Just before bedtime last night, Ol jumped head-first into a window sill. I was fine until I saw his hand and Mom's upper lip and the tip of her nose covered in blood. She wasn't hurt but had kissed him, and I worried that at some point, his tears would pause, and he'd think, "Now why does Misse have a blood mustache and Rudolph nose?" I mimed that she may want to skedaddle to the bathroom and clean up.

All is fine now.

At the market yesterday was first-of-the-season halibut. The steaks were stunning, and I couldn't resist buying a large hunk, knowing it'd be spectacular with some mango salsa.

It was. The roasted asparagus with cumin-coriander aioli was lovely too, and the strawberry-rhubarb pie made me close my eyes after each bite, blissful.

My mom and dad have long had a set of double old-fashioned glasses that are etched with the inscription: Living Well Is The Best Revenge.

I think eating well is equally marvelous, and despite the harried pace I've lived of late, the quality of my dinners has not suffered one bit. Touché, Life.

Last night, Tom came home to find me outraged over the mixer. Because, the fucking frosting. You know when you dig in your heels about something, even if what you're digging in about is not remotely proportional to what you're digging in to?

Having done all the baking and made all the frosting, I just could not deal with more. No more than a 1x frosting recipe would I make! Not this gal. So I whipped up the damn 1x amount and then spread it atop the cupcakes in paper-thin whirls. Apparently, it and the minus-one-ingredient vanilla cupcakes were hits today. A win.

But anyway, T found me nearly apoplectic in the kitchen and suggested take-out. I nearly cut his nose off.

"T, the LAST thing I need right now is shitty take-out," asserted I. "I will figure something out, so help me god. I mean, the vegetables in our fridge need tending."

It was abundantly clear that he picked up on my madness (finally, I see what it takes) because the man offered to GO OUT TO Whole Foods and pick up something fresh.

Will wonders never cease?! I immediately agreed, lest he change his mind, and said that if he'd bring home some fish, I'd take care of the rest.

An hour later, we supped on plank-grilled salmon with a mustard-maple glaze and a mushroom and freshly-shucked English pea saute with Humboldt Fog, a marvelous ash-infused goat cheese from Cypress Grove Chevre. I delighted in smearing the cheese on slices of warm baguette and then spooning golden mushrooms and buttery peas over it all.

Revenge indeed.

Today, Ol wore his gaudy and wonderful Pot of Gold hat to school. I delivered the cupcakes, warned the teachers about the possible vanilla cupcake fail and hurried home to do many things that I don't recall now except for having started my Corned Beef and Cabbage for tonight.

I make this recipe every year, and every year, I love it that much more. When the boys got home, Jack said "it smells SO bad in here," and Ol said, "I just want cake!" and then Tom called and said, "I have a last-minute work dinner tonight," and I thought, "Well, revenge on all y'all because this girl gets your shares."

And I did.

Em-i-lis

Spring dinner, in anticipation of spring

Eating well

Tarts and the HuffPo

Em-i-lis

SUBSCRIBE & CONTACT

LOOK! READ! LISTEN!