March 14. Breakfast, Lunch and Dinner. Another day of leftovers and a grilled cheese sandwich too.

A basic truth of living alone and cooking for multitudes is that there are times when I am eating meal after meal of leftovers and refrigerator snackings.

Coffee this morning.

Lunch--leftovers with a bit of flair.  Heated up some caramelized onions that I hadn't put in the frittata with the leftover roasted tomatoes with garlic--throwing in some ribbons of basil as well.

Sliced some sharp cheddar cheese and made a grilled cheese sandwich.   For many years I did the lo-fat variation--but now I almost always just fry up the sandwich in the cast-iron skillet--just means a little more butter--and since I don't like all that much cheese, it seems like a fine compromise.  I often slip in a slice or two of onion or tomato--but today just had the cooked onions and tomato brew on the side.

I ate this lunch quite properly at table, but here's sandwich and tomato mixture snuggled in cast iron pan.

John, intrepid hair-cutter called at 2pm.  He's been cutting my hair since Sam and I discovered him at Super-Cuts well over a decade ago--he gave Sam his first proper middle school haircuts as we zipped from school bus to soccer practice.  (Oh long store there, of course).

He now has his own tiny spot in Santa Monica---where he excels in quick inexpensive haircuts and conversation.  The basic rule for John is you have to make a reservation about six weeks in advance.  Due to my wanderings, I often fail at this--and when I do he does try to find a cancellation.  And indeed just as my hair was crossing the line into unbearable--he had an appointment for me at 3.  I zipped right over.  I had already signed up for a yoga class at 5:30--just around the corner from John--which meant I had an hour and a half to while away in Santa Monica.  

There I was in the Von's parking lot so what could I do but take a whirl through through the store--not one of my regular haunts--but you never know where you might be surprised by a sale or sample taste.

My refrigerator has been stuffed all-too-full of late--but somehow, lured into the meat department I bought two steaks--ridiculously reduced (manager's special of items about to go bad, bad, bad).

I came home with two steaks--a little organic New YOrk strip steak and immense tri-tip--I'd thought the tri-tip was stew meat, but have since learned it's a steak--a very big steak indeed. 

The steaks sat in the car (it was gray and cool--I had no fears it would get closer to complete expiration), while I had a cup of coffee and read the Times at the Funnel Mill Cafe--with its cult of most superior coffee and dark brown leather couches, and elegant cups-it felt a million miles from the Von's just across the street.  Of course, in one of those accidents that could happen to anyone, anywhere, the server, delivering my lovely tray of coffee with its adorable milk pitcher, somehow slipped, spilling milk (but not coffee) all over my paper.  Many apologies ensued--and no harm was done--but it did undercut the luxury/indulgence factor.

And so the afternoon zipped by.  Returned home with my steaks after the yoga class.  I was famished--no time to think about those steaks.  I heated  up the left-over chicken with roast potatoes and carrots.  Threw in the little bit of broccoli that had escaped being prepared earlier in the week.  It was the last possible moment for that particular green but a few squeezes of lemon brought it back to life.

I righteously had an apple for dessert--and then not quite so nobly had a few hits of peanut butter and jelly from their respective jars as I was cleaned the kitchen.  And, to add to the theme of noble user of all left-overs, transformed the last week's  the vegetable broth into a chicken broth with the bones from the now almost completely eaten chicken.