Sometimes Matt Makes Dinner

It’s true. In fact, it happens a few times a week. On days we both work, I typically come home to a set table with an awesome dinner, which is very often the best part of my day. So when the other night I arrived to an apartment that smelled of basil and garlic, I knew Matt was up to something delicious.

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There’s something fishy going on in the universe. Has anyone else noticed it? A curious string of coincidences has befallen me this past week. Too many to ignore. What kind of coincidences, you wonder? OK, I’ll give you a few examples. Remember last week when I was writing about the nature of habits? Well, this week I started reading Swann’s Way—it’s a summer reading goal/challenge—and the first chapter is all about habits. I offer this beautiful sentence as proof (and as a way of tempting you to join me in my Swann’s Way summer): 
    “Habit! That skillful but very slow housekeeper who begins by letting our mind suffer for weeks in a
     temporary arrangement; but whom we are nevertheless truly happy to discover, for without habit our
     mind, reduced to no more than its own resources, would be powerless to make a lodging habitable.”

Additionally, Mr. Charles Duhigg, who authored the book The Power of Habit, and whom I quoted in last week’s post, turned up on this most recent episode of This American Life, which I listened to shortly after reading the first chapter of Swann’s Way. Minor coincidences? Maybe for you!

Thirdly, (but not lastly, as there really were plenty of these strange little overlaps this week—just ask Matt about our recent game of Draw Something), as I’ve been packing, I’ve naturally been making tough decisions about which old magazines to keep and which to throw away. One in particular I’d held on to was the February issue of Harper’s. I remembered the reason I’d kept it. It included a short story by Yoko Ogawa, a writer whose novella I loved, and so, instead of adding it to either the throwaway or keep pile, I placed it by my bedside table to read. Well, first of all, I’m glad I held onto it. The story was great if not creepy—in the best sense of the word. Plus, there was this funny scene in the beginning where the protagonist sees her landlord, Mrs. J., shoo away a stray cat from the garden in the courtyard. The tenant opens her window to tell her that she should spread pine needles around the beds to keep them away, but Mrs. J. doesn’t acknowledge her and instead just keeps going on and on about how much she can’t stand cats in her garden. The tenant continues to recommend pine needles and Mrs. J. continues to go off about cats digging up her seeds and using the area for a litter box.

Fast forward to two days later: Matt and I have closed on our new house, but don’t move in for another week. So, we’re having our first takeout dinner on the picnic table in the backyard, and I’m thinking about Mrs. J. while talking about my big garden plans, when I see not one, but two cats make a beeline for what is slated to be our garden area.

So where does pesto and fruit salad come into play in all of this? Who knows? Can it simply be my offering to the universe with the hope that it fits into your life in some meaningful way? I mean check out those strawbs and blubes!

As for now, I’m onward and boxward. Hope to see you soon from our new perch and our potentially-pine-needle-surrounded garden!

Matt’s Pesto via his Mom’s recipe:
1 cup toasted pine nuts
8 cups fresh basil leaves
3 garlic cloves
2/3 cup extra-virgin olive oil
1 cup grated Parmesan
Salt
Pepper

Wash and clean the basil. Drop it in boiling water (less than a minute). Shock it in an ice-bath. Pull out and dry. Put clump of basil in the food processor.

Add toasted pine nuts, garlic cloves, Parmesan cheese. Pulse. Slowly add oil. Season to taste!