Paella and pride

In October, Andrew and I are taking a trip to Spain and England. My uncle is organizing the trip to Spain, and has found a house in Andalusia, where we'll be staying for a week with half a dozen other couples. There's a suggested reading list for the trip, so I've been learning about medieval Spanish history, which can be summed up as, "Sometimes the different religions got along, and sometimes they didn't. But either way, they built lots of beautiful buildings."

All of this Spanish history got me thinking about paella. Paella is not a vegetarian-friendly dish. I've had meat-free versions once or twice, but mostly they taste like a plate of yellow rice and vegetables. I tried my own take this weekend, and the end result is shown below.

I'd rate it about three out of four stars. The sausage, along with lemon and capers and a good base of onion and garlic added a lot of flavor. And I was able to get that toasty rice crust on the bottom (called socarrat, I think), which definitely enhanced in the dish. I think this is a dish best reserved for meat eaters, though, because it just didn't knock my socks off.

Then, fueled by all those carbs, I marched in a parade. My church had a group carrying a banner in the Miami Beach Gay Pride parade. It was loads of fun, because everyone looked so happy to be there. I had it on good authority that the Miami Beach parade is quite tame compared to the New York or San Francisco versions - there was no actual nudity among either the parade-goers or parade-watchers. I only took a few pictures, but hopefully this one conveys some of the color and exuberance.

Back to normal

The verdict after our changing chores experiment: we both do a lot of work, and it seems pretty fairly divided. I learned that I really hate flea combing the cat (ugh) and that Andrew is not a very good kitchen manager (a lot of food spoiled). But now I physically appreciate the fact that Andrew gets up and makes coffee in the morning. When I first wake up, I feel bleary-eye and nauseous. (Can you tell I'm not a morning person?) Being greeted with a cup of coffee in bed is such a different thing than stumbling around getting dressed and fending off loving pets.In the end, we didn't change the amount of work, but we reshuffled the chores a bit because we each discovered some chores we'd rather be doing.

With the end of that experiment, life goes back to normal. The end of the semester, combined with my looming choir concerts, has left me a bit frazzled. So, for now, please be satisfied with some photos:

The hat I wore for Easter.

A view of the Everglades, where we took a tram trip through Shark Valley on Sunday afternoon.

A yawning alligator.

Freaky Friday

When I was a teenager, I read Freaky Friday, a book about a mom and daughter who mysteriously switched bodies. They thereby learn the difficulties of each other's lives and come to appreciate each other. (If you weren't plowing through the young adult section of your local library in the 1990's, like me, then you might have seen the story in the 1976 or 2003 movie versions.)

When Andrew and I moved in together, a few years before we got married, we spent some months negotiating the household chores. We had to figure out what each of us was good at (me: cooking, him: fixing), and what we hated doing (me: cleaning, him:picking stuff up). At one point we weren't sure our arrangement was sufficiently fair, so we switched up everything for a week. Next week, we're going to do that again. He'll cook and do most of the dishes, and I'll drive us to school and walk the dog. We've decided to remove any disasters in the making, so there won't be any dinner parties or major home repairs. And I hope, at the end, that we both appreciate a bit more how much the other does for the family.

Sunday lunch

The weather is lovely right now, so we decided to have lunch in the garden. (But the summer is coming, I'm afraid! We've already had a few hot and muggy days, and such days strike fear into the hearts of all in South Florida.)

I was enjoying the debut of my brand new petticoat, and Andrew enjoyed the double helping of burgers.

The dog and cat are still in the "getting to know you phase," so they can sit together in the same room, but only when the dog is restrained and the citronella spray (used to communicate to Ada that she's been bad) is at the ready.
The cat, of course, is well-accustomed to spending the day tied to a string.

A Styling St. Patrick's Day

We had dinner guests on Saturday night, and I was feeling a bit lazy, so I went with old standbys - homemade pizzas. One was topped with goat cheese and olives, and one with eggs and truffle oil. The nice thing about inviting new people to dinner is that you can serve them food you eat every week and they think it's something new and different. One of the guests had the foresight to bring green food coloring, so that we could celebrate St. Patrick's Day. I enjoyed how festive the water glasses were, but I'm happy he didn't add the food coloring to the pizzas.

I'm still in love with panna cotta. It uses gelatin, which makes it non-vegetarian, but dissolving sugar and gelatin into whipping cream is the work of only a few minutes. And who can fail to be impressed with solid cream? This recipe called for fruit and candied almonds.

Meet Ada

The number of mammals in our house has spiked recently, but we are taking steps to bring the population back under control. Why the spike, you might ask? Well, (sadly) we have another rat in our cupboards, but (happily) we have also adopted a dog.

Meet Ada, named for Ada Lovelace:

Answers to frequently asked questions:

• She's a two-year-old mutt, rescued from the street. She's very lovable, and a bit timid right now. She does not appear to know any commands yet.
• We got a dog because I wanted one, and after weeks of discussion, Andrew weakened. As I'm not one to let an opportunity pass me by, when he said "Yes" to the dog on Sunday morning, I made sure we were at the shelter by Sunday afternoon.
• The cat and dog have only met through screen doors, and so far they're not too friendly.
• We start training classes on Saturday morning. And although my father thinks it would be fun, we have no immediate plans to teach her how to ride on the back of a motorcycle.

Introducing Irulan*, kitten nemesis of Phi the cat

Not pictured below: the cup that shattered when she jumped on the counter, the now-broken seashell that turned out to be a poor toy, or the multiple cups of water we've tipped over her in an effort to explain that kitchen tables are not for walking on.

*Bonus geek points for anyone who knows the origin of her name.