Spaghetti with Basil Aioli
adapted from Giada de Laurentis
4-6 servings
Note: This recipe makes enough aioli for two meals, or spread leftover sauce on sandwiches.
1 bunch asparagus cut into 1" pieces, tips reserved
1 pound spaghetti
1 garlic clove, minced
2 large egg yolks
2 teaspoons Dijon mustard
1 teaspoon freshly squeezed lemon juice
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
pinch cayenne pepper
1/2 cup vegetable oil
1/2 cup extra-virgin olive oil
1/2 cup basil cut in chiffonade
Parmesan or Romano cheese, grated
Bring a large pot of water to boil. Salt generously, add asparagus pieces, reserving tips, cook 4 minutes.
Add asparagus tips, cook one more minute. Fish out the asparagus with a skimmer, place in a bowl of ice water to cool.
Make the aioli:
Combine garlic, egg yolks, mustard, lemon juice, salt, pepper, and cayenne in an immersion blender or food processor and run the machine to mix. With the machine running, slowly drizzle in the oils.
Meanwhile, cook spaghetti in the same pot of water until al dente, 8-10 minutes.
Place half of the aioli and the asparagus in a saucepan, add a few ladles full of pasta cooking water to thin. When pasta is still firm to the bite, use tongs to move it into the saucepan and toss.
Gently stir in the basil by hand.
Correct seasoning, serve with grated cheese.
Get your child into bed, pronto.
07 August 2009
Bathtime: A play in one act
The bathroom of a suburban home. Three year-old son has stayed up too late, and is overtired. He's also covered in sunscreen, chlorine, aioli, and bits of spaghetti. Mother places child in the tub.
Mother: I'm going to wet your hair now. Close your eyes so you don't get water in them.
Mother proceeds to pour water over child's head.
Son: What are you doing? Don't DO that!
Mother: Now I'm going to wash your hair.
Son: Okay.
Mother shampoos son's hair.
Son: Stop it, stop it, STOP IT!
Mother: Now I'm going to rinse your hair. Close your eyes, and tilt your head back so you don't get soap in your eyes.
Son: Okay.
Mother proceeds to rinse son's hair.
Son (eyes closed): I CAN'T SEE! I CAN'T SEE!
Son opens eyes.
Son: OW, OW, OW!
Mother: Now I'm going to wash your face.
Mother washes child's face.
Son: HOT SAUCE IS BURNING!!!
Bath is completed in under 2 minutes. Son is dried off.
Mother: I have to put some lotion on you.
Mother gently massages child's skin.
Son: OW, OW, OWEEEEE!
Mother quickly diapers son and puts on his pajamas. She contemplates brushing his teeth, thinks better of it, gives son a kiss and throws him into bed.
Mother: I'm going to wet your hair now. Close your eyes so you don't get water in them.
Mother proceeds to pour water over child's head.
Son: What are you doing? Don't DO that!
Mother: Now I'm going to wash your hair.
Son: Okay.
Mother shampoos son's hair.
Son: Stop it, stop it, STOP IT!
Mother: Now I'm going to rinse your hair. Close your eyes, and tilt your head back so you don't get soap in your eyes.
Son: Okay.
Mother proceeds to rinse son's hair.
Son (eyes closed): I CAN'T SEE! I CAN'T SEE!
Son opens eyes.
Son: OW, OW, OW!
Mother: Now I'm going to wash your face.
Mother washes child's face.
Son: HOT SAUCE IS BURNING!!!
Bath is completed in under 2 minutes. Son is dried off.
Mother: I have to put some lotion on you.
Mother gently massages child's skin.
Son: OW, OW, OWEEEEE!
Mother quickly diapers son and puts on his pajamas. She contemplates brushing his teeth, thinks better of it, gives son a kiss and throws him into bed.
06 August 2009
Imaginary love
Yesterday Sacha was watching Dora the Explorer. Dora always end the show by posing summary questions to her viewing audience. As dull as I find the little Latina automaton, it is cute when my kids have a conversation with her.
"What's your name?" Dora asked.
"Sacha!" he replied. So far, so good.
"How old are you?"
Sacha responded, "Seven."
And...the buzzer sounded, because the correct answer would be three; it's Gabriel, who turned seven this week.
MY SON WAS LYING TO IMPRESS AN IMAGINARY GIRL.
I wasn't sure if I should be proud of how quickly he thought on his feet, or alarmed by his duplicity.
One thing is for certain, though: he is SO ready for online dating.
"What's your name?" Dora asked.
"Sacha!" he replied. So far, so good.
"How old are you?"
Sacha responded, "Seven."
And...the buzzer sounded, because the correct answer would be three; it's Gabriel, who turned seven this week.
