Check items off, let nothing be missed, sing I to myself and my 100 lists.

Despite having access to some way-cool, still under development, task-management software, and even though I'd set aside the whole morning, I'm still dragging my feet when it comes to listing and prioritizing all the things I need to do.

So as part of my procrastinating, I started pondering why I was procrastinating. Yep, it's that bad. And while the answer is probably blindingly obvious to, well, anyone, it took me a half-hour of cogitation to realize that once I list the tasks I need to complete, I'll then have to actually complete them.

Thus, I'm not just procrastinating, I'm metaprocrastinating.

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"Check items off, let nothing be missed, sing I to myself and my 100 lists."	Lyrics from the song Girl of 100 Lists by The Go-Go's

Left for Dead

Had a beach picnic on the Fourth and the fridge is filled with leftovers that are going to go bad if I don't use them soon. There's half a red onion, half a lime, and some vegetable stock all left for dead unless I do something.

So, let's make some bean soup! I start by simmering the chopped red onion in olive oil until it begins to caramelize. I salt and pepper the onions generously, both to bring out the water and to bolster the flavor of this simple, thick soup.

Next I add two cans of cannellini beans, liquid and all. I heat the beans for a couple of minutes then add vegetable stock to cover them, mix everything together and bring it to a boil.

Once boiling, I lower the heat and simmer the soup until the aroma moves from the sharp tang of stock to the pillowy heartiness of stewed beans (at least 20 minutes). To finish the soup I squeeze in the juice from the half a lime then mash the beans with a potato masher until most of them are pureed and the soup is nice and thick.

It goes great with a couple slices of good wheat bread and the spicy fruit of a Stryker 2002 Syrah (Estate Alexander Valley).

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Left for Dead	Song by Voodoo Glow Skulls

A Good Year for the Roses

This was one of those slow Santa Cruz days; the overcast didn't burn off until almost three in the afternoon. For some reason, as long as it's overcast out I'm fine just puttering around the house, picking up stuff and doing laundry. But once the sun comes out I start feeling guilty about staying at home. It's like the marine layer keeps my thoughts trapped at home, but once it evaporates I remember the many things I could be doing out in the world.

But I've much to do around the house so I figured a nice glass of sangria would be a fitting way to celebrate the sun's arrival, tardy as it may be.

So in a pitcher went two sliced oranges, one blood and one Valencia, and two chopped apples, one Fuji and one Granny Smith, along with two cinnamon sticks. Then in went a tablespoon of powdered sugar and three tablespoons each of Grand Marnier and brandy, stirred to coat the fruit. That mixture then sat for an hour to draw out the juices from the fruit.

Finally I added a cup of orange juice and a bottle of red wine. My selection was a 2005 Ruchè di Castagnole Monferrato (imported by Bonny Doon Vineyard). The striking, almost overwhelming, bouquet of roses on this Ruchè blends nicely with the fruit in the sangria.

Once everything blends for a while and is served over ice, the result is a fine, tasty sangria. But be careful, it's quite potent regardless of how easy it is to drink. (Something I always forget until about halfway through the glass.)

The sangria recipe is from Martha Stewart, though she calls for a cup of grapes in hers. I don't think the grapes add much to the overall result so I usually don't bother.

Oh, and speaking of not bothering, the overcast was back by four-twenty. Cozy.

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A Good Year for the Roses	Song covered by Elvis Costello & The Attractions, originally by George Jones

Tell her to reap it in a sickle of leather.

A month ago I potted some plants, including cilantro. Normally I don't do well with plants, but I've been making an effort to keep these watered.

Well tonight I made a batch of salsa and thus had occasion to harvest some of my flourishing herb. I'm amazed at how much the cilantro has grown in just a month; here's a shot of the plant after I cut about a half-a-bunch's worth off the bottom. It's already two feet tall, and showing no signs of slowing down.

