In keeping with my seitan-ic theme, I will introduce you to the devil himself...the lord of dessert, candy and all things sinfully sweet. Yup, you guessed it...the devil's name is Sugar. I know, I know...kind of a sweet (no pun intended) name for a supposedly badass fallen angel, but like so many things that sound deceivingly harmless (sanitary napkin, telemarketer, gynecologist, community marketing agent (see Hawaii post), department of motor vehicles, the I-95, enema, irreconcilable differences, "don't take it personally", "It's you not me", "I need to see you in my office", "you're not fat, just big-boned", etc., sugar is the wolf in little red riding hood's red cape. And it comes in many forms to further confuse you: white sugar, brown sugar, powdered sugar, raw suger, turbinado, sucanat, sugar cane, cane syrup solids, corn syrup, aspartame, fructose, and sucrose. Don't be fooled by this little white powder. It is right up there with cocaine, heroine and all of my other favorite drugs...sounds great, right? Not so much...this little guy goes into your system, and like a drug, spikes your blood sugar and gives you a rush, a moment of bliss, a fleeting energy, and perhaps candy-coated wings & visions of purple bunnies hopping all over the yard (wait...that's not sugar, that's something else, and you should probably stop doing it right now). You're probably thinking, fine I get it, but it's not unnatural...I mean it comes from a plant, right? True, and if you gnaw on a piece of raw sugar cane, it's not so bad because you're eating a food in its whole form, which includes all of the vitamins, minerals and other things that your body recognizes, and can therefore assimilate for proper digestion and absorption. That is not, however, the form in which most people eat sugar. The sugar found in nearly everything from soda to cereal to gum (and even in those "natural" energy bars that you think are so good for you), is a crystalline chemical that's been refined and processed to the point of being an "anti-nutrient" (translation: your body leaches vitamins and minerals from itself in order to absorb the sugar). The sugar cane (or beet) is pressed into a juice, then refined into molasses, and then further refined into a crystalline chemical that is NOT food, and is completely alien to our body. So what? Well, it's one thing when you take a drug and know that it's harmful to your health, but it's quite another to blindly consume mass amounts of something that you think is okay. Sugar is a slow poison, but it's as addictive as any narcotic. 95% of all americans are addicted to sugar in one form or another, whether it's artificial sweeteners, so called "natural" sweeteners, or good old white sugar. Consumption of sugar causes weight gain, tooth decay, and a slew of other illnesses that would take me half the day to list including diabetes, hypertension, many types of cancers, deterioration of major organs, and suppression of the immune system. Solution? Stop eating it.
Easier said than done, I know. Like any addiction, it's hard to stop...
Say goodbye to your venti, no whip, extra hot, nonfat chai latte in the morning with a low-fat blueberry muffin. Wait...WHAT?! I know, I'm totally ruining your whole day. But I'm telling you, sugar is the reason you can't lose weight, the reason you feel like a truck hit you at 3pm everyday, the reason you become irritable (actually, I'm not sure about that...you might just be a pain in the ass naturally), and the reason why you think you're just one of those people who "have a sweet tooth". You don't have a sweet tooth, you have a full on, psycho drug addict "I must give into my cravings" / "I eat cake behind closed doors, under my blanket with a flashlight" sugar addiction!
The good news? There are some sweeteners out there that aren't as evil (they're frenemies with the devil...it's complicated), and may be incorporated, conservatively, into your diet. They include: raw honey, brown rice syrup, maple syrup, and raw agave.
Craving something sweet already? Don't worry, I have the perfect solution: a dessert recipe without sugar in it! Hooray! Every unicorn you serve this to will be convinced that the sticky, syrupy goodness dripping off of the sides of your cinnamon-infused luscious pears is caramel or some other sinfully sweet sugar demon, but rest assured, it's just fruit! Yes, fruit contains naturally occurring sugar, but it also has vitamins, minerals, and all the goodness needed for your body to happily absorb the sweetness without causing any harm to you!
Cinnamon Poached Pears
2 pears, peeled & stems left in place, then cut in half lengthwise
1 small container of Organic Apple juice (without any added sugar, just apples!)
