Yesterday I was thinking about clams, something I do infrequently. I pondered where sayings like, "Happy as a clam" and "he clammed up" came from. How does one decide that clams are happy? Does one interview them, study their facial expressions, hold them against one's ear and listen for laughter? "Clamming up," however, is self-explanatory. Which leads me to salmon, which led me to pistachios. My long-suffering wife was preparing a gourmet dish for Sunday salmon which called for a half cup of pistachios. I asked if I could help and she said, yes, I could shell out a half cup of the tasty nuts. I happily set to it and began sweating as I tried knives, hammers, a rolling pin, and pliers trying to pry open those suckers, with very limited success. I finally resorted successfully to thumbnails and brute strength as I channeled my anger into action. And forthwith retired from my "helper" role. (By the way, the salmon recipe was glorious. And next time we'll buy shelled pistachios.)
