Roasting 101?

First off, I don’t often buy magazines.   I like to read the fronts while standing in line, but rarely do I nab one.  However, because this one leapt off the shelf and refused to go on living without coming home with me, I simply could not say No.  You can almost always get me to do something by either  a) bribing with promises of food and beverage, or  b) threats of suicide.  So I ended up buying the darned thing and it’s turning out to be one of the best mags I’ve ever purchased.  Who knew things could be so simple?!

I can’t vouch for other issues, but this one is chock FULL of fantastic ideas and recipes.  And my favorite part?

Revolutionizing Dinner (One Table at a Time)

Seriously.  Seriously this is one of the most useful articles I’ve ever read.  They have four (ish) families all with different setbacks to cooking more regularly and healthily (BTW, “healthful”  is a word we invented to sound more scholarly in health and nutrition articles.  The words “healthy” and “healthily” have since been replaced with suspiciously similar terms “healthful” and “healthfully” which have proliferated to such a degree that the red squiggly line no longer shows up underneath them in my draft. Nice going, ENGLISH) and they send their “team” in or whatever and give them cooking and organizational tips and lots of cool stuff.  This article, I am realizing now at this moment, might have changed my life.  It’s gotten me so pumped to cook more and be active about it, hence the stupidly easy dinner I made tonight with virtually nothing in my fridge:

Rosemary chicken legs and thighs with carrots (BOO-YAH, MARTHA)

This chicken turned out *SO* DELICIOUS, and I’m not just saying that because I made it and I’m the only one here.  I’m pretty hard on myself when it comes to cooking.  But this?  Easy peasy, man.

Mix in a bowl:

Olive oil

Minced garlic or fresh cloves, chopped

Salt & pepper

Ground rosemary

Toss carrots and chicken pieces in mixture, put on a baking sheet and bake at 425 degrees for 30 minutes.

BAM.  DONE.  STUPID EASY.

This Week's Accomplishments, in Order of Appearance

• Executed Mom’s Famous Chili Recipe with flair and excellence.  On only the second attempt in my life I successfully combined the savory, hearty flavors of blow-your-top-off meat chili with bonafide sex appeal.  AND, as Brother so wisely informed, the gastrointestinal effects of chili become compounded over time.  I only wish I had some warning — between Bear and myself, sterilizing with flame thrower and a bucket of acid became imminent in the W.C.

BAM.

• Successfully — and by “successfully” I mean “without mishap, disaster, or crying babies” — baked corn muffins to go with hot chili.  I ate three, the Boy devoured four or five (I lost count), and the warm butter and honey were *the* perfect accompaniment.  Eat that, June Cleaver.

WOMP.

• Found The Zone for a quick minute getting lost in this pretty tree.  The first of those around my “office” building to succumb to the dipping nighttime temperatures.  I was rather swept away!

• Conquered this morning’s breakfast like a true champ, only breaking one yolk of six.  Those are much better than my previous odds.  Luckily, I was feeding barbarians who don’t eat, but merely initiate shoveling.  Plus, everything tasted so damn good one broke yolk didn’t make much difference.  Nobody cried, nobody went for the jugular, no feelings got hurt.  Just warm full bellies and an endless stream of rich roasty coffee with a gallon of half and half.  Is there anything better?  MmmmYeahNo.

<Insert gratuitous yolk joke>

• Lastly, with not aforementioned ferocious spacial reasoning skills, I wrangled my shitty computer desk into submission.  If I’ve never talked about it before, sitting — anywhere, any time, in any fashion for longer than fifteen minutes — is murdering me slowly with plaguing determination.  I was in a car accident in late March and ever since, my neck, back, and shoulders have been an utter wreck (no pun intended), and sitting sets off all forms of pain, sharp and dull, in one or all of these areas.  I’m working on getting a standing desk for work — the guy in the shop next door is building me one out of an old door — but my home desk, if you’d even call it a desk, has been an additional problem.  But voila!  A genius new setup where I can stand and blog and not regret every bit it of when I’m done.  Now THAT’S an effing victory, Son.

BOO-YAH sucker!!!

It Was Inevitable

I can't believe it took me so long to get one of these.

I am so beside myself.  And Ma's gonna freak out -- She's gonna be like, "I can't believe

it took you so long to get one of those!" and I'll be like, "I know!  How is it even possible!" 

and she'll be like, "I don't know how it's even possible!"  

I knew it was inevitable when the Boy said, "Oooo you know what sounds good?  Some mashed 

Who's the Bomb?

THIS girl.

.  Fresh mozzarella balls in olive oil and herbs
.  Garlic stuffed olives
.  Olives soaked in Italian herbs
.  Seasoned sweet tomates
.  Dolmas
.  Sweet and spicy cherry peppers
.  Swiss cheese slices, Amish
.  Fresh made spinach dip
.  Sliced fresh cucumber, striped
.  Pita bread, quartered
.  Concannon 2009 Pinot Noir
.  Fresh peach, room temperature, sliced

It Seems My Best Meals

are those made when nobody else is around.

Confession: I'm Not Just the Operator

Tart Grass Delight
1 bunch Wheat Grass
1/2 can chunked pineapple

Pulverize, let drain into a cup
Stir with spoon to mix

*Very energizing, so be careful


Mary's Twin Sister
Canned tomatoes
2 carrots
2 celery stalks
1/4 cuke

Pulverize, let drain into a big cup
Stir with spoon to mix
Add fat splash Tabasco
Dash salt
Dash pepper

*This one just about blew my nuts off

My Mother Has Since Disowned Me

Mom:  All I can say is this: First, she moves to Treehuggerville . . . Then lands a job with a biofuel company . . . And now THIS.  Every Republican mother's nightmare . . . a juicer.  A JUICER?  That's bad enough, but WHEAT GRASS?  There's the frosting on THAT heartbreak cake.  Say it isn't so, Pea!  What next?  An effin' Smart Car?????

