Tag Archives: food

Lets just hang out at the grocery store

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Today after work I went to the grocery store to pick up some tamarind for Agua Fresca and oohh it felt so good in there. Typically on super hot days I’m out there soaking up sun like a lizard. While others may retreat to the shade if I did the same, I would require a fleece at the very least. AC – forget about it! I would start chattering my teeth even if I had just been out in 97 degree Fahrenheit heat like today. No, I’m not anemic! I just live for warmth and the sun and AC is much too much concentrated cold for me.

Now that I’m pregnant and in my third trimester I’ve not only turned on the AC in my vehicle but I’ve turned the vents towards me instead of aiming them at the opposite side of the car. I’m dying over here! I even drank water today. Anyone that knows me knows that is no small thing – but it’s actually the third time I’ve had water since becoming pregnant. The first time I drank water at least one of my friends literally marked it on her calendar – March 9th at 3pm. Water is the most vile and disgusting liquid on the planet. I don’t care if it’s filtered and/or bottled if it hasn’t boiled and flavored I won’t drink it. How can anyone hate water you may ask, simple, I grew up in Alaska where my city water came out of the tap BROWN and smelled like rotten eggs. If you allowed it to sit, you could actually see brown sediment settling to the bottom. I ain’t drinking that crap. It has amoebas and I’m not touching it.

It turned out to be much too hot for me to cook today so we went out to eat and it was still too hot for me to get my lazy butt up and make agua fresca, but I’ll give you directions for it…

  • Get about 12 to 16 tamarind pods – tamarind is the stuff that’s usually located next to the fresh jalapeños and habaneros and looks like a large peanut
  • Take the outer shell off (you can take the vines off but it may become a sticky mess so leaving them on/in is ok too)
  • Put the sticky fruit in a large pot and add about ten cups of amoebas water
  • Add a cup of sugar
  • Bring it to a boil then lower the heat to med/low for about ten to twenty minutes then let it sit with the lid on for an hour or so – you want the fruit to become a bit mushy
  • Get a strainer, place it over your juice container, and scoop the fruit into the strainer
  • Pour the water through the strainer a little at a time and mash the fruit through so that you get as much of the fruit in the water without the seeds and vines
  • Refrigerate, Stir, and serve cold

*Do a taste test before refrigerating – if it’s too tart for you just add more sugar

Yes this creates brown water, but at least I know what’s in it! :)

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Urge to bake

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Last week I received a newsletter from a magazine to which I subscribe. Actually it was from their website birdchannel.com. At the bottom was an ad from hobbyfarms.com that caught my eye. It read, “Looking for good recipes? We’ve got everything from animal treats to zucchini bread”. I didn’t bother to see where the ad was from at first. I just saw that picture of zucchini bread and wanted some. I snagged recipes for cornbread and pumpkin biscuits as well.

Tonight I made the biscuits which reminded me why I don’t bake, ever! It started with me getting out the mixing bowl to combine the dry ingredients the next step was to mix in the cold butter until the mixer was “crumbly” but I couldn’t find our 30 year-old avocado green hand mixer. “Kurt where’s the mixer?”

“You mean the old hand mixer?”

“Yes”

“You threw it out when we got the Kitchen Aid mixer” Yep that sounds like me. I can’t deny that one. So I wash out the bowl that comes with the Kitchen Aid, dry it out, and pour my dry mixture into the bowl dumping some of it into the sink (at least I think a little bit ahead and know some ain’t gonna make it through the transfer). I added the butter, but I never got the “crumbly” look that the instructions said to watch for – I’m not even sure the butter really mixed in. Oh well, the next ingredient is milk – oops that was a little too much. Add the pumpkin – oops a bit too much of that too. Why is this stuff so damn sticky? How in the hell will I roll it out? Ok I’ll just add more flower…this isn’t working. I told Kurt I didn’t think they were going to turn out and he said, “that’s ok I appreciate your effort.” Now most women would say, “aawww that’s so sweet” but I know Kurt.

With one eyebrow raised, “You just said that so you have the freedom to spit it back out in front of me if you don’t like it didn’t you?”

“Well, yeah” he answered. In the end he said they turned out pretty well even though at one point during our meal Kurt accidentally dropped his biscuit and it made a “thud” sound on the table. We burst into laughter and of course had to tease the crap out of me by writing on our calendar that I made, “Bean soup and pumpkin flavored concrete”. He actually ate two of my pumpkin flavored concrete disks. And yes, we keep a calendar of who made which meal on what day – it helped eliminate most of our arguments about whose turn it is to wash the wretched dishes.

