Shell’s Seafood Pasta
Where my parents live is not a lot like Kuwait, but is alike in one wonderful way – Seafood! I grew up on the water. Shrimp and crab, oysters, clams – all were cheap and plentiful.
I would like to tell you that this is my original recipe, but it isn’t. It is served at a chain of restaurants in Florida called Shells. If you get a chance to go there, go! Everything is delicious, and the prices are reasonable. This is not your white tablecloth kind of restaurant; it is a down-home kind of place, full of families and children, and truly delicious food.
SHELLS SEAFOOD PASTA
Ingredients:
1 lb. Linguini, cooked and drained
1 oz. Butter
4 oz. Mussel meat
6 oz. Chopped clams
10 oz. Scallops, raw
12 oz. Peeled shrimp, raw
4 oz. Olive oil
4 oz. White wine
8 cloves Garlic, finely chopped
2 dashes Soy Sauce
16 oz. Heavy cream
Salt & pepper to taste
Directions:
1. Cook linguini in salted water with butter until al dente; drain and set aside
2. Combine olive oil, white wine, garlic, soy sauce, and cream in a sauce pan and bring to a boil.
3. Add cooked linguini and drained seafood mix. Sautee, stirring gently, for about 10 minutes, until seafood is done and sauce has creamy consistency. Serve in warm serving dishes with shredded parmigiana reggiano. Garnish with chopped parsley, if desired.
(You don’t have to use scallops – use chunks of grouper (hammour) or whatever white fish is plentiful. Substitute a fish stock for the white wine.)
Tash Ma Tash takes on Muttawa?
I love NPR. Today, in a Ramadan special, they discussed the 16th season of the Saudi Arabia soap Tash ma Tash. I remember it got a lot of attention a couple years ago. NPR says that this year, they are taking on the Committee for the Promotion of Virtue and Supression of Vice. There is a village where the morals police have determined that women should not be riding their donkeys on the same trails the men are, or that perhaps they should be fully enclosed in some kind of bubble, or maybe a special underground tunnel should be built solely for the use of women to keep them from view of the men.
Is anyone following this? National Public Radio also said that this year the topic was too hot for the official Saudi channel to handle, so it is being shown on MBC. I am not there – can you tell me how it is working?
Cutting Edge News in Kuwait
Watching the evening news tonight, as they discussed the possibility of another nuclear test by North Korea, they dramatically showed the night photo of North and South Korea featured in DonVeto’s blog, right here in Kuwait – FOUR days ago!
I’m still learning this linking thing. Click on the blue words below to go to the north/south Korea photo:
You saw it first here in Kuwait. And yes, Don Veto, your source was reliable. Way to go.
Brrrr…..
After a week of glorious warm, sunny days and cool nights, yesterday stayed foggy the entire day. It was the damp kind of cold that makes you want to be at home in front of a fireplace with a good book and a hot cup of coffee.
The Fraud Syndrome
When I finally got to graduate school, I was in shock. There was me, one other woman, and a classroom full of men. It might sound like heaven, but it was testosterone-city. We were studying national security affairs, a sub-group of International Relations, and most of my classmates were in different branches of the military.
My professor, a former military intelligence colonel, was knowledgable, and good at presenting his lessons. He was very professional, very businesslike. Not exactly cold, but neither was he collegial.
In any graduate courses, there is a whole new vocabulary to master. I felt like I had grabbed onto a train that was leaving the station; I was holding on for dear life. I read all my assignments, made sure I copies all my notes, and . . . never said a word in class for the first two weeks. I was too scared. All the guys were blah blah blah and I just hoped they wouldn’t figure out that I barely had a clue.
One of my fellow students came up to me on break. He was nice. He asked if I had seen a recent article in the paper on The Fraud Syndrome, and I said “no” that I hadn’t. He just happened to have a copy of it with him, which he gave to me.
Here is what Wikipedia has to say about the Fraud Syndrome:
The Impostor Syndrome, or Impostor Phenomenon, sometimes called Fraud Syndrome, is not an officially recognized psychological disorder, but has been the subject of a number of books and articles by psychologists and educators. Individuals experiencing this syndrome seem unable to internalize their accomplishments. Regardless of what level of success they may have achieved in their chosen field of work or study, or what external proof they may have of their competence, they remain convinced internally that they do not deserve the success they have achieved and are really frauds. Proofs of success are dismissed as luck, timing, or otherwise having deceived others into thinking they were more intelligent and competent than they believe themselves to be. This syndrome is thought to be particularly common among women, particularly women who are successful in careers typically associated with men, and among academics.
When time came to take our first test, I studied and studied. I knew I wasn’t getting any credit for participating in class, so I really needed a good grade on the test. I did my best. I hoped to pass.
When the professor gave us back our tests, he put the scale on the board. The lowest grade was a C-. I had passed! Even if I got the C-, I had passed! Then he started talking about all the mistakes, including one really bad one – a person who had used a quote, and the quote was not accurate.
My heart fell. I had quoted George Kennan on deterrence, quote marks and everything. I thought I had it word perfect, but I must have screwed it up. I was so embarrassed.
One paper, he said, had no red marks on it. He said he has never had a paper before on which he didn’t make a single correction, that this was a first in his history of teaching. I barely paid attention – I had passed, even if I blew the Kennan quote.
Yeh – the paper with NO red marks was mine. I thought there must have been some mistake, but the professor held me after class, and told me that for my next homework, he wanted me to speak up in class. And he congratulated me on the test. Only one guy guessed it was my paper with no corrections – the same guy who had told me about the fraud syndrome. Through our two years in grad school, we became good friends, and would share notes with one another if one of us had to be out of town on assignments.
It was October. I remember there was fog on the road, and a great big full round white moon glowing through the fog on my drive home. I had so much adreneline pumping through me that I howled “Wooooooooo Hoooooooooo!” at the moon that night.
Sunny, Crisp October
It’s been years since I have been in this part of the country in October. I’m busy hitting the stores for long-sleeved T-shirts, and a couple pair of non-sandal type shoes, and socks!
The mornings are very foggy. The fog burns off early in the afternoon, and the sky is a deep bright blue, against which the reds and burgundies, oranges and yellows of the leaves contrast brightly. My camera is always on the seat next to me, and I have thousands of photos of leaves. I can’t resist. It is so beautiful.
My good friend Barbara and I picked up take-out fish and went down to a park to watch the sun set over the mountains and water. It was a beautiful evening, a record hot day for October, and the beach was full of people, children, walkers, barbeque-ers – all out enjoying this rare autumn evening. But as soon as the sun went behind the mountain – BRRRRRrrrrrrrrr! A wicked cold wind arose, and we quickly finished and headed home again.
Fog
Carl Sandburg. 1878–
THE fog comes
on little cat feet.
It sits looking
over harbor and city
on silent haunches
and then moves on.
Public Art
My home town sponsors a huge Arts fest every year, raising hundreds of thousands of dollars, which they donate to different charities. Each year, in addition, they donate a piece of art to the community. I love this place. This is what I saw on the BeachWalk, about two miles of public path along the beachfront, punctuated with public art.
This is called the Whale Watchers
This is the breakwater wall, with shells, periwinkles, and sand patterns sculpted into it.
And this is my favorite:

