The one where she completely forgot this blog existed.

HELLO! (HELLO...Hello...hello...hello...hello....)

IS ANYBODY OUT THERE? (...OUT THERE...Out there...there...there...)

...

I have a sh*t ton of food posts that I have been neglecting to post. Whoops. The thing is, it's so much easier and enjoyable to sit back and read other people's food posts and prepare dishes inspired by their magnificent food blogs than actually post my own.

Blegh.

But classes start next week, which means that I will naturally be looking for any and every way I can possibly procrastinate and devote my time to extracurricular activities instead of doing adult responsible things, so hopefully I'll get this ball rolling again.

See you soon?

Maybe I need to take a break from watching Cheers reruns at night.

Last night I dreamt that the Princess of Team Cuddle and I were being held hostage by a band of thugs that was led by Carla Tortelli.

PMS. It's an ugly business.

Today, I ate nearly an entire bag of kettle potato chips for breakfast, lunch and dinner. In a rare moment of self-control (baha) and penitence, I grabbed the remaining stash of chips I had left in the pantry and went to throw them in the garbage can. (Wasteful, I know... If there was a hungry, homeless person lurking outside, I would have given it to him.) But, somehow - and I don't even know how it happened - in the three feet of distance from our pantry to the garbage can, the bag(s) of chips somehow managed to turn themselves upside down in my hands and empty themselves in little crumblets all over the kitchen floor so that the simple two second sacrifical task ended with me on my knees sweeping up greasy potato chips with our little hand sweeper. There's a lesson in here somewhere.

Goings on.

Our lovely Texas forecast:

When does it end??? WHEEENNNN??!!! (Answer: October)

Schmooblebons left last Sunday for the next three weeks. Before he left, Schmoobs and I spent the afternoon running errands about town, which brought us at one point to Chipotle for lunch. Our Chipotle just happens to be located in the same shopping center as our PetSmart. And as we were pulling out of the Chipotle parking lot, I spotted in the distance the telltale signage on the side of a small bus that belonged to a local animal rescue center. So I suddenly exclaimed, "PETSMART ANIMAL ADOPTION DAY! PETSMART ANIMAL ADOPTION DAY!" And then after Schmoobs regained his composure and finished gently scolding me for making such wild sudden gesticular exclamations while he is driving, we ambled on over to PetSmart to coo at the sweet puppies.  The unofficial mascot of the shelter is a little weiner dog named Arlo who we had met at the last PETSMART ANIMAL ADOPTION DAY! and he is always a favorite with the public. He, surprisingly, did not get his injury from an accident or fight, but rather a degenerative disease that made his hindlegs useless :( But, man, does he get around on his wheels! Such a sweet, friendly doggie. He also looks pretty snazzy with his fringed denim vest.

After over 6 1/2 years together, Schmoobs and I took another step forward together by finally purchasing an actual dining table. Mainly, this was spurred by my desire to have a nice desk surface to work from since I would be spending much more time doing official business on the laptop and I learned after about two days that doing so from a reclined position on the couch resulted in searing wrist pain. Curses! So I did some research, found this nice set from Overstock, and sent the link to Schmoobs so he could buy it :) (He actually encouraged me to pick one out...I'm not that kind of a girlfriend.) Anyway, it's modest and clearly only built for two, but it looks really nice and is a pretty timeless design. I think maybe for our ten-year dating anniversary, we'll get around to buying a coffee table. And then maybe a bookshelf after we retire.

Story time! I was out getting breakfast groceries and going to the post office when the dining set packages were delivered. When I came home, Schmoobs was surrounded by a wild mess of cardboard, styrofoam, an assembled table and assorted chair pieces. He looked upset and crazed, and he explained to me that, while getting the delivery, our Princess of Team Cuddle had run out of the door and chased after the delivery guy who was by that point standing on the top flight of stairs heading back down. The delivery guy was totally aloof towards our sweet puppy and didn't seem to care that, in her excitement, she had started to slip on the stairs and was about two seconds away from falling down to the ground level of concrete...about thirty feet below. Schmoobles sprinted down and grabbed her collar before she plummeted to her demise. Meanwhile, he said all the delivery guy did was look down and nonchalantly say, "Your dog's slipping." UGH. Can you imagine?!?! I know it's not your dog or responsibility...BUT REACH DOWN AND GRAB HER FOR EFF'S SAKE!! 

Anyway. Schmooblets was so upset that he tore open the box and started to assemble the table before I got home to try and calm his nerves. And then I proceeded to ask him every eight hours, "So...when do you think you'll get the chairs assembled?" until I finally got bored and impatient enough one evening while he took a colossal fve-hour nap that I assembled them myself. It took me literally thirty minutes just to stare at the nonsensical wordless instructions enough that it finally made sense kind of. And I did it!! I am not exaggerating at all when I tell you that I was in the process of tightening the very last screw on the last chair when Schmoobs opened our bedroom door, rubbed his eyes, saw what I was doing and said, "Oh, hey, I can help you hon." BAH. I am woman! Hear me roar! And it's not because I'm PMS-ing!

The very first (and so far, only) meal we've eaten together on the new dining set was Sunday brunch before he left. That's toast with cream cheese and smoked salmon, eggs sunny side up on a bed of sauteed spinach and onions, organic chicken and sage sausages, grapes, smoked cheddar cheese and dees nutz. Schmoobs also got us some soy caramel macchiatos from Star*ucks while I cooked. He iz good boy.