If you can’t find the recipe on the hobby farms site here it is:

You can use commercially canned or homegrown pumpkin for this recipe. If doing the latter, bake the pumpkin rather than boil it in order to get a drier, denser product. After scraping the baked flesh from the rinds, use an electric mixer to beat until smooth. Remove any tough, fibrous pieces that didn’t cook down.

Ingredients
2 cups all-purpose flour
¼ cup brown sugar
1 tsp. salt
3 T. baking powder
1 Tsp. cinnamon
½ tsp. nutmeg
¼ tsp. allspice
1/8 tsp. ginger
1/3 cup butter, cold
¾ cup pumpkin
¾ cup milk
additional flour if needed

Preparation
Stir together dry ingredients. Using a pastry blender, cut in butter until mixture resembles coarse crumbs. Add pumpkin and milk, stirring just until ingredients are moistened and a soft dough forms. If the dough seems very soft, add more flour, a few tablespoons at a time, just until the dough is easy to handle.

On a lightly floured surface, roll out dough to a half-inch thick. Using a 2-inch biscuit or cookie cutter in a simple shape of your choice (such as a pumpkin or leaf), dip the cutter into flour, shake off excess and press into biscuit dough. Place biscuits on a lightly greased cookie sheet one-inch apart and bake at 450 degrees F for 8 to 12 minutes or until golden brown. Serve hot with butter and honey or apple butter. Makes about 12 biscuits.

That is the recipe exactly as it shown on the hobby farms site, so I have no idea if the “1 Tsp. cinnamon” is actually a tablespoon or a teaspoon. It is the only one with a capital “T”, but still has the “sp”. I used a tablespoon. In addition, I think if I make this another time I’m going to cut the baking powder to one tablespoon instead of THREE and just add more flour. I hope that I’ll get more fluffy biscuits instead of such dense and heavy bread.

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My food cravings so far

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My first craving (around week 6 or 7) was for salty foods. That is bizarre for me because I typically don’t like anything super salty. I cured and killed that craving by going to Wendy’s for lunch one day and ordering a large fries. One of my co-workers commented, “What are you pregnant you never eat that stuff.” I hadn’t told any one at that point and the comment freaked me out because I didn’t want anyone at work to know yet (except a couple of people). I actually got sick from those fries.

My next craving was for mangos. I would buy a container of sliced mangos – there were probably about two or three mangos in a container and I would eat one of those a day with lime and salt. That lasted for about three weeks. After or maybe even during that craving I would eat sandwiches with refried beans, ham, feta cheese, and tons of jalapeños. Recently I was on a canned muscles kick – muscles on saltines with Tabasco sauce. I made sure not to eat that one more than twice a week for fear of mercury content. Aside from the amount of mangos those last three are very normal cravings for me, so I didn’t really count them. :P

Yesterday I had an odd craving (odd for me) that I wasn’t able to fulfill until today. Macaroni salad – actually the peas and hard-boiled eggs were what I wanted, but I don’t like peas by themselves.

1 sm. box elbow macaroni, cooked, drained, and cooled
2 cups frozen peas
2 eggs, boiled
1/2 c. mayonnaise
2 tbsp. pickle relish

Oh and for the past two weeks I’ve been snacking solely on fruit – I’ve never liked pears so much :P

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Dry and Tasteless

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I few months ago I joined this community that uses ‘local currency’ for goods and services. I’m not expecting much out of it. I thought I would create a couple websites or something to get my name out and then go back into the freelance world again. The one problem is that I’m stick and tired of web stuff. I just like tinkering for myself as a hobby and not having any type of deadline pressure while I’m doing it, so I started making tamales instead. The friend that introduced me to this community was my first customer and the next one was the person that introduced my friend to it. Both of them gave my tamales glowing reviews / high praise and all that jazz. The third person was a little different. She lives quite a ways away from me and so delivery was difficult. I had to give them to my friend who dropped them off at her friend’s house and then called this third tamale buyer to her house. Once she finally got the tamales this is what she emailed to me…

We finally got the 4 pkgs of tamales from **friend of my friend**. Thanks! I posted the **money**’s.
We steamed some up and had a meal. **boyfriend’s name** is from Tamale country – Arizona and had a few bits of imput. Tasty chicken flavor, traditionally the olive is whole to signify the baby Jesus wrapped in the corn mother – Mary…..sweet huh?