2 cinnamon sticks
5 whole cloves
1/2 cup fresh blueberries (optional)
fresh mint to garnish
In a medium saucepan, place halved pears cut side down in pan. Pour apple juice over top until pears are almost submerged, about 3/4 of the way. Add the cinnamon sticks and cloves and turn on flame to high. Bring up to a boil, then turn down flame to low, and simmer to a poaching temperature (a little higher than a simmer with a few bubbles popping occasionally) for 20 minutes, or until a toothpick can easily pierce each pear. Remove pears, cloves, and cinnamon sticks from poaching liquid and place on serving dish. Turn up flame and bring liquid to a boil and reduce until liquid becomes a thick syrup. Serve pears as is or slice from stem to bottom and fan out, then drizzle with syrup and garnish with fresh blueberries and mint. Makes enough servings for four unicorns suffering from sugar withdrawal.
Still need convincing? Consider this: cancer cells need nourishment to survive and grow...and guess what their favorite thing to eat is? Yup, you guessed it...sugar. In fact, many people undergoing treatment for cancer are encouraged to go on a sugar-free or sugar-moderated diet. Why not start now?
Friday, September 30, 2011
Thursday, September 29, 2011
why I love golf / evil seitan stew
My husband (don draper) works in the golf industry (translation: he works weekends and now I hate summer). In fact, he is the reason we moved to Hawaii in the first place; to learn the ins and outs of the industry, otherwise known as "how to keep rich men happy in the great outdoors". The short answer? Give them alcohol, a set of metal clubs and rubber balls, and a motorized vehicle. It's the simple things. Of course many women (including myself) like to play golf as well, but let's just say the golf club experience is a little different for us girls. The first problem is the locker room. Unless you have a map of the underground, it's nearly impossible to find the ladies locker room. "Go down the stairs, turn left, and follow the corridor to the end of the hall, just past the laundry room". Gee, thanks, I can't wait to see the view. The ladies locker room is typically saturated in some shade of pink, with flowered, pouffy cushions and little bottles of scented creams and plastic hair brushes (because we love pink, soft things like bunnies and puppies and we're very sensitive to dark colors and loud noises). The men's locker room? How could you miss it; go straight through the damn entrance and it's right in front of you with a stuffed deer head above the doorway. What happens inside is a mystery of course, because the women aren't allowed in such places (I'm fairly sure, however, that the men are honing the blades of their swords, suiting up in chainmail, and eating raw meat). After lacing up my tasseled, white golf shoes and popping up my collar (so that you know I went to private school), I emerge from the locker room, and run into a laundry woman (oops, I'm still downstairs...she gives me directions).
Out on the driving range, men stuffed in pastel polo shirts, shorts with animal prints, and sock-less loafers are demoing the latest clubs and congratulating each other on being masters of the universe. I love the smell of freshly cut grass, the crisp thrusting sound of a club across a tee as it sends a ball into flight, the muddled thump of the ball as it lands on a moist green...and the laughter of old men quoting Caddy Shack and telling racist jokes. What more could a woman ask for?
For a couple of years, Tom and I did the whole "following the season" thing, where you go south for the winter, so you can continue to play golf (translation: a never-ending winter of work for Tom). At first, I was excited about this idea because it meant that we were going to spend the entire winter in Florida. Sounds pretty amazing, right? Wrong. As soon as my flip flops touched the warm sand, I realized that Florida is full of semi-retired, retired, or semi-dead people who eat egg salad sandwiches, play bridge, and eat dinner at 5:00pm. Needless to say I had to get creative...
Solution? I Read the entire Twilight series and became so withdrawn from reality that when Tom came home at night, I looked at him with disappointment. "You really wish I was a vampire, don't you?". Yes, I replied, I really do...
Speaking of vampires...let's make some Evil Seitan Stew! This stew is filled with sinful red wine, seitan himself, and tons of naughty vegetables. Seitan (yup, pronounced just like our old buddy, the devil) is a delicious meat alternative made from wheat gluten that's packed full of rebellious protein. I love making stews, so even though it's still warm outside, I am channeling my inner autumn princess and forging ahead in the 70 degree weather. I think you should do the same.
Evil Seitan Stew
1 package seitan, rinsed, squeezed & sliced thin (I use The Bridge seitan, which is locally made in Middletown...Hooray for CT!)
2 T extra virgin olive oil, divided
1 T Earth Balance butter (Earth Balance will become your new best friend because it tastes like butter, but without the nasty dairy and cholesterol!)