And now that he is gone, and the summer semester is over and I am working from home, I am spending A LOT of time getting all creative and stuff in the kitchen. Consequently, I am spending a lot of time eating. But it's ok because I think I might be PMS-ing now so it's totally justified. My sister texted me several nights ago about these incredible potato chips she had that involved bleu cheese, balsamic vinegar and basil. So I decided to try it! This here is the epitome of everything I am supposed to not eat. Greek yogurt, goat cheese and bleu cheese. Again, I am PMS-ing and am not in control of my belly's desires.  

TA DA! Kettle chips with bleu cheese sauce, balsamic drizzle and basil. DELICIOUS. I consulted Google and it told me of one restaurant that serves this sort of thing but with sweet potato chips. Iiinteresting. I'll have to try it next time.

And then the other night I was sitting on the couch just pre-menstruating and generally not being productive (probably watching the Cooking Channel) and it dawned on me: What if you combined cream cheese and Nutella to make a cake frosting?! At the same time, I was also consumed by the fact that I had been craving lemon cake for about three days. So I set about baking a cake to serve as the vehicle for the Cream Cheese Nutella frosting. Here, from this morning, we have a Neapolitanish cake: lemon with orange marmalade swirled in, vanilla maple with almonds and dark chocolate and espresso. I haven't made the frosting yet but probably will later this evening.

The main reason I never got around to making the frosting this morning? Because as I had finished the cake batter and had the cake baking away in the oven, I went to tackle the mound of dishes that had been accumulating in the sink for the past two days. And right when I was down to the last thing, the glass mixing bowl, this effing slimy little baby lizard wiggled up at the speed of light from the bottom and ALMOST ATE MY FACE OFF. Ok, not really. It was small and harmless - and kind of cute - but it was really quick and unexpected and I squealed like a little baby while throwing around the giant glass bowl that was full of dirty batter water. It hung out in the sink ALL MORNING despite my every attempt to leave for half an hour at a time and come back in hopes that it magically disappeared. But no.

Finally, enough time had past and I had talked to the freaking baby lizard enough, "Hey. Go away. Go on, stupid lizard. Go. Leave." etc. that we kind of bonded and I decided that it would be cruel to grab the cat and make him eat it so I wouldn't have to deal with it. So I pep talked myself for about an hour while standing atop a chair so that I could keep an eye on the thing without having to get too close and finally managed to concoct a plan. I grabbed a large tupperware container and put inside it a basil leaf and a grape. What. I don't know, don't lizards eat green things?? And then I plopped it into the sink. And then I spent the next twenty minutes using water from the faucet and our kitchen dish brush to coax the little bugger ever closer ...and finally into the tupperware! And then I waited a long time for it to settle down at the bottom and stop moving so that I wouldn't come into risk of it making a sudden move TOWARDS JUMPING UP AND EATING MY FACE.

 

And then I popped the lid on the tupperware and quickly ran outside and to the back so I could deposit it out next to the lake. I assume that's where lizards like to hang out. I could have just plopped him outside the front door, but after all that time we spent together, I didn't want him to just go ahead and die from sizzling in the heat of the sun with no shade or water near enough. See what a good person I am?! I sacrificed the safety of my own face for this little baby lizard. I shook him out of the tupperware right next to the water by those trees and first thing he did was scamper out to the edge and jump kamikaze style Aieeeeee! into the water. YOU'RE WELCOME, LIZARD.

Anyway, I should probably try and do some more work now. Or maybe make that frosting.

An actual Sunday.

For the whole week - well, really the entire last...six years? - but mostly yesterday, I found myself typing and working and writing away on the computer thinking, "I wonder what it's like to have the type of job where you don't feel obligated to fill in any and all free time with more work. Like, as a musician, free time equals "more practice time." And as an educator, weekends equal "two days that you have to get ready for the next week of classes."

And, because the universe likes to times things just so, I found myself today answering a phone call from a friend (really the only real girl friend I have here in TX) who lives 45 minutes away, but who goes to church five minutes from where Schmoobles and I live, wanting to know if I was available to hang out after she was done with the service. So I opened up the computer, finished up the very last bit of work that I had to get done before tomorrow, vacuumed the condo, fed the animals, took a quick shower all in time for her to come over. And then I made some spinach, onion, tomato and goat cheese flat breads with egg and coffee and watched the season premiere of Big Brother (woot!). And then we meandered over to our fabulous neighborhood country club Rich People Swimming Pool where we managed to bypass the $100+/mo membership fees by slipping them $5 instead and spent the afternoon poolside drinking cocktails and eating nachos, people watching (i.e. judging) all the wealthy elite of our community with their pulled up brows and inflated chesticles and ill-mannered children. It was pretty entertaining.

Though it doesn't happen very often, being able to spend a day off as an actual day off and enjoying the good life, even if you are just playing pretend, is nice every once in a while. But, in a weird way, I'm grateful that it's not the norm. As I told my friend, you'd probably stop appreciating it after a while. Not us, though...

They take your drink orders from the adjoining bar/restaurant. And then serve it to you in the pool. Criminy!

Thank you, Cooking Channel.

Redundancy alert!

Spice Goddess: "This tamarind mango chutney is made with tamarind."

