I may have mentioned in the past that mon mari’s least favorite dinner night is Friday.
Or so he says.
We have fish or seafood on Friday – because that’s the day I do the shopping and I like it fresh.
He maintains that he ‘hates fish’ although I have proof that he doesn’t. I’ve even seen him order it in restaurants on (a rare) occasion.
I maintain that he just enjoys making a fuss.
I’m pretty sure that he would rather be home with me and the girls, making a fuss over this dish than where he is – but more on that in a minute.
For now – enjoy this shrimp with a Mediterranean flavor: capers, lemon, feta, black olives, served on lemony orzo.
Easy and ready in under half an hour.
Shrimp with Capers, Lemon, and Feta on Orzo
Total time: 25 minutes
- 12oz (360gr) shrimp, cleaned
- 1 medium leek, trimmed and sliced
- 1/2 red pepper, chopped
- 1 lemon, juiced – 4 tbs juice, divided
- 2 tbs capers
- 15 Greek dry-cured olives, roughly chopped
- 3oz (90gr) feta cheese, crumbled
- 3 tbs fresh parsley, chopped
- 1/2 tsp paprika
- 3 tbs good olive oil, divided
- 1/2 cup (4.5oz, 130gr) orzo
- Cook orzo in rapidly boiling water according to package directions. Drain.
- Toss orzo 1 tbs lemon juice and 1 tbs olive oil.
- Heat 2 tbs oil, paprika in a large skillet.
- Add leeks, pepper and sauté until tender, about 7 minutes.
- Add shrimp, cook until they curl and turn opaque.
- Add 3 tbs lemon juice, capers, olives and stir to combine.
- Remove from heat and stir in feta, parsley.
- To finish:
- Divide orzo onto two plates.
- Top with shrimp and juices
Today did not go according to plan.
We didn’t have a complicated plan: run a few errands, do the weekly shopping, work in the gardens a bit if it was nice and have a leisurely dinner.
But mon mari stubbed his toe and the whole day went to hell.
Okay, he stubbed his toe last week and one of our errands was to see his doc, but we hadn’t quite planned on what happened.
His doctor wasn’t available.
We thought there might be an infection so we wanted to get a prescription for the nurse to come and treat it over the weekend rather than wait. Diabetics take stubbed toes seriously.
We went to Urgence (emergency) to sort it out, thinking it would be easy to get the prescription we needed.
We forgot that we were in France.
Everyone at Urgence was very nice, told us we had done the right thing, and so on.
But they wouldn’t let mon mari leave.
I could go but he had to stay.
Nothing serious, they said, but we like to be careful. We’d like someone with more experience to look at it.
We’ll come back, we said.
Non, I could leave but mon mari had to stay.
They discussed among themselves whether or not he should go to one of the larger hospitals in one of the bigger cities, with more experts.
I left during the discussion. I knew what was coming and went to do the shopping – with a new list. I needed to pick up the things he would need for the hospital; things like peanut butter and cereal bars and stuff to eat in the middle of the night when he needs food.
When I got back, an hour later, there was no place to park within 5 blocks of the hospital…. nowhere, not even the train station.
I parked and walked. I’d been doing a lot of parking and walking.
By the time I got to the hospital I had blisters on both feet (nice day, first time summer shoes, no socks….). I hobble along to Urgence only to have mon mari whistle at me from a window on the second floor.
He had a room.
I turn around and hobble back to the hospital entrance, then go in search of his room…. And a nurses station to see if I could get two band-aids.
One would think getting a band-aid in a hospital would be easy.
One would think finding a patient’s room in a hospital would be easy.
One would be wrong on both counts.
After much to-ing and fro-ing and tiptoe-ing (to relieve the pain on my blistered heels) I finally found a nurse with band-aids. Of course she couldn’t just give them to me… I had to sit and allow her to clean my wounds and put the band-aids on herself.
I certainly couldn’t have been trusted to do it. Well, I obviously couldn’t be trusted to choose appropriate footwear, so draw your own conclusions.
While she was tending my feet, mon mari stuck his head around the corner looking for me.
After catching each other up on recent events, I left, again, with a list of what to get from home.
Two hours later I’m back, again, with all the goodies (DVD player, DVDs, Kindle… and a few items of clothing)
I get to his room and they won’t let me in. (They were inserting the tube with the antibiotics and, for some reason, I wasn’t allowed to watch.)
They questioned my identity, I convinced them that I was acceptable and I was left standing in the hall.
I was tired of standing…. I had stood for hours earlier in Urgence, I didn’t want to stand anymore.
I sat down on the floor and started to read.
Two minutes later someone comes along and tells me I can’t sit there.
The floor is dirty, I’m told. One mustn’t sit on it.
Right… This to someone who rolls around on the ground with two big dogs.
I stand up.
Someone brings me a chair.
Much laughter coming from mon mari’s room…. What are they doing in there?
He always manages to get cute, 30-something female doctors….
Finally I’m allowed in, meet the cute doctor and find out all appears to be fine (still) but the expert would be there in the morning to give the final opinion.
Mon mari may be allowed to leave as early as tomorrow afternoon.
To put all this in perspective, out-patient or one-day surgery here usually requires at least one overnight in the hospital. That way you are where they want you to be when they want you to be there.
It’s all about control.
I am about to pour myself a very controlled amount of wine…. Into the biggest glass I can find.
It was a long day.