He found the corn pretty dry and lacking good flavor. We steamed them all just right, so I asked him what they needed and he said he didn’t know but the masa his Momma and Hispanic neighbor use is VERY flavorful. He’s also had bluie corn ones…..Hmmm??
We’ve ended up putting chipotle sauce on them to moisten them but then they have lost some of your original flavoring which I really like.

I wanted to give you feedback but not directly to your **local currency** account. I am wondering if you mess around with the recipe or if it’s solidly yours, perhaps passed down recipe you love dearly?

Also, he was curious why you put potatoes in there. He had never seen that before…….:) **her name**

PS Your Tamales are the only ones I have ever tried, so now I’m excited to embark on a new culinary adventure. Yours’ll always be my first……..wink wink

This is what I wrote back to her…

**her name**,
I’m glad you got your tamales. Thank you for the **money**s. I have heard of making tamales with a whole olive, but I’ve never heard of the olive having that sort of meaning behind it. I’m glad **boyfriend’s name** enjoyed the chicken flavor. It is unfortunate the flavor of the masa was not to his liking, but I can’t imagine that it was dry. I ate several from that same batch I gave to you and they were as moist as my usual, which are much moister than tamales I’ve had from others. My mother and I have been using this recipe for 30+ years; it is from the Sinaloa area of Mexico.

So now Kurt has made it a joke. Last night Kurt and I were playing City of Heroes with his friend in Wiscaansssseeennn and so we had tamales for dinner. I left my third tamale because it got cold before I could get to it, and I don’t like them cold. (We were playing while eating) This morning I went downstairs and noticed a 2” x 3” white paper folded in half so that it would stand up in the plate that was mine. On the note paper was written, “What’s the matter? Was it dry and tasteless?”

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How Gandalf got his name

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Gandalf actually has two names and both originated before I even knew from which breeder I would be getting my baby. I chose Gandalf for my grey from the wizard in The Lord of the Rings books. The movies had not come out yet, but the first one was released a month before I brought Gandalf home. I thought I was being all cleaver with the name but when the breeder I chose asked me what name I was going to give him she just chuckled and told me it was pretty common.

Gandalf’s other name is Micken. We use Micken as a nickname and is more of a description of the type of animal to which he belongs (we call crows Mickens as well). So the story goes – One day my boyfriend and I were trying to decide what to eat for dinner and the choices were narrowed down to two things, Meatloaf or a chicken dish he makes with cream of mushroom soup and shoe string potatoes. We couldn’t agree on which to make, so he jokingly came up the idea of making the chicken and stuffing the meatloaf with it. He called this ingenious idea – Micken loaf. Months after bringing Gandalf home we had the same “what’s for dinner” dilemma and in the course of deciding what to eat my boyfriend pointed out the Gandalf was a “fat little Micken”. The nickname stuck and we use it on all waddling birds that are not chickens. Gandalf thinks it’s funny because he has the same twisted sense of humor that we do and he’ll say his nickname several times quickly – Micken Micken Micken!

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McDonalds Fries – Contains Everything but Potato

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McDonald’s sued for having milk, wheat in fries-WSJ

Sunday February 19, 5:49 PM EST

NEW YORK (Reuters) – McDonald’s Corp. (MCD) faces at least three lawsuits claiming the fast-food giant misled the public after it acknowledged earlier this week its French fries contain milk and wheat ingredients, the Wall Street Journal Online reported on Sunday.

The suits were filed by people with celiac disease, who have an intolerance to a protein found in wheat, the Journal said.

McDonald’s, based in Oak Brook, Illinois, had previously described the flavoring as safe for people with food allergies and other dietary sensitivities, the Journal said.

What what what? McDonalds fries aren’t made with real Idaho potatoes? Ya know McDonalds has been in business for many years and I don’t think the ingredient lists have changed that much over time…it’s still shit and if you’re allergic to crap I suggest you not eat out at all. If you have some rare allergic reaction to every goddamn thing disease it’s up to you to find out what’s in that pre-made food, and don’t ask those poor minimum wage kids behind the counter – they don’t fucking know. I don’t know where anyone would get a full ingredient list for fast food, but if you have the kind of time to do that sort of research you have the time to make your own damn sandwich. Don’t get me started on those people that have sued because McD’s made them fat. Fuckin’ idiots!