Also, I have lost six pounds in the last week. 10% from eating healthier the last five days. And 90% from NOT BEING ON MY PERIOD ANYMORE. Man, how many cheesy doodle poofs did I devour on my pre-menseseses week? It must have been impressive.

And since I'm talking about nothing in this post, I went out and got myself a pretty fantastic $7.50 (plus a 20% tip...) haircut yesterday. Beauty schools for this win! My student stylist even turned me on to the "secret" of hair scrubs for scalp and hair care. She used it on my hair instead of the usual shampoo and I seriously think it did just as much for my hair as the actual cut did. Anyway. Look into it if you're unhappy with your shampoo and feel like your scalp can use some warm fuzzy hugs.

TMI.

I literally weigh 2.5 pounds less this morning than I did last night. Helloooo coffee!

And on that note, I hope to post some more foodie stuff later tonight. Maybe a little something about roasting some vegetables (Heavy oven work. Perfect for when it's one million degrees outside, right?) or maybe something different. We'll see.

For now, it's a day of writing and testes testing. More on that later.

I ♥ Chipotle.

Did you know that Chipotle is committed to serving good quality fast-ish Mexican food while maintaining a standard of using naturally-raised, organic meat and sustainable, organic, local produce? I didn't until about a year ago. This knowledge comes very useful to Schmoobs and I now as, when the craving for meat strikes and I don't necessarily have the means to spend $30 on a pork chop at one of the TWO restaurants in town that serves meat that doesn't taste like sadness, we know we can go to Chipotle. We go about twice a month at this point. It's so freaking tasty. It's so tasty, in fact, that we went there for lunch yesterday and I'm still thinking about it. Hence, this post.

If you go, make sure to ask for extra corn on your burrito bowl or whatever. It's so good. Also make sure you don't look into the toilet after your subsequent visit to the little blogger's room. You'll totally see that extra corn all up in durr. (Sorry.)

Also, rumor has it that they are building an In-n-Out roughly two miles away from our condo. I would be happier about this if I hadn't had a Sad Meat Epiphany earlier this year. But, really, I don't like the idea of In-n-Outs sprouting up in Texas anyway. In-n-Out is a West Coast thing. End of story. Harumph.

* * *

Unrelated: Our Princess of Team Cuddle got her summer haircut makeover yesterday. She sat on my lap as we drove her back from PETCO and - either she was extra upset about having to go to the groomer and/or she was feeling car sick - she projectile vomited all over me as we were literally fifty yards away from home. As she started making the gagging sounds in preparation, I frantically looked around to try and grab a stray shirt or towel laying around Schmoobs' car, but there was nothing in sight. The only thing I could find to grab was...an empty Star*ucks clear plastic cup from the cup holder. I tore the lid off and held the thing to Princess TC's lurching head as Schmoobs, in the driver's seat, was howling wide-eyed in laughter and I was screaming "I HAVE NO CHOICE! I HAVE NO CHOICE!"

I managed to catch about half of it in the cup. Luckily, the car upholstery was protected from the rest of it BY MY LEGS AND HANDS. I'm almost certain I blacked out directly afterwards. All I remember is pulling into the parking lot and throwing the Cup o' Vomit at Schmoobs so I could run upstairs and tear off my soiled clothing and wash my hands in boiling water.

But I instantly forgave her anyway because OMG LOOK AT HOW CUTE SHE IS! *POOF* Heartsplosion!

This makes two vomit stories in one week. This young blog is going downhill and fast. 

But her cuteness more than makes up for it!

Speaking of coconut milk.

I'm feeling a very strong urge to make (and, most importantly, eat) this dish that my dad makes involving pork, squash and coconut milk. It's yummy. Maybe that will be next. Of course, I'll have to find something else besides pork to use. I'm not sure our local grocery store is that organic-meat friendly. Hm.

In the meantime, here's probably the thing that has made me the happiest during this, my week of self-pity over being laid off in one month from the university:

Hahaha. I knew it!

I am all set to send out three more sets of resumes and cover letters, though, so the productivity is making me feel better. However, I will let the cover letters simmer and set overnight before sending them out officially. I hate when I send written materials out in haste, and then find too late that I've made an idiotic mistake. (Read: Every single time.) In the meantime, time to eat my feelings in chocolate and continue trying to make more sense of my life. (Read: Watch Real Housewives reruns on Bravo.)

Asiany Coconut Soup and Banana Breakfast Bread.

Ever since I mentioned going an Asian route in my Garbage Soup post, I've been thinking about it constantly so I decided to finally go ahead and do it tonight.

If you're a fan of Thai food, then surely you've partaken in the pleasure-sensation that is Tom Kha soup. Maybe you find the concept of preparing a coconut chicken soup to be intimidating, but there's a really easy way to do it. It's not exactly Tom Kha - that entails a couple of more exotic ingredients like lemon grass and galangal that is not readily found in your typical Texas neighborhood grocery store - but this is an easy method that is just as satisfying in its simplicity.

Basically, what you want to do is make a chicken broth based soup. Add coconut milk and ginger. The end.

When all else fails, start with some sliced onions sauteing in a pan with olive oil. Warning: the smell resulting from this very basic first step will make you want to eat your own face. Especially if you add garlic into the mix, which I did but just forgot to mention. Anyway, remain steadfast and resist the urge. I chose to make this soup vegetarian, but if you were to add a protein, like chicken (organic and cage-free please! Less sad-tasting) or shrimp, you would want to add that in now so it can cook in the oil. Oh wait! Chicken, add now. Shrimp, add at the end otherwise you'll over cook them. Doy. Or maybe do tofu! Use firm.

