Still below freezing, still snowing. Just a week ago I foolishly abandoned my resolution to remain snowbound and left the house. As this blog is supposed to be about Being Old, I'll report that I tripped at the entrance to the post office, on a mat placed there so one wouldn't trip. My instant reaction was a triumphant I DIDN'T BREAK ANYTHING -- if you're older than 70, you know how I felt.
For eight days now I've watched this black eye, hoping it would fade before I'm to give a (sold-out!) talk on Tuesday, but not much is happening. It's suggested I say my husband hit me, but as some of those present may know he died four years ago, that's not going to work.
But back to this unexpected receipt of bon appetit magazine. I am bemused by a full-page photo of Hearts of Palm and Artichoke Aquachile Negro and then -- whaddye know!
Here's a perfectly recognizable recipe. This sandwich uses cheese with an English name, and the bread is -- as it should be -- what my son Dov calls "fluffy". As usual, they have to do Something Different, and this time it's spreading the outside of the slices with mayonnaise before grilling on a buttered pan. Any of you ever done it that way? Maybe that's the secret of those fantastic ones at the drive-in in Whitefish Bay, Wisconsin. I fully intend to try this, as soon as I can get someone to dig out the car -- at the moment I'm out of fluffy bread.
BTW -- can someone tell me how to change the info under my picture? I'm 89 now and we journalists are sticklers for accuracy.