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Hot Dog Craving

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Yesterday Kurt and I didn’t get anything to eat all day until late afternoon. Typically when we do this, which tends to be every Sunday (especially when my ex doesn’t show up or even call to let us know he’s can’t come help us with the bathroom) both of us are a little grumpy and deciding what to eat becomes a major production. This time when he asked the question I answered, “I feel like having hot dogs.” I said it with a sneer because I’ve never cared for hot dogs – I mean they’re good when we’re camping (mostly because everything tastes better when you’re camping), but other than that I rate them as almost as foul and disgusting as water. Needless to say Kurt was shocked, but pleased since he would have no problem living off of nothing but hot dogs, hamburgers, and pizza. He then asked, “Well what kind of hot dog?” and he listed off regular hot dogs, Kielbasa, bratwurst, etc. “I don’t know! I don’t know the different between all those!” – Remember I said we get a little snippy? “I just want a hot dog with kraut.”

We wound up going to this fast food hot dog place in Everett. I forget the name of it, but fast is just the type of food served not the speed of the workers. Although in their defense there were only two of them and they were working the kitchen, counter, and “drive-thru”. I put drive through in quotes because in order for them to actually hand the food off to customers going through there the worker had to open a door and walk to the vehicle.

Kurt and I ordered our “food” at the counter. I chose the turkey dog with kraut and chili cheese fries, which for me (at least recently) is a guaranteed stomachache in a bag. After watching them make a few of the meals for the drive-thru customers I turned to Kurt and said, “Should I just call in sick now?”

We got our meal and went to my truck to eat it. I finished my order first and Kurt looked at me as if I had just eaten a 20 pound live turkey in front of him feathers and all. “So how was it?” he asked. I told him that I actually wanted another turkey dog, and honestly I’m still right now at this very moment craving another. Kurt insists this means I must be pregnant.

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My Birthday

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My birthday was phenomenal. – Horribly embarrassing at times, but very fun. It started after lunch when one of my co-workers marched up to me with what at first looked like a backpack. Out of the corner of my eye I watched as she unzipped it and pulled out a violin. I flipped around, “Oh NO! – Oh, I could kill you.” was what I apparently said about four times. She had me hold her music sheet up as she played “Happy Birthday” to me. I turned every shade of red humanly possible and less than halfway through I started to cover my face with the music sheet.

I sent an email to Kurt and carbon copied it to my co-worker with the subject line “I give my permission” and in the body wrote, “You may kill her…she brought her violin to work and played ‘Happy Birthday’ to me”. Kurt replied with, “Ha ha ha ha ha!!!! All is forgiven for ruining the surprise about the Aerosmith tickets. Bravo!”

Ahhh the Aerosmith tickets… On Friday my co-worker received an email from her husband telling her that Aerosmith tickets for February 15th would go on sale on Saturday. Both of us were incredibly excited. I sent an email to Kurt to see if he would want to go. I didn’t get an answer all day so I told my co-worker that I would ask him when I got home. She was house sitting that weekend so I told her to give me a call.

When I got home I asked Kurt about Aerosmith. He said he didn’t want to go because it’s at the Tacoma Dome and that venue sucks, it’s too far away, and the concert is on a Wednesday. I went upstairs pouting. A few minutes later I went downstairs again, “What if we made it an anniversary thing?” I asked referring to the concert again. “No, it’s ten days from our anniversary.”

“But we could take Thursday off work”

“No”

I went upstairs pouting again. A few minutes passed and Kurt came upstairs. I asked him if he had made the reservations for Buca Di Beppo yet.

“No I don’t have the number” He started to go over to turn on his computer.

“I already have it on my screen – Here, it’s right here.”

“No.”

“But it’s already on my screen…”

“Stop being such a control freak!” he snapped. Control freak? I couldn’t figure out why Kurt was being such an ass (more so than usual). I went downstairs to pout some more. Later that evening Kurt wanted to go somewhere. I told him that I was waiting for my co-worker to call.

“Why?”

“Because we were going to go to the concert together.”

“AAHH! – God Damn it! – I hate her!”

“What?”

“Happy Birthday” he said dryly, “I was going to surprise you with tickets.”