1 large yellow onion, diced
2 celery stalks, chopped
5 small potatoes (I use yukon gold), quartered
2 cups butternut squash or sweet potato, chopped in small chunks
3 garlic cloves, minced
4 cups stock (sometimes I use homemade, but more often...Imagine No-Chicken Stock)
1/4 cup + a few splashes dry red wine, divided
2 bay leaves
1/4 cup tamari or shoyu
1 cup button mushrooms, chopped
3 cups, loosely packed kale, chopped
1 tsp dried thyme
Sea salt & black pepper to taste
2 tsp arrowroot (look in spice section of Whole Foods for this thickener, which isn't GMO and heavily processed like cornstarch)
Heat the oil in a large pot over medium heat. Add the onion and celery, and cook for a few minutes, until softened. Add the potatoes, squash, garlic, wine, bay leaves, and stock. Bring to a boil, then reduce the heat to low, cover, and simmer for 15 minutes. While it's simmering, take out a saute pan, heat the remaining oil and butter over medium-high flame, and add seitan. Cook for 2 minutes, then add a splash or two of wine, and salt & pepper. Use a wooden spoon to gently detach seitan from pan and flip over, cooking for a few more minutes until golden brown. Set aside to cool and tell that unicorn to stop sampling the stew! Add the tamari/shoyu, mushrooms, kale, thyme, and salt and pepper to taste, and cook until the vegetables are tender, about 10 minutes. Stir in arrowroot and cook until stew begins to thicken. Add seitan to reheat, and serve with crusty bread or noodles! Feeds 4 hungry unicorns.
Out on the driving range, men stuffed in pastel polo shirts, shorts with animal prints, and sock-less loafers are demoing the latest clubs and congratulating each other on being masters of the universe. I love the smell of freshly cut grass, the crisp thrusting sound of a club across a tee as it sends a ball into flight, the muddled thump of the ball as it lands on a moist green...and the laughter of old men quoting Caddy Shack and telling racist jokes. What more could a woman ask for?
For a couple of years, Tom and I did the whole "following the season" thing, where you go south for the winter, so you can continue to play golf (translation: a never-ending winter of work for Tom). At first, I was excited about this idea because it meant that we were going to spend the entire winter in Florida. Sounds pretty amazing, right? Wrong. As soon as my flip flops touched the warm sand, I realized that Florida is full of semi-retired, retired, or semi-dead people who eat egg salad sandwiches, play bridge, and eat dinner at 5:00pm. Needless to say I had to get creative...
Solution? I Read the entire Twilight series and became so withdrawn from reality that when Tom came home at night, I looked at him with disappointment. "You really wish I was a vampire, don't you?". Yes, I replied, I really do...
Speaking of vampires...let's make some Evil Seitan Stew! This stew is filled with sinful red wine, seitan himself, and tons of naughty vegetables. Seitan (yup, pronounced just like our old buddy, the devil) is a delicious meat alternative made from wheat gluten that's packed full of rebellious protein. I love making stews, so even though it's still warm outside, I am channeling my inner autumn princess and forging ahead in the 70 degree weather. I think you should do the same.
Evil Seitan Stew
1 package seitan, rinsed, squeezed & sliced thin (I use The Bridge seitan, which is locally made in Middletown...Hooray for CT!)
2 T extra virgin olive oil, divided
1 T Earth Balance butter (Earth Balance will become your new best friend because it tastes like butter, but without the nasty dairy and cholesterol!)
1 large yellow onion, diced
2 celery stalks, chopped
5 small potatoes (I use yukon gold), quartered
2 cups butternut squash or sweet potato, chopped in small chunks
3 garlic cloves, minced
4 cups stock (sometimes I use homemade, but more often...Imagine No-Chicken Stock)
1/4 cup + a few splashes dry red wine, divided
2 bay leaves
1/4 cup tamari or shoyu
1 cup button mushrooms, chopped
3 cups, loosely packed kale, chopped
1 tsp dried thyme
Sea salt & black pepper to taste
2 tsp arrowroot (look in spice section of Whole Foods for this thickener, which isn't GMO and heavily processed like cornstarch)
Heat the oil in a large pot over medium heat. Add the onion and celery, and cook for a few minutes, until softened. Add the potatoes, squash, garlic, wine, bay leaves, and stock. Bring to a boil, then reduce the heat to low, cover, and simmer for 15 minutes. While it's simmering, take out a saute pan, heat the remaining oil and butter over medium-high flame, and add seitan. Cook for 2 minutes, then add a splash or two of wine, and salt & pepper. Use a wooden spoon to gently detach seitan from pan and flip over, cooking for a few more minutes until golden brown. Set aside to cool and tell that unicorn to stop sampling the stew! Add the tamari/shoyu, mushrooms, kale, thyme, and salt and pepper to taste, and cook until the vegetables are tender, about 10 minutes. Stir in arrowroot and cook until stew begins to thicken. Add seitan to reheat, and serve with crusty bread or noodles! Feeds 4 hungry unicorns.
