Something Fishy

Today’s post was going to be a mushy, gushy Valentine cooking post. A step by step of me making my husband’s all time favorite pasta –  fra diavolo.  Shrimp, bay scallops and squid. I was going to talk about my favorite shortcut. Rao’s tomato sauce. It’s $9 a jar – and yes, making real sauce is easy and it costs $2 – what’s your point? I was going to tell you not to be scared of shortcuts, or squid. That it’s no biggie. I’ve done it before. It cooks in a couple of seconds and people are impressed.  And I had pictures…tons of freaking pictures. I was going to show you how brave I am. Buying, cleaning, chopping squid like it was my business. I’ve done it before. No big thaang.  But then something happened.  (if you are my husband, for the love of god, stop reading this).

As I cleaned the squid…I found….gulp….a little baby fish inside!! 

Hold me.

After I stared at it for a few minutes and the nausea had worn off, I washed my hands and did what all smart people faced with oddities do – I YouTubed it, and googled it, and Wiki’d it, and Web MD’d it (just in case).  The people of the internet told me it’s normal. Happens all the time. Feed it to my cat, etc. But even now, hours later, I shiver when I think of it. Maybe the squid had a last meal and didn’t have time to finish, maybe it was the thing they used to lure the squid. Alls I know is, it ended up in my kitchen.

I’ve been changed people. Some sort of gross seafood cherry has been popped. I had to come to terms with it quickly. My kids or my hubby could not/should not ever see this.  You don’t understand. My husband, I love him, but he’s no adventurous foodie.  He gets really grossed out really quickly. And I couldn’t let my kids see it – the horror the horror!

So like every good mother and wife, I got rid of the evidence and pretended all was good.

Now, safe in my bed, I can finally come to terms with it.

Here’s what I went through folks. Happy f’ing Valentine’s day…

I’ll start with the harmless ones first.  Prepare yourselves. Here’s the shrimp/sauce/squid.  I forgot to take pictures of the scallops because – did I mention – I found food inside the food!! It’s like a bad M.Night Shyamalan plot twist. Back to my sordid story.

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Please note that my cutting board is…well..it’s all cut-up. These are not just props people. This stuff gets used!

Here’s the fresh squid. Yes, it looks slimy but there’s no smell and it handles easily. It also easily cuts into the calamari ringlets.

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And then, as I clean it. I notice this little guy or gal or it. Do you want to hurl like me?

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I want my mommy.

Reason number 8,222,329 to be a vegetarian: I’ve never found a carrot in the middle of my bagel. Or an almond in my banana. I’ll stop now.

 

 

 

Good God

Yesterday I overheard a conversation that my son had with one of his pals – eavesdropping, it’s like a hobby of mine.

They were talking about a statue of the Indian god Ganesh that I have in my living room.  Admittedly, I know more about Jesus than Ganesh, but I do know that Ganesh is the god of “good luck” or something like that.  Truth be told – I bought the thing to make my mother happy when she visits.

Good luck god in-house – check!

Here’s the conversation piece….

I also have a beautiful Gaelic cross right next to it.  Am I trying to make a deep, thoughtful statement on how we should all get along? Nope. I just thought it was cool. Yes I’m shallow and vapid – but at least I’m honest!

Anyway, my son was explaining to his pal that we are Indian.  He said,” but not “Natural American” like from Plymouth, from the country India in China.” Then his pal asked,”what’s it called?” And my son said,”it’s called Greta.”

I blame myself.  I blame our school system’s lack of focus on Geography, and I also blame my husband – He and I went to Catholic school our whole lives (why did I go to a Catholic school when I’m not Catholic? Because there are no Hindu schools, and my father believed any religion is better than no religion).

When my daughter was born we decided that he was right, and that we wanted to pass on both religions to our children.  But we were delusional. Our hearts were in the right place – but we were fooling ourselves. The only thing we’ll be passing on is a half-hearted, lax approach to a higher power.  Let’s face it, we’ve schooled them better on The Beatles than we have on God.

We don’t go to church-except on food related holidays, we don’t go to temple-although the few times we’ve gone it’s been fun to see my burly Irish Ukrainian husband try to sit criss-cross apple sauce for 2 hours.

Thank goodness that Hinduism is very forgiving – and fellow Catholics don’t point and laugh when we show up once a year to sing carols.  And we do believe in God/Ganesh/Greta – really we do – but I don’t see us changing our ways anytime soon.

Pray for us – we need it!