It's probably obvious. But in case you didn't know it. I can be a sentimental fool.

I can get weepy at the silliest things. Yet actual physical pain barely phases me. When I broke my jaw in Sonoma last year I drove all the way home to Los Angeles barely registering the massive injury I had sustained. I had to hold my jaw in place with my hand, but I didn't cry.

But say clafouti to me, and I begin to tear up. Mis-pronounce it and watch the tears flow.

That's because my mother had her very special way of pronouncing some words. Clafouti was one of those words. Now she had a pretty good grasp of the French language, but she could not get the emphasis on the proper syllable in clafouti. Of course there was no correcting her. She wasn't the type of person who took criticism well. She would just stare at you blankly like she had no idea what you were talking about. So when she had a way of saying a word, well that's the way a word would be said forever. Don't get me started on schedule. I may start balling and never stop!

This is Day 3 in my week long tribute to my mother and her cooking. She may be gone, but thanks to a collection of her recipes my brother compiled after her death, her spirit lives on in pages of delicious memories from my youth.

This rarely happens.

Okay, it’s the beginning of halibut season on the west coast.

Okay. That happens every year this time of year. That’s not what I meant when I said, “this rarely happens”. I had something else in mind entirely, if you’ll just stay focused.

Because whenever it’s the beginning of halibut season you can bet your pretty butt I buy halibut. But I bet you do that too, so it seems I am digressing… fast.

What I am trying to say is… it’s the beginning of halibut season on the west coast (oh wait, did I already say that??)

Okay, may I start over? Thank you. It is the beginning of halibut season on the west coast. Oh, that is a strong jolt of déjà vu I am having right now. Oh no. No, it’s not déjà vu; it’s me digressing again.

My real point is: halibut, when I see it; in season, wild caught, a Seafood Watch “Best Choice”. Well, I buy! That’s why there was a big hunk in my refrigerator.

Which brings me to the thing that rarely happens. See, I had a point to these ramblings all along!

I have got to snap out of it! It's the eleventh day of the New Year and I have yet to really cook! I mean turn the oven on cook! I mean use my brain cook! I mean the kind of cooking that puts the neighbors to shame!

The cold poached Asian pears from yesterday are fabulous, I am not saying they are not. In fact we are enjoying them over vanilla ice cream tonight. But as delicious as they are, they are not really cooking. I am a tough judge and even tougher on myself than I am on other people.

So I gotta admit, tonight I am not really cooking– again! Yep, it's default pasta night at Sups! house. And though it is one of my favorite nights of the week I am not really burning any barns here. No wheels are being re-invented.

Still, I promise you it's going to be tasty. Afterall the popularity of default pasta night lies in the fact that it's a sure fire shortcut to success.