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
why I'm vegan / cayenne-dusted cheesy kale chips
"Why are you a vegan?"
I get this question a lot. It's understandable, of course, because to most people, being a vegan is like getting a sundae without the toppings. "That's the best part!" they say; why aren't you eating it? Well, let's imagine for a moment that those rainbow sprinkles, oreo crumbles, chocolate sauce, and maraschino cherries are cows, pigs, chickens, and fish (I do realize that this makes the sundae idea rather revolting). And let's imagine that those animals had a "typical" life (I'd rather not turn this post into a factory farm expose, but unless you live under a rock, you've probably at least heard of a factory farm and the atrocities committed there...Google it with some tissues in hand). You know those commercials with the cows out in pastures under a blue sky? Yea, that's definitely not the kind of life these poor animals have. And then imagine that after these beautiful animals are inhumanely slaughtered, chopped up, and sold in plastic packages as steak, hotdogs, burgers, chicken nuggets, etc., you pile them on your sundae and slurp them down only to discover that you are also ingesting pesticides, hormones, saturated fat, and some seriously bad karma...kind of unpleasant, right? And yet, we still continue to eat them, even though there is a wealth of knowledge out there that supports the idea that eating a plant-based diet is better for the animals, the earth, and ourselves. So what gives? In a nutshell...it's hard to change. Most of us have been raised eating animals and are accepting of the idea that these creatures were put on this earth solely for our needs. This is a gross misconception of course, but when you suggest to others that cows, pigs, chickens and other animals are sentient beings who share our same passion for life, love & family, they look at you as though you've lost your marbles. "What would they do if we didn't eat them?" Umm...live their lives, just like the rest of us!
Here's something that always baffles me: why is it that we eat some animals and keep other animals as pets? I mean, why don't we eat dogs, horses, and cats? "Gasp!" cries the fatty with the bacon burger, "How could you eat your dog!" Well, I couldn't of course, but I don't see a difference between a dog and a pig, a horse and a cow, a cat and a chicken.
Several years back, my husband and I visited Farm Sanctuary in Watkins Glen, NY, which is the permanent home of hundreds of rescued farm animals who would've otherwise been slaughtered. It was a magical experience because I realized the interconnectedness of all beings. The cows reminded me of my horses, nuzzling into my arm with their soft muzzles and long whiskers, the sheep leaned against the fence with their eyes closed while my husband scratched behind their velvety ears, the pigs snored loudly and flicked their legs and tails like dogs in dreamland, and a mischievous, black goat nibbled on my jacket. These animals have been cursed with the titles: food animal, farm animal, meat, poultry, & bacon, but they are every bit as precious, loving, and playful as the animals we call pets.
For me, it's simple....
I don't want to cause unnecessary suffering. I have been put on this planet for some reason, or maybe for no reason at all, but while I'm here enjoying the sun, the rain, the trees, the mountains, and the incomprehensible beauty of this world, I will do my best to live peacefully. The simple fact is: we don't need meat to survive or to thrive. Sure, back in the cave men days when we didn't have tools and didn't know how to farm the land, gnawing on the leg of a woolly mammoth was probably the best solution, but come on people, let's evolve already! If you could save the lives of nearly 100 creatures every year, wouldn't you? If you knew that abstaining from animal products (or at the very least moderating your intake) would make you healthier, wouldn't you? If you could look into a factory farm where innocent animals were being slaughtered, and you could proudly say that you weren't supporting such a horrific industry, wouldn't you?
I remember the first time I heard the comparison of slavery to factory farming. It was in a pamphlet by PETA, and it really stuck in my head. When you think about how horrible slavery was, don't you wonder how people could ever do such a thing? But at the time, slavery was a generally accepted practice, and it took a long time for people to wake up and realize that it was unethical, inhumane and completely unnecessary. Enter factory farming and the mass murder of billions (ten billion to be exact) of animals per year for the purpose of filling our bellies.
I wonder if a hundred years from now, we'll look back on eating animals as we do on slavery...why did we ever do such a thing?
