When you're at a loss for what to do for dinner tonight, try this out. I'm telling you, your children and your children's children will be talking about this for a long time. A taste explosion!
ingredients
3 large sea scallops per person
1 ripe avocado
1 ripe mango
1 package string beans
1 can garbanzo beans
1 good sized scallion
1 good handful of cilantro (chopped)
1 medium handful of sundried tomatoes
1 medium handful of pine nuts
olive oil
toasted sesame oil
1/2 cup fresh tangerine juice (or, in a pinch, orange juice)
1/8 to 1/4 cup soy sauce
1/8 to 1/4 cup lemon pepper oil (or the flavored oil of your liking -- maybe basil oil, for example)
1 lime
ground black pepper to taste
the scallops
- place scallops into a hot pan that has been coated nicely with olive oil. use medium heat.
- sear scallop bottoms until nicely caramelized. flip and do the same to the reverse side.
the mango salsa
- chop mango into smallish pieces. same for avocado. add in chopped scallion and chopped cilantro. add in the juice of the lime and the toasted sesame oil. let stand.
the tangerine reduction
- into a saucepan, put tangerine juice, soy sauce and lemon pepper oil. place under medium heat and allow the mixture to reduce.
- when the sauce has thickened, let simmer and spoon on to scallops
stringbean chopped salad
- blanch stringbeans for no more than two minutes in boiling water. drain and put in a bowl of cold/ice water. drain that bowl and add the stringbeans and drained garbanzos to the bowl. add in sundried tomatoes.
- in a pan, toast pine nuts either with a little olive oil or without -- your choice. add in pine nuts to beans.
- sprinkle the mix liberally with olive oil and black pepper and stir.
Serve scallops atop the mango salsa with the bean salad on the side. spoon your tangerine reduction over the scallops.
Wham! One great dinner!
Saturday, August 21, 2010
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
We're Gonna Need A Bigger Boat
You remember that line, right? Roy Scheider utters it in a moment of awe and horror as he takes in the spectacle of the great white thinking lunch thoughts next to Roy’s hopelessly undersized boat. Funny how that line flew into my consciousness as Mojo did his level best to re-enact Captain Sam Quint’s role in “Jaws” this morning. What Mojo clearly didn’t appreciate was that, in fact, he was actually reprising the title role from the 1939 classic “Idiot’s Delight.”
This morning’s jaunt began innocently enough: bright early morning sun, a beautiful low tide, lots of dogs. But, when someone shouted “shark,” that was reason enough to know this was not going to be your ordinary morning. As we turned to the ocean shallows, the large silvery dorsal fin was unmistakable, and while he was no mammoth great white, he was no minnow either. Both two-legged and four-legged life forms immediately got out of, or steered clear of, the water……except Mojo. To the extent that Mojo can be said to think actual thoughts, I felt he was saying, “Damn, that’s one big minnow out there!” Not needing any further encouragement, and having batted zero for a thousand in this summer’s endless attempts to finally land a minnow, Mojo dove into the shallows and attacked the shark. Let me repeat that: he attacked the shark. With his front paws sitting astride the dorsal fin, I feared the Mojomeister was on the verge of having a sushi breakfast were it not for the deft escape maneuver of the shark who proved to be the far wiser of the two animals in this one act play. You could just hear the shark thinking, “What the hell is that lunatic black thing on my back?” as he slithered off to deeper waters.
Normalcy ensued for maybe another 20 minutes or so until the shoreline was visited by yet another shark, this one, to my eyes, even bigger than the last one. (I think the first one went back for reinforcements.) Mojo, having learned nothing from his first encounter, dove into the ocean yet again in pursuit thinking, no doubt, how this really was his lucky day. Never, ever, had the Isle of Palms been visited by such fabulous minnows. In proving yet again how stupid people can be when faced by moments of trauma, I ran into the ocean after him waving my plastic ball launcher as if this were weapon enough should things get dicey. Fortunately, this shark came from the same smart family as the first visitor and found a way to get away from the shark-surfing Mojo and retreat to live another day.
My friend, Brian, tried to convince me that Mojo was not acting stupidly, but was actually indulging in an act of heroism; that Mojo was, in fact, putting himself in harm’s way to save his buddies from an unsavory fate. This is what I will let others think. I would say that Mojo and I know better, but clearly, Mojo does not. When we returned home and I watched Mojo eating his usual breakfast of dry, boring kibble, I wondered whether thoughts of sushi or shark tartare danced in his head.
Next time, big fella, next time.
This morning’s jaunt began innocently enough: bright early morning sun, a beautiful low tide, lots of dogs. But, when someone shouted “shark,” that was reason enough to know this was not going to be your ordinary morning. As we turned to the ocean shallows, the large silvery dorsal fin was unmistakable, and while he was no mammoth great white, he was no minnow either. Both two-legged and four-legged life forms immediately got out of, or steered clear of, the water……except Mojo. To the extent that Mojo can be said to think actual thoughts, I felt he was saying, “Damn, that’s one big minnow out there!” Not needing any further encouragement, and having batted zero for a thousand in this summer’s endless attempts to finally land a minnow, Mojo dove into the shallows and attacked the shark. Let me repeat that: he attacked the shark. With his front paws sitting astride the dorsal fin, I feared the Mojomeister was on the verge of having a sushi breakfast were it not for the deft escape maneuver of the shark who proved to be the far wiser of the two animals in this one act play. You could just hear the shark thinking, “What the hell is that lunatic black thing on my back?” as he slithered off to deeper waters.
