Bouillabaisse

Bouillabaisse is one of the hardest words in the language to spell. But maybe that's because it's not in the language -- not in our language I mean. It's one of those snotty French words, and those people seem to have nothing better to do than sit around and make up stuff that's hard to spell.

But I thought I'd better spell it right because today I'm going to eat some. Julie and I are taking turns cooking, and even though we're not actually competing or anything, we're both doing our best. Last night I made a chicken curry straight from heaven, with whole pieces of chicken (rather than shredded), unpeeled yams, and organic carrots. And today Julie is out in the kitchen making bouillabaisse.

Rachel's been rehearsing with her cohorts every day in Port Townsend. We take her there and pick her up. At night she comes home to her parents, and we have a delicious dinner and then adjourn for the YouTube film festival, with Rachel as M.C. It was while watching one of the great YouTube features, "Exploding Whale" last night, that Julie got the idea to make bouillabaisse today, I think. The video is news footage of an expired California gray whale which washed up on the beach in Florence, Oregon in 1970. The county Department of Public Safety or Sanitation or whatever couldn't figure out how to dispose of the carcass, and finally decided -- very foolishly as it turned out -- to blow it to pieces with dynamite. The local newsman's dry and understated commentary on this fiasco makes a hilarious mockery of bureaucratic hubris and incompetence in the face of the unknown and unwieldy.

I don't know what I'll cook next, but some sort of Anglo-flavored Mexican spread might be in order. Or maybe I should just go on YouTube and look for ideas.