The cilantro was the perfect touch in a batch of restaurant-style salsa, giving it a fresh snap of flavor. The salsa's easy to make and the secret, taught to me years ago by my buddy, Tony, is to parboil the tomatoes and jalapeños before blending. This keeps them from turning rancid in a couple of days, and keeps the salsa from becoming too watery.

Tonight, for instance, I parboiled two roma tomatoes and three jalapeño peppers. (Use roma tomatoes as they have less pulp, once again helping avoid watery salsa.) Don't let the water come to an actual boil, and stop when the tomato skins peal. For an added depth of flavor, I add a handful of peppercorns to the water.

While the produce was parboiling, I stripped the leaves off the half-bunch of cilantro and put them in the food processor. Then I pulled the tomatoes and jalapeños out of the peppered hot water and put them in the processor. Next I poured in a 15-ounce can of "fire-roasted" crushed tomatoes — yep, that's why there were only two fresh tomatoes. I like to use a mix of fresh and canned, and the roasted ones have a nice smoky note. Finally I added about a quarter-teaspoon of chopped garlic (just used the stuff in a jar if you have it) and some salt and pepper.

Pulse until it looks like what you want: not too chunky and not soup. This particular ratio turned out great, with a bit of heat but not too much. I mushed up an avocado and added three spoonfuls of salsa for a quick-and-dirty guacamole, which made a fine dinner accompanied by blue-corn chips and paired with a 2005 Beaujolais Villages.

Oh, and not that I wanted to turn this blog into some sort of HGTV special, but since I mentioned my recent gardening efforts, I figured an update on the poppies is in order. As shown in the picture, the California poppies I potted a month ago are now in glorious bloom! Each pot is thriving and they seem to take turns bursting forth with flowers. Which reminds me...they're probably due for some water...

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"Tell her to reap it in a sickle of leather."	Lyric from the song Scarborough Fair/Canticle by Simon and Garfunkel

The talking trees are silent in a noisy way.

We got our trees today!

A week ago I noticed that squares had been spray-painted on the sidewalk in front of the parking lot next to my house. Inside the squares was the notation "tree." I was quite excited by the notion we might be getting some new trees on our block; sure enough, this morning three trees arrived on a flat-bed truck, along with a crane to lift them into place.

A crew cut away the concrete sidewalk, dug a hole, and put the young trees in place. They placed three trees along the face of the lot, one at each end and one in the middle. (The trees were placed on the Center Street side of the lot; the Cedar Street side has trees already.)

The foreman says the trees won't grow too tall and hit the power lines, but rather should fill out nicely. They will definitely add some beauty to a dull stretch of block. And give Jake something new to anoint.

It's cool the city had budget for this.

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"The talking trees are silent in a noisy way."	Lyric from the song The Singing Sea by Tulivu-Donna Cumberbatch

Let Our Garden Grow

Potted the remaining California Poppy plant today. I also picked up some cilantro and rosemary that were on sale and potted those, too. I'm hoping they all will be easy to grow, given my indifference to rigorous gardening methods (read: inability to water regularly).

I put the pots up on the back steps so they will get more sun. I'm hoping this placement also makes it difficult for Jake to pee on them.

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Let Our Garden Grow	Song by The Bad Plus

As Far As Thieves Go

I've always admired our state flower, the California Poppy. I like the golden orange color and the way it suddenly appears in Spring, all bright and proud. It's hardy, as a good wildflower should be, and since it's a native it tolerates poor soils and sparse water.

Early Spanish settlers called this plant Dormidera, or the drowsy one, because the petals curl up at night.

When I bought my house it had two stained glass windows that depicted (or so I believe) California Poppies as they greet the day, curled tight and ready to unfurl. During my remodel I salvaged these windows and had them remounted in the dining room, with exterior lights set above for a striking evening illumination.

And to continue the poppy theme in the remodeled house I chose a new front door with leaded glass depicting a trio of poppy flowers. This, too, is eye-catching at night when the porch light shines through.