Normalcy ensued for maybe another 20 minutes or so until the shoreline was visited by yet another shark, this one, to my eyes, even bigger than the last one. (I think the first one went back for reinforcements.) Mojo, having learned nothing from his first encounter, dove into the ocean yet again in pursuit thinking, no doubt, how this really was his lucky day. Never, ever, had the Isle of Palms been visited by such fabulous minnows. In proving yet again how stupid people can be when faced by moments of trauma, I ran into the ocean after him waving my plastic ball launcher as if this were weapon enough should things get dicey. Fortunately, this shark came from the same smart family as the first visitor and found a way to get away from the shark-surfing Mojo and retreat to live another day.
My friend, Brian, tried to convince me that Mojo was not acting stupidly, but was actually indulging in an act of heroism; that Mojo was, in fact, putting himself in harm’s way to save his buddies from an unsavory fate. This is what I will let others think. I would say that Mojo and I know better, but clearly, Mojo does not. When we returned home and I watched Mojo eating his usual breakfast of dry, boring kibble, I wondered whether thoughts of sushi or shark tartare danced in his head.
Next time, big fella, next time.
Sunday, August 15, 2010
Life Among the Giants
Mojo has a couple of friends, Mabel and Bosco, whose mere appearance casts shadows across whatever landscape you happen to find yourself in. Mojo is not exactly small in the world of canines; he’s about 75 pounds, give or take. You know he’s there. But Bosco is to Mojo what Mojo is to a cereal box. Bosco, and his mom Mabel, are great danes and they live next door under the same roof as their guardians, Brian and Jan. I see Mabel and Bosco -- oftentimes referred to around these parts as “the ponies” -- at the beach every morning where the vastness of the shoreline can make even these behemoths seem average-sized. But, indoors, they can make your 2,000 square foot house seem like nothing more than a large efficiency in a flash. They fill the space, as they say.
This weekend, Lily and I became dog sitters for the ponies as both Brian and Jan had to be in Chicago for a funeral for Jan’s mom. When Brian asked me if we would take in the big galoots, I didn’t hesitate. I knew they got along famously with Mojo, and I knew this would help out Brian and Jan. The plan was for Bosco and Mabel to stay at their home with me coming over to feed them, walk them, and take them to the beach in the mornings. For a day that worked. While Lily joined me in our early morning beach outing, and was a huge help, I still felt like it would have been helpful to have a third eye and, perhaps, a third arm. Bosco has a tendency to want to explore the rear regions of the deep beach, while Mabel actively seeks out both other dogs and the stray passer-by against whom she does her famous lean which can bowl you over if you don’t pay attention. All the while, Mojo is doing his frenetic “dance in the shallows” looking for minnows, or alternately, leaving tennis balls all over the place which he has passionately chased, but not so passionately returned. And, one of them is surely pooping somewhere during all this, and not always where it’s most convenient. Shepherding these three brutes to more or less head in the same direction is like the proverbial herding of cats. Very big cats. When you finally get them on leashes to get them home, the odds of your getting twisted into a pretzel are of a sort that even Vegas smiles on. So -- this is more than a one-person job, at least for me it is. But, day one, went swimmingly. A good time was had by all.
Day two, however, large and very noisy thunderstorms altered the landscape in more ways than one. Mabel fears thunderstorms the way you and I fear not being able to breathe, so when storms arrive (or even when they’re still in the distance), the poor girl goes into manic mode, drooling, tail curled downward, all the while seeking a safe haven. This is what happened this morning. In an effort to ease her stress, I cajoled her and Bosco -- who is fine with all this climatic drama -- to come over to our house where at least Mabel would have the comfort of human company.
As I write this, this is still a work in progress. What I can say is that Bosco and Mabel follow me around the house in a way that makes me feel like I’m being trailed by two small continents, one on either side. Mojo darts in and around the continents with a toy in his mouth seeking a playmate, two-legged or four -- it doesn’t matter. I feel the need for space.
Sunshine could really help here.
This weekend, Lily and I became dog sitters for the ponies as both Brian and Jan had to be in Chicago for a funeral for Jan’s mom. When Brian asked me if we would take in the big galoots, I didn’t hesitate. I knew they got along famously with Mojo, and I knew this would help out Brian and Jan. The plan was for Bosco and Mabel to stay at their home with me coming over to feed them, walk them, and take them to the beach in the mornings. For a day that worked. While Lily joined me in our early morning beach outing, and was a huge help, I still felt like it would have been helpful to have a third eye and, perhaps, a third arm. Bosco has a tendency to want to explore the rear regions of the deep beach, while Mabel actively seeks out both other dogs and the stray passer-by against whom she does her famous lean which can bowl you over if you don’t pay attention. All the while, Mojo is doing his frenetic “dance in the shallows” looking for minnows, or alternately, leaving tennis balls all over the place which he has passionately chased, but not so passionately returned. And, one of them is surely pooping somewhere during all this, and not always where it’s most convenient. Shepherding these three brutes to more or less head in the same direction is like the proverbial herding of cats. Very big cats. When you finally get them on leashes to get them home, the odds of your getting twisted into a pretzel are of a sort that even Vegas smiles on. So -- this is more than a one-person job, at least for me it is. But, day one, went swimmingly. A good time was had by all.
Day two, however, large and very noisy thunderstorms altered the landscape in more ways than one. Mabel fears thunderstorms the way you and I fear not being able to breathe, so when storms arrive (or even when they’re still in the distance), the poor girl goes into manic mode, drooling, tail curled downward, all the while seeking a safe haven. This is what happened this morning. In an effort to ease her stress, I cajoled her and Bosco -- who is fine with all this climatic drama -- to come over to our house where at least Mabel would have the comfort of human company.
As I write this, this is still a work in progress. What I can say is that Bosco and Mabel follow me around the house in a way that makes me feel like I’m being trailed by two small continents, one on either side. Mojo darts in and around the continents with a toy in his mouth seeking a playmate, two-legged or four -- it doesn’t matter. I feel the need for space.
Sunshine could really help here.
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