when she told me. I've never been so relieved.
I know I will have to face my friends' mortality someday, but I can go back to believing that day is far away. At least for awhile.
M has always been very health-conscious. She is fit, she exercises almost every day, she avoids anything even remotely suspected of being carcinogenic, she monitors her cholesterol intake, and she eats bean burritos with remarkable regularity (no pun intended). And she's only 42. So, how in the hell is it possible I was listening to her tell me she had a cancerous polyp in her colon?
I don't know if I found the news particularly shocking because I love M so much, or because I just assumed her healthy lifestyle rendered her impervious to serious illness. In any case, all I could think were such nonsensical things as "Why her? It isn't fair! How could this happen to her?" As though it would be more fair or comprehensible if it happened to -- I don't know -- my son's teacher? My aunt? The woman in front of me in the supermarket line?
So, there it was. It wasn't fair. It isn't fair when it happens to anyone, but M is close to me, so this time, I care. A lot.
M told me the next step would be surgery to remove the part of the colon with the polyp. The surgery is major: They have to cut her open. It's not something that can be done with a scope and a tiny incision. Plus, only after the surgery would they know the severity of the situation.
Fast forward a couple of weeks. M had her surgery last Thursday, and the procedure went well. Astonishingly, the good news came back only two days later: The surgery was completely successful, they were able to completely remove the polyp, and no cancer had spread beyond the part of the colon they removed. As of today, she is home, feeling much better, and hopped up on vicodin.
M said she feels almost like it didn't even happen. Like the pain and worry of the surgery is a small price to pay for the fantastic outcome. I danced when she told me. I've never been so relieved.
I know I will have to face my friends' mortality someday, but I can go back to believing that day is far away. At least for awhile.
Thursday, May 1, 2008
Mission Accomplished
Five years ago today, we won the war President Bush so thoughtfully started for us.
I'm sure that's very comforting to the many thousands* who have died in the war since then.
*Because I count Iraqis.
I'm sure that's very comforting to the many thousands* who have died in the war since then.
*Because I count Iraqis.
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