The Dirty Dish is really dirty today. Pieces of some sort of organic matter are clinging to the sides. I suppose it’s time for a good wash, but we should first examine what’s been messing up The Dish. It would appear that we have a generous array-o-crap that has been floating around my head with no general purpose or direction. So today, kids, that’s what you’re gonna get.



As you may or may not know, I am a super fan of sushi. I crave the stuff in my sleep. However, I am also one who tries to eat a healthy diet devoid of anything processed and white, such as white bread, white pasta, white rice — you get the idea. The key word is “tries.” I am not always successful.



Imagine my joy when strolling through Metropolitan Market the other day I discover a spicy tuna roll made with brown rice! While it is most definitely not the same, it is tasty and hits the spot.  Noshing on this sushi leaves me room on occasion to be bad and pick up a Fujiya Roll at Stadium Thriftway. Get there at 11 a.m. and the sushi is still room temperature. Heaven …

Speaking of things brown, you are not going to believe this one. The husband turned 35 last week, and we celebrated with a little barbeque with friends and family. Our friends, Jim and Leigh Ann warned me (with much mischievous glee) two weeks ahead of time that they wanted to make the cake. One caveat to this, she’s vegan and vegan pastries scare me.  But then I thought, that’s cool, less for me to do. If it sucks, blame her.



On the party evening, I get home from work about 7:15 (I’ll address this horrible timing next) and lo in the middle of my kitchen table was a crap cake; a chocolate cake that looked like a HUGE pile of crap. This “cake” came complete with nuts, corn and flies (plastic, thank God). I kid you not. And the scariest part was this vegan cake was the bomb, chocolate globs of heaven, even with the corn.



I made the big mistake of having this barbeque on a weeknight with people showing up before I even got home. When I did arrive, it was like children pulling at apron strings wanting to be fed. 



My poor planning was not their fault, but if we hadn’t done it that night, we would have had to have the party Friday night, which would conflict with my romantic get-a-way to the lake over the weekend. I am nothing if not occasionally selfish.



The fishing sucked this weekend. Everything else was great including, you guessed it: crock-pot cooking! I made a pork ragu that included a chopped onion, yellow pepper, carrots, mushrooms, fresh thyme, rosemary and oregano, Mustapha’s cured lemons, tomato paste, chopped tomatoes, red wine, lots of garlic and pork tenderloin served over pasta with fresh shaved parmesan and chiffonade basil. Started it at 12:30 p.m., went down to the dock for some fishin’ and salty dog sippin,’ took a nap, and ate around 7.



Good times.



Dessert this evening was all about Mason County. I made my way down Highway 3 toward Shelton to a local produce stand where I bought fresh blueberries and strawberries. Then headed back toward the lake where I stopped at the Olympic Deli on East Pickering Road for some Olympic Mountain vanilla ice cream. Fresh fruit and ice cream, how can you not love me? The husband did.



Now that I have cleaned some scraps of information from my head, I can make room for it to accumulate more tidbits for you and The Dirty Dish. Next week should be quite interesting, friends. My editor has asked the unthinkable of me and all my fellow Weekly Volcano scribes, and I must acquiesce. It could be fun, so stay tuned.



Eat out, Tacoma. We need your love.