So clearly I'm predisposed to these flowers, and I've been intending to plant some around the house. On Saturday I went to the local garden center to get some liquid fertilizer and a sprayer; the front lawn's been looking a bit peaked ever since it was mowed a couple of weeks ago and I find spritzing it with some "fortified water" helps it come around. While there I came across the last, lonely California Poppy plant available, a fine, flowering specimen from the good folks at Annie's Annuals. Naturally I bought it.

As I walked home I thought about where to put the poppy, and decided it would do best in a pot on the front porch. That spot gets lots of afternoon sun and the bright flowers will look good against my beige walls. But Saturday was a busy day and I didn't have time to pot the plant. Instead I set it on the porch, its new "home," to be dealt with on Sunday.

I wake this morning, make a big pot of coffee, and head out front to get the Sunday paper. And the plant is gone. Some miserable, selfish, evil person has stolen my California Poppy right off my front porch. Immediately I'm angry. Not because of money lost; the plant was only $5. But because this theft was so unjustified. The plant won't provide anyone food or shelter, this wasn't a theft of necessity. Rather it was one of convenience, an item taken because it was easily reached.

I spend some time moping around, thinking I'll need to put up a front fence before I can even enjoy the sight of some flowers on my porch. Then I get angry again: there's no reason why I can't have a pot of flowers, and I'd be damned if some miscreant is going to keep me from adding a little color to my home. So I decide to get some more poppies and plant them in my largest, heaviest terra cotta pot and put them right on the porch.

Off I go to a different local garden center. I get three poppy plants, big and bushy but unfortunately not in bloom as their abducted cousin was, and some more potting soil. Back home I clean up the two biggest matching pots I have and get to work.

Unfortunately I've misjudged how much potting soil I need for these large pots; I can only fill one and the garden center has closed early for Easter. But no matter. I get one pot filled and placed proudly on the porch. It's my house, my yard, and I will have California Poppies on the porch.

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As Far As Thieves Go	Song by Blind Spot

I'm romancin' in my thirty dollar suit.

The blog has a new look, as I've moved it to the spiffy TicTac theme from Dan Cederholm (of SimpleBits fame). It's a very nice template available to all on Blogger.

Most importantly, this new design clearly separates the posts from the sidebar, so the site should be easier to navigate.

Thanks for the great template, Dan!

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"I'm romancin' in my thirty dollar suit."	Lyric from the song $30 Suit by Monkey

Sea Cruise

One of my best friends in Santa Cruz is about to take a gig aboard a cruise ship (the Grand Princess) as part of the orchestra. As I hadn't seen Rob for a long time I wanted to be sure we got together before he shipped out, so I invited him and his boyfriend Stuart over for dinner. Plus, I've been eager to make some real food in my new kitchen.

We had quite the feast: Caesar Salad with Baked Tofu, Whole-Wheat Penne and Roasted Asparagus with Blood Orange Gremolata, and Rosemary Foccacia. All of it organic, of course, and the asparagus was from a nearby farm in Hollister.

For dessert I made a Strawberry-Red Pear Tart with Coconut-Lavender Anglaise Sauce, based on recipes from my all-time favorite restaurant, Millennium.

The tart recipe calls for rhubarb, but I couldn't find any locally since it's early in the season. So I substituted some large red anjou pears and they worked beautifully. The crust is a fantastic pastry dough with toasted walnuts; it's very forgiving and thus easy to work with, and it's so flavorful versus a plain crust. I filled a 10" tart pan so there was plenty left over after we each had a generous slice.

For parings, we started with Bonny Doon's 2005 "Il Giocoliere" Moscato d'Asti as an apertif then moved to their 2005 Vin Gris de Cigare with the salad. With the pasta we had a La Loggia 2002 Barolo.

Everyone enjoyed dinner, and it was good to catch up with Rob and Stuart.

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Sea Cruise	Song by Rico

The Telephone Always Rings

My telephone is on TV! Well, a cousin of my telephone is on TV, featured in the new iPhone ad. The ad starts with a ringing telephone circa the mid-40s; I've a refurbished model of the same phone in my bedroom.

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The Telephone Always Rings	Song by Fun Boy Three