So Monday evening came around, and we had eleven people show up (including myself) to dinner at Buca’s. I had so much fun, even though someone leaked to the waitress that it was my birthday. She came by with a candelabrum containing five candles. She said I get five wishes. I looked up over at Kurt, and loudly announced to the whole table, “I don’t think Kurt wants FIVE.” I slouched and started to pat my belly. Kurt leaped up and ran to the candles acting as if her were going to blow them all out himself to prevent me from my wishes.

I tried to blow out the candles, but none went out. One of the guys yelled, “Oh come on I heard you could blow harder than that.” Then someone else said, “No wonder Kurt is always so stressed out!” The waitress told that person, “I can’t believe you said that!” I told her to have a seat and stick around. – That’s nothing!

It was a great night with many stories told, one about the first time we ever went to Buca Di Beppo’s, and some about me. Two that came up about me were the cat traveling Northwest Airlines story and the rum & grapes story.

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Rum & Grapes

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Kurt and I went on a motorcycle camp out with a bunch of friends. Kurt and everybody else rode to the place and I took my truck with the dogs.

I had not eaten all day, so once I arrived I started snacking on grapes. That night it was decided that we would have “biker stew”. None of us brought any food, so we all went to the store to grab a can of soup to add to the pot. We also made a trip to the liquor store and I bought a pint of rum. The soup sounded gross to me, but I got a bowl and tried it…NASTY. I didn’t eat more than a couple bites and went straight back to grapes. That night we all started drinking and so I mixed up some rum & coke for myself. I drank almost the whole pint. Just before we all decided to turn in Kurt and I and another friend made a trip to the bathroom. Now the whole time I was drinking I had been sitting, so I didn’t realize that my legs had turned into rubber bands – Kurt had to almost carry me to the bathroom.

After I was done we went back to the tent. I lay down for a bit and could feel the earth rotate so I got back up, unzipped the tent and curled up to Petie. “Oh Petie” I sat there hugging and petting him as he tried to lean away from his drunk “mommy”. Kurt came out of the tent for moral support (I’m not sure if for me or Petie), and then it happened. The next morning the friend that had hiked with us to the bathrooms described what he heard as, “It sounded like someone was just pouring water out.” He was a little confused by the sound and then it suddenly hit him, “AAHH where’s my earplugs!” When I got up in the morning I felt fine. I saw where my uuhh mess was and it was nothing more than a wet area with “grape shells”. It looked like thousands of some kind of little reptile had hatched there.

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First Time at Buca Di Beppo

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The first time we went I don’t think there were any reservations made, and there was a very long line.

There was a group that we saw making their way up the line asking, “How many in your party?” When they came to us we told them our number (I think there were six of us). “Oh perfect!” They explained that they had reserved the Pope’s table, which requires a party of at least 12, and half their people were out sick. They asked us to join them and we accepted.

We sat at the table. Their party sat at one half and ours on the other. This restaurant is a family style one. Each dish may feed anywhere from two to six people, so the waitresses have to help coordinate the amount of food ordered. Together our parties had to explain to our waitress that we were actually two separate groups and show where the dividing lines were. She referred to us has her “happily divided table” the whole night. – She had no idea, and at this point neither did we.

Once we were all finally settled in and the food was ordered the other group began the “getting to know you process”. They found out that there was a birthday girl in our group, and they told us they were also celebrating a birthday. Their birthday boy was a meek stick figure with an almost sickly pale dirty-hippy-vegan look. I’m betting he smelled like dirt.

Our drinks came first. For our side it was beer, beer, beer, rum & coke, whiskey, and beer. Then their drinks came in…water, water, ice tea, lemonade, water, and water. Some one from the vegan group asked us how we all knew each other and one of the guys said, “We’re all co-workers.”

“Oh where do you work?” They ask. And then Kurt happened.

Kurt of course can’t help himself, so without missing a beat he says, “They work together in the gay porn industry” pointing to two of our guys. Dead silence. There was pretty much no further communication between the two groups. Then we heard one woman in their group ask another person, “So are you still at the seminary school?”

“No I’m on sabbatical.” He says. There was much snickering from our side.

Our food came first and our side went silent except for the sounds of dishes being passed, scraping silverware against dishes, and other scarfing of food like sounds just short of pigs rooting in mud. Then their food came. When all the dishes were set down they quietly bowed their heads and gathered in prayer. Some of us stopped, looked up, briefly wondered if they should stop out of respect, and then blocked the thought and continued eating away.

At the end of dinner their birthday boy presented our birthday girl with a card, and in it he wrote his number. – Creepy!

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