Tuna and swordfish ceviche

The other day I finally made it to the hairdressers. I was greatly in need, my hair was extremely grateful.

Saying I dislike going to the hairdresser is an understatement. What seems to be a national passtime here in Italy, especially among the older gals, is something I dread. I mean, when you have a job and kids, the last thing you want to do is waste away your precious Saturday sitting at the hairdressers fighting throngs of other women. I can think of so many other things to do in those hours. Like stuffing some of the clothes overflowing from my laundry basket into the washing machine. Or running an errand. Or making a meal in daylight that I can actually post about. Or, so much better, spending the afternoon at the park with my family and maybe eating some sushi for lunch. Even pulling the fuzz balls off of my wool sweater has more appeal to be honest.

Besides hating to wait around for hours even if I have an appointment, I feel like a Christian in the Colosseum fighting off lions the girls insistently offering manicures, pedicures, special treatments, hair masks or their $50,00 bottles of shampoo and conditioner.

Not to mention going to a decent hairdresser is an expensive affair and you usually purposely mess up what you just paid for with your own hands the minute you turn the corner. And that on your walk home you realize every other woman has your hue of golden blond with warm highlights. I mean, is it just here that every woman over sixty seems to have the same puffed up bad hair color with blonde highlights that look like they were painted on by a road line marking machine?

Unfortunately the older you get the harder it is to walk around in your bed hair and to be taken seriously in life. Another unfortunate thing is that when you turn *beep* you have  a new problem to deal with, or rather a new color. White.

Why do men "grey"? Why do they get to call their white hair appealing things like pepper and salt or speckled? Why do George Clooney and Richard Gere just get sexier?

When a woman gets white hair, it is the beginning of the end. It is all downhill from there. They even dedicated a whole episode of Sex and the City to Samantha's discovery down south.

And why is the only white hair I have located exactly on the top of my head, where my hair parts, sticking up obnoxiously for the whole world to see, just in case people hadn't already noticed its annoying, wiry, thick texture. Couldn't I have more, but strategically hidden on the sides, under layers of youthful  hair? Not me, nuh-uh. My scalp seems to be saying: we ain't got much, so we might as well boast it.

So this is the story of when I went to the hairdressers to hide those little suckers and for the first time (because it wasn't a Saturday and I wasn't in a rush and because I had said no enough times) decided to go with the flow and have the half hour treatment to pamper my hair with nutrients and such.

And lo and behold I discovered a new world. The lady I was assigned to put on Barbra Streisand from an IPad lying next her station, she pulled out a foot rest from the chair I was sitting in and pushed a button that got the rollers going in what I discovered was a massage chair (I instantly felt like Sally hanging out with Harry in The Sharper Image). She then proceeded to massage a personalized concoction into my hair and I decided to enjoy it for the few mintues it lasted.

Little did I know the massage would last the whole half hour of hair mask. The woman massaged my head, my neck, my shoulders, my face. She even massaged my ear lobes! Who even knew ear lobes liked massages? Well, let me tell you, they do. 

When it was over, not only did the camouflaged white hair make me look 5 years younger, I also felt a decade younger. Lady, why didn't you just tell me I would get a free massage with my hair treatment???

Because I am still feeling good, and because I am trying to improve my eating habits and lose a few pounds these days, my recipe today is a healthy and tasty dish that is good for the body and soul.

Ceviche, as I am sure most of you know, is a Central-South American seafood dish prepared cooking the fish in citrus juice, usually lime, instead of heat. It is often accompanied by fresh cilantro (coriander), chili peppers and raw vegetables like onions, avocado etc. I left out the heat factor for my kids and used tomatoes, small green peppers, cucumbers and chives to make it as refreshing and light as possible. I also added a tablespoon of dried unsweetened coconut and a pinch of banana chipotle salt from  Farm Candy to give it a tropical hint and a teeny touch of heat. You can really play around with ingredients and quantities, so I am only giving you guidelines. Use any vegetable that appeals to you, or none for that matter, choose your favorite citrus (I am partial to lime), pick any fish you like but make sure it is very fresh.

This will make a great appetizer served with some toasted bread or tortilla chips or a healthy salad for lunch.

Pasta with swordfish & toasted pistachio and breadcrumbs

I consider myself a positive and pretty optimistic person. My glass is mostly half full, not half empty. I usually wake up with a smile and like to look at what is good in my life rather than what isn't.

Today, however is an especially good day. A celebration of coming home.

This morning I got a phone call from my close friend Y. Some of you may remember my post mentioning her husband was being readmitted to the hospital to fight his ongoing battle against leukemia last month. She called to tell me that after a cycle of chemio and more, he is on his way home right now as I write. This guy is going back home to his wife, his two little children and all that is familiar to him. No more IVs, no more sterile room, just rooms full of toys, the everyday disorder of a house full of kids, laughter and love. Nothing sterile there.

There is no feeling in the world like coming home. I am sure he would agree if you asked him that. The feeling of being somewhere where everything is familiar, from the books to the photographs to the smell. Have you ever noticed how all homes have a unique smell? Home is where you can walk around in the dark and not bump into any furniture (unless you are pregnant). Home is the place where you know where each and every crack and worn spot is, those tiny imperfections that your guests may not notice but that scream out to you every time you walk into a room.

But coming home is also in the embrace of the person you love after a bad day in the office or an argument you had the day before (wait, didn't we all swear we would never go to bed angry at each other?).

Coming home is the feeling of familiarity you have walking through streets where you recognize faces, stores and sounds even if you have been away for a long time.

Home is watching your red-cheeked, open-mouthed children sleeping in their beds, on an airplane, in a car or anywhere, as long as you are there together.

Home is unexpectedly tasting something you haven't had since your grandmother made it for you when you were a child and that you have never been able to recreate in your own kitchen.

Coming home is wonderful, it is the feeling of being safe and loved like nowhere else, and we must never take it for granted, even when we are itching to go.

What is home for you?

This dish may have tasted a little like home to F, with its flavors so reminiscent of the Mediterranean. It is full of the sun, the sea and the colors of the islands.

I was inspired by a tray of swordfish in pieces at the market. I usually do not buy things that are prepared in advanced or pre-cut, say pre-filleted chicken breast or pork loin, because they are much more expensive and often not  as appealing. However the idea of cooking with what were probably the trimmings from perfectly cut fish filets and the less noble parts did appeale to me. First of all, with wild fresh fish costing as much as it does, you don't just go out and buy four huge swordfish or tuna stakes for a simple week night dinner with the kids, if you know what I mean. Plus, I felt it was an environmentally friendly choice to use up all parts of the animal, those parts that are discarded just because they aren't the right width or shape. When you are making a pasta sauce, you want the tastier, fattier part of the fish and you will be needing smaller pieces anyway. I will keep my eyes open for these cuts from now on.

Elba part 3 - Triglie alla livornese e pesce spada impanato (red mullet livornese style and sword fish with bread crumbs)

My little one is napping and my oldest is drawing the ferry boats she sees passing from the balcony with her cousin. I am about to help my mother-in-law clean 1.5kgs of fresh anchovies my father-in-law bought right off a boat here in the port for the astounding sum of €3! I am lying on the couch reading my favorite blogs and the comments you left me. The sun is shining, sailboats glide by and I am at peace with the world. Life doesn't get much better and I am appreciating every minute of it.