Me:  If it's any consolation, both the juicer and the wheat grass are Will's . . . I'm just the operator.

Mom:  Yes, but YOU allowed it in your domicile.  GUILTY!  And, you kiss the lips that DRINK wheat grass juice.  Me?  I'd rather eat puke cookies.

No Good Can Come From This . . .

Yep. It's One of Those Nights.

My nightly smorgasbord of delectable treats.

Tonight's winners:

TJ's Sweet Basil Pesto smoked sausages, sugar snap peas, carrots, cuke, and Version II of Dill Dip.

Oh, and wine -- the most important part!

Cheers!

Time To Be Serious About Happy

My coworker asked me the other day if I'm a vegetarian.  I laughed.  I'm a true Omnivore at its finest (and I'm convinced a Meat-O-Saur in a past life).

"No.  Are you?"

"No.  Just wondering.  You always have lots of vegetables in the fridge."

I told him that I just really like vegetables, and my low blood sugar is more stable if I eat well.  In truth, I was tickled he asked such a question.  Not normally the type to ask people about life things.  He nodded and agreed and busied himself further on his computer.  And that was that.

Though I don't consider myself a health nut by any means.  But, sometimes all I want to do in the whole entire world (times ten) is be in my kitchen and chop a bunch of vegetables and drink a glass of wine and munch on crisp tasty roughage and mix up a yummy Dill Dip and nibble on a polska and some hummus and get happy from the wine and the involvement of it all.  That can be so deeply satisfying, there ends up being nothing else I really want out of my day.  It's accomplishment.

And maybe it's mostly the wine, but I am perfectly okay with that.  I tell you what, I can't think of a time when wine doesn't make me giddy and elated, and I am sure my friends who partake passionately in the vino feel the same way.  I've started to question why I don't incorporate this into my daily life.  Besides work, and, well, driving a car.  But other than that, I think I need to take getting buzzed on a regular basis much more seriously.

The Grand MoMare Adventure

         A (painfully)  

Short Story

<ahem>

She arrived.

We ate heartily

nom

and drank (very dramatic) cups of coffee.

We lazed about and chit-chatted

 boop

and sat on sidewalks drinking tea

and swilling beer.

 We got to peruse many a-menu

 because that's what happens

when you eat a lot and are daunted

by giant flatware.

 RAWWRRR

We had fantastic hair

and gesticulated wildly

and made funny faces in public places

  until we nearly peed from laughter.

And even though we felt exhausted at times

oy

that didn't stop us from admiring the flowers

 I think those are weeds

eating radishes the size of baseballs

womp

and flaunting our fantastic bosoms.

yowza

The End.

Poppy, Polka Dots & an Array of Wedge-Tables

New Favorite Color: Poppy
  (not-so-incoincidentally the color of my new cardigan)

New Favorite Day: Thursday (because it often feels like
   Friday but without the hype)

New Favorite Color to go with my New Favorite Color: Taupe



           Happy Administrative Professionals Day?
           Wish I'd known beforehand.
           I might've asked for something.




                                Like a raise.


Just hearing the word "deli" makes me feel excited.
                                                       


     Get Lost
     .in a book.
     .in a moment.
     .in a day.
     .in time.
     .in a feeling.
     .in a gaze.
     .in an embrace.

Why is it so sad when a grocery store closes down?  A gift shop, clothing store, restaurant -- When these places close it is very sad indeed, but something about a grocery store feels much worse, cuts far deeper in an intimate way.  Is it because they symbolize health, life, vitality?

Grazing 101

1. Assortment of vegetables (any and all varieties)

2. One delicious dip (no, that's not what I call the Boy)

3. Something surprising on the side (in this case, a nice stuffed olive and a crossword puzzle)

4. Rinse, chop, dip, eat (say that ten times fast!)
5. Repeat as necessary (Voila.)

     WOAH. Watch where you're pointing

                                                         that thing.

From: Ma
To: Daughter
Subject: No subject. WHAAAAAT????!!!

Even on a good day, my George Jetson (thank you, dear and well-meaning, husband for yet another bit of technology WAAAAYY too advanced for this pathetic pea-brain) Stove of the Future Model 4000 is one. Hot. Mo'. Fo'. And hard to handle (read: can't walk away for a second = yes, I've burned/burnt? a few things). Factor in a fever, dizziness, the aggravation of calling off work for the second day, a certain little dog (who shall remain anonymous) nipping at my heels, trying to get 100% of my attention 100% of the time and, AND the (very entertaining) In Style makeover link (sent to me by a certain Pea), and what we have is a bona fide recipe for disaster, causing whatever it was I WAS cooking to be completely forgotten. . . Well, suffice it to say, I'm lucky I only burned up one pan of ground meat and not the entire kitchen. . . scarier than the possibility of dying in the near-miss fireball is that I look really, REALLY good in Kate Hudson's hair.

Smile, Eggin, You're on the Net!

Oh, and Mom is up to more mischief.

I know, I know . . . What else is new?

Today's indulgence:

(among others)

Cheesy fried potatoes with garlic,

hot sauce, and other spices.

(Really, I'm just tickled they

got done all the way through.

A momentous occasion, it is!)

NOM NOM.

Right now:

English Breakfast tea with a splash of half and half
The sweet muses of Fleet Foxes
Bear cuddled up in bed with his nose glued in a book
Not one, but two pairs of wool socks


Totally twitterpated over:

New kitchen arrangement
Mineral oiled butcher block countertop
A certain red hoodie
Florence Welch

                                                                      Five dollar
   Fake tulips                  polka-dotted hen (!)

This spectacular lampshade I

happened upon at Goodwill

Thank you, day.