Ever watched a film that gave you an insatiable need to marinate pork? No? Well, then perchance you’ve never seen Chef.
I might have watched this movie three times in one weekend, but I can’t say for sure. What I can say for sure, is that this film was GRADE A food porn. It felt like a breath of fresh air–a bacon-scented wind blowing against my food-loving-face. A visual symphony, singing me a melody of “marinate something—probably a pig”. So, that I did. We got piggy with it. Continue reading →
So, I haven’t eaten eggs, tomatoes, peppers, white potatoes, eggplant, grains, dairy or nuts in about twelve days.
I’m doing a bit of an elimination diet in order to detect some suspected food allergies. I’m not going to lie to you, it could be easier. In the past twelve days I’ve realized I feel slightly paralyzed without eggs and I put tomatoes in nearly everything. But, in the hopes of not freaking out and attempting to sell my kidney on the black market for a plate of runny-yolked gold, I’ve been trying my best to make satiating meals that aren’t lacking in flavor. However, I’d like to reiterate that taking away things like tomatoes and chili powder and paprika make me feel like I’m cooking with a couple of thoselobster claw oven mittson. A little clumsy. A little frustrated. A little confused as to why I have lobster claws instead of hands. I’m sure there were like a zillion better, more coherent similes that I could have used right there. But, of course, I went oven mitts. Oy. Continue reading →
I used to think that gravy was only a thing to be made on fancy occasions. The kind of occasion where we set the table with the “wash by hand” dishes and then soil our almost-formal wear with bits of yams and stuffing. Hmm, clearly as I write this I’m excluding gravy as being used for one occasion: Thanksgiving. Pouring the drippings of the large bird into a pot and making it thick with some sort of roux; this was the whole of my gravy making experience. Fancy holiday gravy to be enjoyed on fancy holiday plates.
Also, just so you know, I once met a clown named Wavy Gravy, We sang some songs together… but, that my friends, in no way relates to edible gravy and is a tale for another day. But, on the scale of gravies, I would dub Wavy Gravy as casual. Just in case you are wondering. Continue reading →
Last night I went to the beach to see the sun go down. My husband and I drove to the ocean in nothing but flip flops and light summer clothes. The car thermometer was still reading eighty five as we approached the Golden Gate Bridge. Finally, when we parked the car, the temp had come down somewhere in the seventies. I grabbed a scarf, removed my flip flops, grabbed his hand, and wandered down the beach towards the waves, toes squishing in the warm sand. We dipped our feet in the ocean and watched the waves get larger. The sun went down just like you’d imagine a summer night’s sky—fiery red with bits of orange and gold lining the clouds. We stood there waiting for the sun to finally tip its hat and dip under the horizon. We spotted dolphins playing in the waves. Dolphins. Because, clearly the beautiful sunset and the early fall beach night wasn’t epic enough. Dolphins. Not kidding. Just three little dolphins kicking it in the sunset like it’s no big deal (you can sneak a peek of this beach-y sunset on Instagram–although, my iPhone couldn’t quite capture the magic).
The moral of this story is: It’s still pretty much summer and I’m eating pumpkin pie. Also, dolphins!?! Nature is a gross show off. Continue reading →
I have a confession to make (I wonder how many blog posts I’ve started with that statement–I always feel like I’m confessing something here).
I haven’t always made good use of my leftover chicken bones.
In fact, I used to let my cat eat them (I think at least a hundred of you just unsubscribed from my blog–Uh oh). Well, not the actual bones, but the carcass. In college, my cat and I used to split a rotisserie chicken. This explanation isn’t making things any better is it? I feel like there is no way that I can not sound like a decidedly gross cat lady. To be fair, I was nineteen and lived alone with a slightly bossy (and always hungry) feline roommate. This isn’t making anything better. At all. I should probably erase this entire paragraph, but I shall leave it in the spirit of truth telling and friendship. Continue reading →