I was feeling particularly lazy and had little desire to chop up any vegetables beyond the onions, so I added about a cup of frozen mixed veggies (carrots, peas, corn and green beans). Continue sauteing until the frozen veggies are cooked. Or at least not frozen anymore. I think I also added some red pepper flakes at this point.

More capricious adding. This time, about a half cup of rice. I thought about adding the last bundle of soba noodles in my pantry, but decided to save that for something else instead. Salt and pepper, too. Oh, and I added about a half teaspoon of a chopped ginger. That's important. A lot of recipes will just have you throw in a couple pieces of sliced ginger, but I happened to already have some chopped ginger on hand. I think there's some benefit to cooking the rice in the flavor components for a short bit before adding the liquid? Is there? Whatever, it doesn't hurt. But for you rice novices, this is not how you cook rice for real. Rice needs liquid. And lots of it.

Enter: chicken stock. Like last time, a carton. What is that, a quart? I don't even know. 32 ounces? Whatever, no big deal.  Honestly, I only wanted to use like half the carton, but - and this happened last time as well - when I went to tear back the foil seal on the spout, the loose bit just tore off without actually opening the seal. WTF, chicken-stock-carton-manufacturers? Someone needs to look into that. I mean, the problem can't possibly be user malfunction. Anyway, so I had to tear into the box with a pair of scissors which rendered the spout's resealing capability totally pointless. So I dumped in the whole box. Good story.

 At this point, I added two big handfuls of baby spinach. My original plan was to use sliced button mushrooms, but when I went to get them out of the fridge, they were old and soggy. Sad face. But spinach is a fine substitute. Happy face!

And, finally, a can of coconut milk. I think for a soup such as this, light coconut milk is fine. I chose full phat coconut milk. Stir and let continue cooking until the rice is fully cooked. Ten minutes should be fine. But if you want to cook it longer to err on the safe side, it won't hurt at all. Plus, I want to say that the flavors will meld together better if you do that, but I just pulled that out of my ass. You can, however, use this opportunity to taste the broth and add things to your liking - more garlic, salt, pepper, etc. More ideas: lime juice, chopped chiles or cayenne pepper, soy sauce, fish sauce, egg(!).

Chomp. Or actually, slurp.

* * *

I have had these two bananas sitting on our kitchen counter for the past week and, with each passing day, they are getting more and more pathetic and near-death looking. I really felt the need to do something with them, since the last time (last...three times) this happened, I ended up just tossing a couple rotten bananas into the garbage. BUT I was also not in the mood to find and follow a recipe (and I've heard that it is in baking that you have to be really precise in your measurements and ingredients...), so I decided to just throw caution to the wind and improvise a banana cake bread. 

Ten seconds away from being tossed in the garbage can.

What I tossed into a bowl and mixed around:

• 1 1/2 cups of all-purpose flour
• 1/2 cup of sugar
• one egg
• a pinch of baking soda
• sliced almonds and walnuts
• 1/3 one avocado (I know! I figured it would do the same thing that butter was supposed to do... Plus, it was also in danger of rotting to death in my refrigerator.)
• pinch of salt
• mushed bananas

Well, at least it resembles a batter.

After baking in the oven at 350 degrees for about 30 minutes, this is what it looked like. 

I ate a slice and realized that this was not destined to come out as a cake. It rose some in the baking process, but not much and it was chewier and denser. Also, it had a subtle sweetness to it that made me like it more as a breakfast bread/bar thing. And then I decided I was curious to see what happened to it when I sliced it up and stuck it back in the oven a little longer. So I cranked the oven up to 450 and put them in for another 15 minutes. The pieces got more golden on top, so that was nice. But then I decided to go in a different direction and lowered the oven temperature to 265 degrees and put it back in for another 20 minutes-ish. They didn't dry out as I was secretly hoping (I blame the avocado...and maybe the lack of butter. Again, I am pulling that out of my butt. I have no idea what I'm talking about.) they would so that I could say that I magically made some improvised biscotti. But in the end, what I got was a really nice, chewy and filling batch of banana bread that would be perfect for a breakfast on the go. So there you go. Not all baking experiments have to be a disaster!

 Is it breakfast yet?

But I still totally need dessert. Forbidden root beer float, here I come!

Not my wisest decision.

Hey, you know what's a really smart thing to do when you are allergic to dairy and trying to cut down on your sugar intake? Buy ingredients to make root beer floats.

In order to make myself feel better, let me list for you the other things that I piled into the grocery cart today:

• broccoli
• cauliflower (I am ready to figure out once and for all if I really do dislike cauliflower or not. So far, I'm not fond of it and I don't really know why.)
• baby spinach
• potatoes
• yams
• onion
• frozen peas and corn
• hummus
• multigrain bread
• salmon
• bottle of Green Goodness
• chicken stock

There. My conscience is cleared. Now I can feast on my root beer float this evening in peace. Right?

The time Joe's Crab Shack almost got me in trouble with the law.

I spent the day with Schmoobs yesterday watching him work with his nerd corps as they prepared for their first show of the season, which took place last night about a 90-minute drive away from our home. It was a wonderful day - I got to meet the latest additions to his man harem and see him fully immersed in an activity that makes him happy and sometimes (often) drives him crazy - despite the entire day being over 100 degrees with heavy winds. It was like spending the whole day standing in front of a gigantic hair dryer.