MY SON WAS LYING TO IMPRESS AN IMAGINARY GIRL.
I wasn't sure if I should be proud of how quickly he thought on his feet, or alarmed by his duplicity.
One thing is for certain, though: he is SO ready for online dating.
05 August 2009
Senior moment
Yesterday was Gabriel's birthday, and my mother and her husband came to spend the afternoon with us. Top notch grandmother that she is, my mother put on a bathing suit and came to the pool. This was a luxury for me, as I am usually too busy keeping the devil Sacha from drowning, so it freed me up to spend the afternoon swimming with Gabriel.
The biweekly water aerobics class was ending as Gabriel and I frolicked in the pool. The demographic for this class is largely a 60+ crowd, partly, I imagine, because the mothers of young children are not free for such pursuits, and partly, because, water aerobics is largely the domain of the winter-in-Florida crowd.
A woman in her seventies approached me, beaming and said, "What a lovely hat!"
I smiled, and thanked her for the complement.
And then, I realized something. OLD LADIES WEAR HATS.
I had been in the old lady section of the pool, wearing a hat. As this woman approached me, I was, in fact, moving from the four foot to three foot section of the pool not by swimming under the rope, which would have been the most expedient route, but by exiting, and reentering the pool.
I did this because I was wearing my hat, and sunglasses, and, it seemed like a bother to remove them, dive under the rope, and replace them.
And then, I realized something else. OLD LADIES DO NOT LIKE TO MESS UP THEIR HAIR.
If I am to be completely honest, I also exited the pool because I bleached my hair a few weeks ago, and am not unconcerned about the chlorine giving my hair a greenish tinge.
Which made me realize something else. OLD LADIES HAVE WHITE HAIR.
Never mind that I vaulted out of the pool with the grace of a gymnast. And that I thought my blonde hair made me look more punk than septuagenarian.
I WAS ACTING LIKE AN OLD LADY, and I had been recognized as a kindred spirit.
But then again, I am forty, and it is a nice hat, and so I decided to take it as the complement that it was meant to be.
The biweekly water aerobics class was ending as Gabriel and I frolicked in the pool. The demographic for this class is largely a 60+ crowd, partly, I imagine, because the mothers of young children are not free for such pursuits, and partly, because, water aerobics is largely the domain of the winter-in-Florida crowd.
A woman in her seventies approached me, beaming and said, "What a lovely hat!"
I smiled, and thanked her for the complement.
And then, I realized something. OLD LADIES WEAR HATS.
I had been in the old lady section of the pool, wearing a hat. As this woman approached me, I was, in fact, moving from the four foot to three foot section of the pool not by swimming under the rope, which would have been the most expedient route, but by exiting, and reentering the pool.
I did this because I was wearing my hat, and sunglasses, and, it seemed like a bother to remove them, dive under the rope, and replace them.
And then, I realized something else. OLD LADIES DO NOT LIKE TO MESS UP THEIR HAIR.
If I am to be completely honest, I also exited the pool because I bleached my hair a few weeks ago, and am not unconcerned about the chlorine giving my hair a greenish tinge.
Which made me realize something else. OLD LADIES HAVE WHITE HAIR.
Never mind that I vaulted out of the pool with the grace of a gymnast. And that I thought my blonde hair made me look more punk than septuagenarian.
I WAS ACTING LIKE AN OLD LADY, and I had been recognized as a kindred spirit.
But then again, I am forty, and it is a nice hat, and so I decided to take it as the complement that it was meant to be.
04 August 2009
Seven
Today you are seven years old, Gabriel, and not a day goes by where you don't nearly bring me to my knees with your sweetness. In honor of your birthday, here is a list of just seven of the things I love about you:
1. We named you for an angel, and every day you live up to your name.
2. You wake up singing.
3. Recently, we got confirmation of something we already knew: you are very, very smart. But more importantly, you are wise beyond your years, and you work very hard.
4. You often think of others before thinking of yourself.
5. Your big brown eyes.
6. Your sweet cleft chin, which makes you especially handsome.
7. You need to work on your poker face.
Your present has not yet arrived in the mail, but if you check your email, you will find out what it is. In the mean time, because today is your day, we will spend it as you like, doing the things you love to do best.
1. We named you for an angel, and every day you live up to your name.
2. You wake up singing.
3. Recently, we got confirmation of something we already knew: you are very, very smart. But more importantly, you are wise beyond your years, and you work very hard.
4. You often think of others before thinking of yourself.
5. Your big brown eyes.
6. Your sweet cleft chin, which makes you especially handsome.
7. You need to work on your poker face.
Your present has not yet arrived in the mail, but if you check your email, you will find out what it is. In the mean time, because today is your day, we will spend it as you like, doing the things you love to do best.
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