Fair Warning

Changes are a-comin' to this here blog!

Breach will be moving to new digs within a matter of days (or maybe weeks).

We didn't want to go, as this space has treated us very well for 4+ years (and 600ish posts), but we don't have a choice—the technology we use to publish this blog will no longer be supported by Blogger as of May 1.

So . . . stay tuned for a change of address and, in the process, something of a new look. (The latter will be a work in progress, I imagine.)

Hope you'll come see us in our new home, and thanks in advance for your patience during and after the move.

While we have moved house more times than I care to count, I'm pretty sure that moving a blog requires an entirely different skill set.

But also—I hope—a lot less bubble wrap!

Herbie

Thinking of you, Dad, on what should have been your 84th birthday.

Many thanks to Neil for sending this photo of my Dad and me from the 1970s. (I love that my sweater almost matches his tie.)

The picture is currently in a frame on my bedside table.

It makes me smile every night.

Yes, It's Only April

But we've had sweet strawberries for a few weeks now, so I gave this recipe a try tonight:

Mixed Green Salad with Strawberry Dressing
I have to say that the comments are key on Epicurious—if I hadn't read them, I wouldn't have known to cut way down on the olive oil in the dressing. It's a very pretty salad, although Zach and I agreed that it was a bit unbalanced—my version needed more bite to offset the sweetness of the strawberries.

I made extra dressing, so I'll be able to experiment with adding that bite later this week. . . .

Missed It

Last month's 4.4 earthquake woke me up at 4AM.

Last week's 7.2 earthquake hit Baja, Mexico, in the middle of the afternoon—a long, rolling quake that turned our hanging candleholder into a pendulum—but didn't register with me at all.

I was in the shower and wouldn't have been the wiser if Zach hadn't shouted the news to me.

It's really just the strangest phenomenon. One of my colleagues, who lives across town, said it was long and strong enough to make him and his wife queasy, but a friend who was at the gym missed it entirely.

Last year, when Zach and I were rear-ended, we waited for the police, gave our statements, then drove to the hospital. In the five minutes that elapsed between leaving the scene of the accident, parking, and walking into the emergency room, there was an earthquake. Everyone in the ER was talking about it, and we had no idea it had happened.

I have felt at least four and missed about the same number (that I know of) between our time here and in the Bay Area.

For all I know, I'm missing one right now.

Although our candleholder isn't swaying. . . .

Action Shot

This is me grilling baby artichokes—certainly the first time I've ever made artichokes (baby or otherwise) and one of the only times (quite possibly the first) I've used our grill in the nearly seven years we've had it.


While my mom was here visiting, we took a day trip to Ojai (which I had previously known only as the hometown of the Bionic Woman). Turns out Ojai has a spectacular farmers' market, which last Sunday featured quite beautiful purple baby artichokes.

Inspired, I bought a bunch and then went searching for a promising recipe. I alighted on this one, only to discover that the first commenter offered a variation that nearly every subsequent commenter followed, so I did the same.

I had to look elsewhere for trimming instructions, and I had to do some substituting (balsamic instead of red-wine vinegar; dried basil, thyme, sage, and marjoram in lieu of herbes de Provence), but otherwise this was an easy, if multi-step, process. A recap:

1. Trim artichokes.


2. Simmer until tender.


3. Cool, then refrigerate until cold.


4. Marinate in vinaigrette.


5. Grill until lightly charred and warmed through.

So good!