When dinnertime rolled around, we and Schmoobs' teaching staff piled into two cars and chose to have dinner away from the group at Joe's Crab Shack. I was happy with the idea since those effing Crab Shack commercials always make me hungry and I was finally able to indulge my curiosity. Now, because I was essentially resigned to being outside in the disgusting Southern heat without the ability to shower for pretty much 20 hours (gack), I decided to forego getting a bucket of crab legs (I don't want to touch food with my hands unless I can wash up soon thereafter...I have issues, this has been well established) and instead opted for what their menu claimed was "paella." What I got instead was a skillet of white rice swimming in some kind of tomato sauce with a bunch of little bitty grocery store freezer section shrimp with faux scallops and assorted clams and mussels. And a giant mound of fried calamari on top. Anyway. I was hungry and didn't want to be a douche, so I ate it, managing to down about half before finally giving up.

Cut to three hours later. The corps had finished their performance. It was great. And I slowly but surely started to get that foreboding feeling of bile starting to crawl up my throat. Over the next hour, the desire to find a nice, hidden secluded spot to privately retch my brains out became overwhelming. But just imagine a high school campus being overrun, not just by a thousand performers and staff members, but also an entire stadium full of audience and you will understand that there was nowhere I could go to stealthily puke without anybody seeing me. Also, "bathrooms" = porta potties. So...NO.

So, deciding that the best course of action was to quietly pull Schmoobs aside and tell him that I wasn't feeling well, I took his car keys and curled over with the air conditioner blasting while I waited for their post-show obligations to finish so that we could go home. The sensation of the bile and vomit rising and subsiding came and went in waves. About an hour later, nearly midnight by this point, the desire to just finally puke my brains out and get it over with became overwhelming, so I figured that the best thing to do was drive just a bit off campus and find somewhere nice and quiet to retch. So that's what I did. About a mile away, I pulled into a completely dark and empty business park. I pulled over to the right curb of the parking lot driveway, opened up my door...and letterrip. It was both painful and glorious at the same time. It was mostly violent dry-heaving and then spitting out a mouthful of bile and drool. About four repetitions of this.

Just when I was finishing up the fourth go-round, tears streaming down my face, I looked over my shoulder to my left and noticed...a pair of headlights that had pulled up right behind me and stopped their car. Police officer. Sh*t. He exited his car, walked up to me, shining his flashlight and I just started in on it:

Stubborn Tomato: "Hi... I'm so sorry. I was just driving by and started feeling really terrible. I just needed to throw up."

CAN YOU IMAGINE? Some strange person in a parked but running car by herself vomiting on the side of a road? At midnight? As soon as the words left my mouth, I was sure the policeman was going to issue a breathalyzer test.

Thankfully...

Officer [raised eyebrow]: "Ma'am, do you know you're on private property?"

Stubborn Tomato: "OMG. I'm really sorry. It's just that... I was driving down the road... Joe's Crab Shack. We had dinner and... My boyfriend's working at the drum corps show at the high school just down the road. And we had dinner at Joe's Crab Shack. And I just started feeling really sick and I needed to just vomit. I mean, clearly [motioning officer to look down at the puddle of bile by my feet just underneath the driver's door] ...I just needed to puke and..."

Officer: "Well, you can't be on private property..."

Stubborn Tomato: "Oh, okay. Okay. I understand. OMG I'm so sorry. I'm just headed back to the high school. I just felt terrible and I'm leaving right now. Please. Okay? I can leave right now."

Officer [brief pause]: "Alright theeen...go on."

Oy. I guess, no matter how ridiculous and insane my rambling was, it was pretty clear that I wasn't drunkenly slurring my words. So I made my way back to the campus parking lot and spent the remainder of the night curled in a pathetic fetal position in the pleasantly overly-air conditioned car while Schmoobs and his staff could finish so that we could finally make the 70 mile drive home. Did I mention that it was still 95 degrees when we were heading back into town? At 2 in the morning?

Also: I wasn't aware that two of Schmoobs' staff members were coming home with us so that they could spend the night and drive back to Louisiana today, so I didn't bother to tidy up our place beforehand. And the last thing I remember mumbling to them before closing the bedroom door behind me was, "I'm sorry the carpet is so dirty. I should have vacuumed. I'm sorry. [pointing to a spot where our President of the Finer Things Club had vomited up a hairball earlier] Puke..."

I need help. Hahahaha.

Dear mother,

This is what happens when I abstain from having a cocktail on a Friday night.

Love,

Stubborn Tomato

ps. What would I have come up with if I wasn't sober??

So I Think So You Think You Can Dance Is Awesome: Week 1.

Reasons I love SYTYCD:

1. These contestants have true talent, artistry and skill. Talent that you know has taken countless hours of intense work over years and years to develop. And skill that hasn't been manufactured in a recording studio. And artistry that doesn't necessitate stage pyrotechnics. *coughAmericanIdolcough*

2. Watching these dancers provides me the motivation in the evening to get my ass off the couch and down on the floor of our living room to at least do some stretching and Pilates or something. I mean. It's either that or throw myself out the window.

IMPULSE GOAL! Be able to do the splits again before my 32nd birthday. 11 months. Here we gooo!

This season's dancers are effing spectacular. Can we just cancel the eliminations and spend the entire season watching all of them dance every week? Seriously. At the end we can just pull a name out of a hat and declare a winner.

