I considered getting creative with the potatoes tonight but ultimately went back to a classic: Mark Bittman's potato salad for grown-ups. It is so darn good and satisfying every single time. The only change I make is to steam my spuds rather than boil them. The dressing is perfect, with nary a drop of mayo in sight. Just olive oil, Dijon mustard, lemon juice, capers, shallots and parsley. Marvelous! I also had some Seeduction bread (a great loaf from Whole Foods) and more of the carrot-harissa salad. Y'all should have seen O's face earlier today. I was snacking on the carrots, and he asked for a bite. I said, "Ol, this is kinda spicy," and he said, "sometimes I like spicy fings." OK! True enough. The kid loves salsa, and bitter is right up his alley so I gave him a relatively harissa-free carrot. Y'all, he started flapping his hands to beat sixty and said "I like it but I need some bubble water." Bless his heart. Not even three and asking for seltzer to calm a chili-peppered tongue. He did not want a second bite.
On a completely random, trashy-town note, why do I find USWeekly such fun to read? It is just beyond gross for the most part. The dramatization is unreal, and why are some folks famous when they haven't actually done anything besides get pregnant and/or a lot of plastic surgery before turning 25? Hmm. Is this escapism pure and simple? Perhaps. And nothing wrong with that because right before bed, Ol pooped in his undies and it about made me die. Not a small poop friends, a really big one at a really isn't-this-day-done-yet kinda time. Me, oh my.