*** my purpose in writing this post is not to make you feel guilty; I just wanted to share with you my personal reasons for living the way I do. Food is personal, and irrevocably rooted in the depths of our individual identities, like politics and religion. Most of my friends eat meat, and I love them just the same, but we each must decide which path leads us to a happier life, and for me, veganism is the road of my choosing. If you feel inspired to incorporate some vegetarian meals into your life, that's great of course, and I encourage you to do so. Not sure where to begin? Try having "meatless mondays" every week, or pick one animal and stop eating it for awhile and see how you feel!***
Now that I've thoroughly upset you, I will try to make you happy again with another easy recipe! Kale is synonymous with health nuts who live on bark and berries (I have literally been asked if I eat those things...sigh), but that's fine with me because it's absolutely delicious! Kale is chock full of antioxidants, cancer preventing flavonoids, and vitamins A, K, and the mineral Iron, as well as having no cholesterol and barely any fat...Hooray! Now, add in some nutritional yeast (cheesy yeast rich in B vitamins) and cayenne, bake it in the oven, and you've got yourself some seriously healthy and yummy snacking to do! Wow your guests with this "potato chip" alternative, and then tell them how it's so annoying that you just can't seem to put on any weight...
Cayenne dusted cheesy kale chips
1 bunch curly green kale (the red russian variety works too), stems removed & shredded into snacking size, then washed and spun dry
1/2 cup nutritional yeast (buy in the bulk section of Whole Foods, the code is 5176...aren't I insane?)
a few pinches of cayenne
1 T extra virgin olive oil
sea salt to taste
Preheat oven to 350. In a large mixing bowl, mix kale with all ingredients. ***Note: the amounts I've given are approximations, so use your judgement. You don't want the kale wet with oil because it won't crisp up in the oven, and a little salt and cayenne go a long way. The only ingredient you don't need to be conservative with is the nutritional yeast, so load it on!***
On a large baking sheet (you're going to need at least two sheets or you can make it in batches), spread the kale in a single layer (a little overlapping is okay). Bake in the oven for ten minutes, stir kale with a wooden spoon, then bake a few more minutes, until kale is crispy and a little brown. Serve as a snack or hors d'ouvre for a small gathering of unicorns.
Monday, September 26, 2011
miso hungry salad / I hate ticketmaster.com
I woke up this morning filled with hope, a bluebird on my shoulder, and a perfect cup of black tea. Then I tried to purchase Radiohead tickets at 10am on ticketmaster.com...Sold out...but mysteriously available on stubhub and other sites for the reasonable price of $600+. Are you kidding me Radiohead? I love you, but your whole "download our music for free" thing doesn't jive well with this "given to the highest bidder" ticket nonsense. Now I feel cheated, and my bluebird has turned into an obnoxious bluejay, and my hope has morphed into the Obama variety. My tea however, was still perfect: a 5 minute steep of black assam, splash of soymilk, a touch of raw honey, and a cat hair or two (for protein obviously). So what if I can't go see my favorite band this week? There are an infinite amount of activities I can partake in on a wednesday night in Greenwich. Perhaps I'll spend a $100 on a plate of steamed veggies and a glass of wine at an overpriced restaurant that claims they "accommodate vegans all the time" or stay at home with my beasts and watch the Lord of The Rings trilogy literally play out in my own apartment. Speaking of which, at the present moment, Dragon (samwise gamgee) is lost in Mordor (closet under the stairs). I always know when she's lost because of her particular mew. Dragon has many mews. The "I'm lost" mew sounds like a question, as if she's saying "Hello? Is anybody out there?" or in cat language "Purrr-raaoooww?". I always reply with "Dragon, I'm over here." Since I've rescued her, she has managed to get lost in room corners, paper bags, closets, and sadly...open spaces. Frodo (ring-bearer) never gets lost and is generally quiet and introverted...with one exception: Silverware. For some unknown reason, the sound of silverware clanking against each other turns Frodo into a bizarre creature who makes cackling noises, twitches his tail as though he's developed a neurosis, and hides in the rafters above the kitchen cabinets. It's gotten so bad lately that when he even sees me opening the dishwasher, he begins to cackle; a pathetic "reh, eh, eh" sound that attempts to convey his great manner of suffering. Toast (sauron) makes all of the typical dog sounds, including the three syllabled whine "hymph, hymph, hymmm" and the "I hear something", bug-eyed, ears glued back muffled half-bark "boufff", and the classic "greeter" bark "Ro-ro-ro-rrufff!". I usually reprimand her when she barks, but then people tell me it's her instinct and she can't help it...and then I feel bad (I'm still on the fence with this argument). My point in all of this? Proving that I have a fulfilling life with or without Radiohead tickets...
It's lunchtime and I still feel defeated so I don't feel like cooking. Solution? Miso Hungry Salad! This masterpiece of a dish is so easy to make, and will impress all of your friends because you can use health term zingers like "probiotics", "apple cider vinegar", and "vegan". They will think you are a goddess in the kitchen even if you're planning a coup on ticketmaster.com and haven't made up your bed yet...