No, but out of all the routines, Turn To Stone was by far my favorite. I may or may not have gotten verklempt. And you know it's for true appreciation of their artistry because I'm not due to get my Pre-Monthly Confirmation That I Am Without Child for another two weeks.

And can I say I love that she is powerful and not an anorexic waif of a dancer? And he apparently survived a mugging and still has a bullet lodged in his shoulder. Bad Ass.

According to the choreographer Travis Wall, the storyline is about two statues who start off being apart. At nighttime they dance. Their motivation is to return as one statue. Notice the beginning and ending poses. Glack! I die!

...

I was all set to follow up with elimination commentary, but apparently the judges couldn't figure out which two to eliminate so everybody stays this week. See? What did I tell you. Keep everybody. Whee!

Secret to a happy relationship.

Schmoobles will regularly get out of bed before me to go on a Star*ucks run and bring us back some coffee (this morning, a soy iced mocha for me). I, in turn, will wait until he is out running errands to chip away at the saved episodes of Real Housewives on our DVR.

Also, he has learned the good and decent thing to do when he is taking care of the aftermath after a night of Mexican food:

Last night, we were both at work longer than we wanted to be and he decided he wanted to reward us by taking us out to dinner at this new Mexican restaurant in town.

Number of Thai restaurants in town = 1

Number of Vietnamese restaurants in town = 1

Number of sushi restaurants in town = 2

Number of Mexican restaurants in town = ten million

Anyway, the food was surprisingly good. Not long after the queso and chips came, we both blacked out and completely forgot about our resolve to eat healthfully and without excess. Cut to an hour later and we are both mutually rolling each other to the car and making low moaning sounds to express our desire to unzip our clothing and discuss the potential efficacy of popping a handful of acidophilus pills on massaging our intestines. 

We have both committed to eat nothing but spinach leaves (let's see how that works out) while giving ourselves lashings in penitence today. 

Why Stubborn Tomato?

Contrary to what you might assume, the name of this blog doesn't actually have anything to do with cooking or food. Although, now that I think about it, I'll probably try and come up with a "Stubborn Tomato" cocktail and/or dish recipe when the mood and inspiration strikes.

The "Stubborn" comes from the fact that I may have been told once or twice in my lifetime that I am stubborn. By "once or twice" I mean "a zillion times." And usually by Schmoobs. Usually during some kind of argument. An argument that I will generally win.

The "Tomato" is because...hey, I like tomatoes. See: Roasting Vegetables.

But not really.

"Stubborn Tomato" is because LOST is with absolutely zero hyperbole whatsoever The Greatest Television Show In The History Of The Universe.

If you already know what I'm talking about and agree, then you are officially awesome. If not, then clearly you have much to learn and I instruct you to go to immediately get in your car and buy the entire six-season DVD or Blu-Ray set (we have two sets). Start with The Pilot. Send your boss an email saying that you just came back from a weekend trip to Southeast Asia and have caught malaria and that you unfortunately won't be in for the next month. Prepare to have your life changed. You're welcome.

I am one Stubborn Tomato.

LOST rulz 4eva!


Also: Part I of my ...flashback... (get it, LOSTies?) is complete. It is just as pathetic as you would imagine. Check it out!

Baked Salmon.

So you roasted some vegetables last night and were a little over enthusiastic with the quantity. Now you've got two tupperwares full of leftovers and need something with which to spice them up for supper. Remedy: baked salmon! 

When I say to you that baked salmon is the easiest, tastiest and deceivingly impressive dish you can make for a meal, it is because it's true. I wouldn't lie about such a thing. Truth be told, a major part of the appeal of making this dish for me is going to the fish counter at the market and checking out the goods that day. There's something about milling about the fish counter and judging the assortment of steaks and fillets and choosing the exact piece that I deem worthy to be eaten by me and Schmoobs and then pinpointing the exact one to the fishmonger behind the counter that is very appealing to me (run on sentence alert!). It feels so very elitist and sophisticated. Am I right? Yeah, you know. Also, I get to feel slightly superior to all the other people that are walking by with baskets full of processed foods full of hydrogenated somethings and high fructose whatevers (since they don't know yet that I'm totally going to throw two Almond Joys into my basket at the checkout counter). 

Anyway, I prefer getting fillets as opposed to steaks because there is no risk of death via choking on a fishbone with a fillet. If you happen to have some fish in your freezer ahead of time, remember to put it in the fridge the night before or that morning to thaw. I've made the mistake of forgetting that crucial step one too many times. Then I have to go to Panda Express for dinner. And then I get diarrhea. (TMI?)

So here's all you need to do: Rub the salmon fillet(s) on both sides with olive oil, salt and pepper. THAT'S IT. The thing is, if you focus on starting with good fresh ingredients and find the right cooking method, a lot of foods really shouldn't need much to bring out their naturally awesome flavors. So, place the fillet skin-side down in a standard mid-sized saute pan and put in your oven at a high temperature. I would say in the 450 degree range. Depending on the thickness of your fish, it'll bake happily in there for anywhere from 10 - 15 minutes. The thicker the fish, the longer the time (doy). An alternate method is to set your oven to broil (super high heat) and then only leave the fish in there for 5 - 10 minutes. Either way has worked great for me. 

The key to working with high heat is that it will get the fish golden on the outside edges and cooked but still tender and flaky on the inside. What you want to avoid is baking it on a medium or (gack!) low temperature for a long period of time. You'll end up with a dry, non-orgasmic mess. Anyway.

Serve it with a squeeze of lemon and a slice of lemon on top for garnish. You'll end up with something that looks like this:

I swear, any dinner guests you may have over will love it. True story: Schmoobs and I had some friends over for dinner, drinks and merriment earlier this summer and the girlfriend of one of his friends was raving about this dish. And she had never had seafood before. Like, ever. Did you know that there are people out there that can live on this planet for twenty-five years without ever eating any seafood? I didn't. Anyway. I was glad she liked it. You will, too. 

The beauty of something like this simply delicious dish is that it is so easily adaptable and enhanceable based on your liking and confidence level. Rub some herbs up on that. Add some cloves of garlic for aromatics. Drizzle some honey and a bit of ginger before baking for a sweet glaze. Mmm, yeah. Or do what I did tonight. 

I had the fillet sit in a bath of orange juice (yes) for about five minutes while I braved the hellacious Southern heat to go get the mail outside. Then when I got back inside and regained consciousness, I dumped the orange juice and then went ahead with seasoning the fillet with salt and pepper, drizzling just a bit of olive oil on the flesh side. Commence baking/broiling. I placed it on the plate with a side of last night's roasted veggies and a simple salad of mixed greens, goat cheese and sliced almonds (we'll talk salads...yes, soon...) with a balsamic vinaigrette.

Then I decided I wanted to do some kind of improvised mushroom sauce on the spot. I know I just got finished saying that good dishes don't need to be complicated, but I have a habit of contradicting myself often. No, really, the salmon would have been great on its own, but I was feeling creative tonight. The sauce came out great, so you should try it sometime: In a pan, saute some chopped onion (I used maybe 1/4 cup) and chopped garlic in olive oil. Once they are translucent and your kitchen smells so good you want to eat your face, toss in a spoonful of capers and a handful of sliced mushrooms. Season with salt and pepper. After a couple of minutes, add about 1/3 to 1/2 cup of heavy cream and some Parmesan cheese. Do everything to your taste. Then, let the heat thicken the sauce. 

Dunzo (do people still say 'dunzo'?).

Roasted Vegetables and Garbage Soup.

In an effort to finally eradicate myself of the chipmunk cheek "baby fat" (will never happen) that I've been carrying around for thirty years, or just because I turned thirty-one last month and am undergoing some kind of third-life transformative crisis, or perhaps because I have been all but laid off from my university teaching post and am seeking ways to keep myself busy/motivated/not-dead-on-the-inside, I have recently gotten on the bandwagon of healthy (...healthier...) eating and self-improvement. I imagine it's a little bit like the kind of introspective examination/affirmation that Julia Roberts' ridiculous character goes through in Eat, Pray, Love (Fart, Squeal, Poop, Barf...) in response to her moment of life crisis. Or something. Except that I don't necessarily have, you know, the dreadful lifestyle that allows me to reside in a beautiful home in Manhattan with the sort of expendable income that is able to finance running off to far exotic corners of the world for an entire year. Doesn't sound so bad to me, Julia. Anyway. Where was I?

So what I've learned is that roasting vegetables in the oven and eating them is really easy, really nutritious and - most importantly - really freaking tasty. Also: really inexpensive. What is there not to love? For those of you who are completely dependent on the presence of meat for a fully satisfying dinner, there's a really easy solution: Watch Food, Inc. on Netflix. There, done. Just kidding (not really). Sometime soon I'll talk about the equally joyful revelation of baked salmon. But you can totally pair these veggies with a nice steak or chicken breast as well. Just make sure they came from animals who came from a farm that raised them non-crually and ethically. I'm serious. Just watch Food, Inc. Otherwise your steak will taste like sadness and tears.

So, step one of making some delicious roasted vegetables is to go to your local grocer or farmer's market and pick up whatever floats your boat. I have not come across a vegetable yet that was not made infinitely more delicious by roasting in the oven (But leafy greens you'll want to do separately. We'll talk about that some other time as well.). To be honest, my least favorite so far were parsnips, but you might like them. Last night, I chose the following: brussels sprouts, carrots, green pepper, eggplant, yams, potatoes, and onion. I was going to do some green beans as well, but as you will see below, I completely ran out of room. I'll deal with those tonight or tomorrow. Just FYI, my all-star roasting vegetables that I will never tire of and that always turn out scrumptious are brussels sprouts, yams/sweet potatoes and onions.

Chop them all up into medium-sized pieces - about an inch or two? Any smaller than that and they might char too early, any bigger and they'll got soft but not caramelized. Then, just toss them in a large bowl with olive oil, salt and pepper. Seriously, that's it. So easy. You don't want it slathered in oil, but enough so that each piece has a thin coating.

Arrange them in a baking pan (or two if you tend to go overboard on quantity like I do...). The more single-layered the veggies are, the better for caramelization's sake. But - again - I always end up with too much quantity for my allotted space. Also, it's totally okay to mix up all the vegetables, but last night I decided to get a little artsy-fartsy and kind of do them separately.

Roast them in your oven at anywhere between 385 and 425 degrees for probably an hour to an hour and a half. I know that seems like a pretty significant discrepancy, but it really depends on your oven, the amount of char you like, etc. If you're doing this for the first time, just start on the lower end of the temperature scale and check in on it after an hour. Adjust from there. You'll end up with something like this. Notice how I like my brussels sprouts pretty damn well toasted. They are SO GOOD that way I promise.

* * *

Now, when Schmoobs is out of town and I am only cooking for myself, a big bowl full of these vegetable is more than enough to satiate my hungry belly in the evening. But he is a big hunk of manly man, so he requires something else in addition. Last night I decided to experiment with the "Garbage Soup" idea. Sounds disgusting, but generally it's just cooking up a bunch of mixed or leftover vegetables/meat/etc. from your refrigerator and simmering it in some stock to make a delicious soup. Sounds easy enough, no?

I started, as I have learned is the best way to start any savory dish, by sauteeing some onions and garlic in a pot with olive oil. Also added some chopped carrots in there, since I had just a bit leftover that I didn't use in the roasted dish. Salt and pepper, of course. Sautee over medium heat until the onions are for sure softened and the carrots are starting to lose their crunchiness.

The experimentation phase begins. I tossed in dried tarragon and a dash of balsamic vinegar. Tarragon has this slightly sweet taste to it that pairs so nicely with anything poultry related. Next time you make a chicken salad (I'll show you here sometime...of course.) add some tarragon and dried cranberries. Bomb, I tell you. At this point I also added in a carton of chicken stock. If I were a more elite human being, I would have homemade chicken stock frozen and ready to go in my freezer, but I'm not and I don't. At this point, just let simmer until the broth is at least bubbling low and the carrots have reached your desired tenderness.

Continuing on, I decided to toss in some sliced mushrooms and a couple handfuls of baby spinach that were sitting in the fridge. This then turned my soup into something that looked decidedly Asian. If I wanted to, I could have gone that route and added some ginger and maybe some coconut milk.

Instead, I decided to throw in a bundle of soba noodles because I had a package sitting in the pantry. Apparently, if you get soba noodles that are 100% buckwheat, that means they are gluten free? That's cool. I'm not too concerned with that, though. But I love that these noodles cook up so quickly. Just when everything is pretty much done, throw your noodles in and let them simmer away another 4 or 5 minutes. Then you're done! Wait, I mean, taste everything as you go along and add seasoning as you desire. Stuff you may want to think about putting in, based on your taste preference: salt, pepper, cayenne pepper, garlic powder, soy sauce, even sugar.

And there's dinner! Really hearty, yummy and easy. Which is good. The quicker your dinner is prepared, the quicker you can get to watching The Real Housewives of Orange County reunion show on Bravo. Those ladies are nutso.

Macro shot of the roasted veggies on the side. I love a good macro shot.

And scene. (Is it "End Scene"?)

The joys of having a loving and caring mother.

Apparently my mother thinks I may have a drinking problem. Because having more than one cocktail per month with dinner is cause for alarm. Yes, I'm thirty-one years old. And sometimes while cooking dinner I fix myself a cocktail to enjoy, of which I generally drink half and toss the rest down the sink.

Mother, on the phone: "So... I notice on your blog that you've been drinking quite a bit..."
Stubborn Tomato: "Really? You realize that I drink like half a cocktail every other day, right?"
Mother: "Every other day?"
Stubborn Tomato: "And that every time I have a drink I write about it on my blog because I'm bored?"
Mother: "Well, still..."
Stubborn Tomato: "Oh my god. If I have any more than two shots, or a glass of wine or a bottle of beer, I will fall asleep."
Mother: "But that means you're getting ...drunk!"
Stubborn Tomato: "No, it means my tolerance is spectacularly low and I get sleepy after one drink."
Mother: "And you drink...whisky! That's hard liquor!"
Stubborn Tomato: "Because if I drink wine, I get a headache. And if I drink beer, I get bloated and burpy!"
Mother: "Well... I just want you to know that I'm concerned. The addictive personality runs in our family, you know."
Stubborn Tomato: "Okaaay..."
Mother: "Not like your dad's. He's so disciplined."
Stubborn Tomato: "Mmhmm..."
Mother: "So just be careful, okay? Don't drink too much..."
Stubborn Tomato: "Okay mom."
Mother: "But keep writing about it. So I know."
Stubborn Tomato: "Okay mom..."


Speaking of, there's this:

I may or may not have twiddled my pointer finger next to my temple at one point across the bar and shouted, "Sarah Palin?! Are you serious? She's a doofus! She's NOT SMART!" Oy.

So there. I had a whisky sour and a half (got too sleepy to finish...see Mom?!) while out at dinner with Schmoobs last night and blatantly challenged some grizzly-bearded strangers' political leanings with apparently no regard for my personal safety.

And now I promise to not have another adult beverage for the rest of the week.

An update of sorts.

Alright, I'm working on getting some posts up on here shortly. But in the meantime, check out my "About" tab (look up!) as I have updated it recently.

In the meantime, what should I make for dinner? I think since our air-conditioning is now freely flowing from filled freon and fully functional, I think it's a nice evening for some delicious roasted vegetables.

The coconut cream pie was worth it.

The problem with eating a healthy diet full of fresh fruits, vegetables and seafood is that your body will immediately self-destruct when you decide to veer off course for a day or two. Now, please pardon me as I lose consciousness from my weekend of sugar and baked goods. I'll try to update with some healthy food posts in the near future. Zzz.

Test. Testing. Testes.

Hullo. Come back later.