Miso Hungry Salad
for the salad:
1 large head of romaine lettuce, washed, spun & chopped (tip: chopping lettuce is so much easier when you slice once or twice from the root to the tip of the lettuce head, then turn horizontally and chop until you reach the root)
1 cup cooked or 1/2 can garbanzo or black beans, washed and drained (I use Eden organic brand when using canned beans because Eden doesn't line their cans with Bisphenol-A, a known carcinogen)
1/4 cup red onion, minced
1 small cucumber, deseeded and diced (the seeds make the salad mushy)
for the dressing:
1 heaping tablespoon of the following:
brown rice miso (I use South River Miso = so freaking delicious you could eat it out of the jar & it contains probiotics that will fill your body with healthy bacteria)
apple cider vinegar (I use Bragg's organic apple cider vinegar)
tahini (I use Once Again organic tahini)
2 tsp Penzey's Fox Point seasoning (or you can use a blend of sea salt, shallots, chives, garlic, onion & green peppercorns. Exactly, just buy the Penzey's already)
splash of water
3 T extra virgin olive oil
In a mixing bowl, combine all ingredients except oil. Using a whisk, slowly stream in oil and mix until emulsified. Dressing should be thick, like a caesar or blue cheese dressing, but without any of the nasty dead fish or moldy cheese. Pour dressing over salad ingredients, toss, and serve to one very hungry unicorn or two unicorns willing to share.
It's lunchtime and I still feel defeated so I don't feel like cooking. Solution? Miso Hungry Salad! This masterpiece of a dish is so easy to make, and will impress all of your friends because you can use health term zingers like "probiotics", "apple cider vinegar", and "vegan". They will think you are a goddess in the kitchen even if you're planning a coup on ticketmaster.com and haven't made up your bed yet...
Miso Hungry Salad
for the salad:
1 large head of romaine lettuce, washed, spun & chopped (tip: chopping lettuce is so much easier when you slice once or twice from the root to the tip of the lettuce head, then turn horizontally and chop until you reach the root)
1 cup cooked or 1/2 can garbanzo or black beans, washed and drained (I use Eden organic brand when using canned beans because Eden doesn't line their cans with Bisphenol-A, a known carcinogen)
1/4 cup red onion, minced
1 small cucumber, deseeded and diced (the seeds make the salad mushy)
for the dressing:
1 heaping tablespoon of the following:
brown rice miso (I use South River Miso = so freaking delicious you could eat it out of the jar & it contains probiotics that will fill your body with healthy bacteria)
apple cider vinegar (I use Bragg's organic apple cider vinegar)
tahini (I use Once Again organic tahini)
2 tsp Penzey's Fox Point seasoning (or you can use a blend of sea salt, shallots, chives, garlic, onion & green peppercorns. Exactly, just buy the Penzey's already)
splash of water
3 T extra virgin olive oil
In a mixing bowl, combine all ingredients except oil. Using a whisk, slowly stream in oil and mix until emulsified. Dressing should be thick, like a caesar or blue cheese dressing, but without any of the nasty dead fish or moldy cheese. Pour dressing over salad ingredients, toss, and serve to one very hungry unicorn or two unicorns willing to share.
for the shiitake bacon:
***this is an optional topping, but it will blow your mind and the minds of others. It tastes like bacon, but it's actually just a healthy mushroom...and a perfect example of "it's too good to be true"***
3 cups or 1 package shiitake mushrooms, finely sliced
1 T extra virgin olive oil
sea salt to taste
In a large saute pan (do not use nonstick for this recipe...in fact, stop using nonstick and go buy yourself some kick ass all-clad stainless steel saute pans and a cast iron pan too), heat the oil over a high flame. Add mushrooms, but do not crowd (depending on the size of your pan, you might have to make this in two batches), and allow to cook, untouched (put down the wooden spoon!), for a few minutes until brown and crispy (your pan should be hot, smoking & sizzling...don't get nervous). Flip the mushrooms over with a cock of your wrist or the use of your spoon, sprinkle with sea salt, and continue to cook until shrooms are crispy and dark brown. Remove from pan and allow to cool on a few pieces of paper towel to absorb excess oil. Serve as a topping for the Miso Hungry Salad (or just eat them off the towel and tell the unicorn that you overcooked them...).
Sunday, September 25, 2011
"what happens in the dog park, stays in the dog park"
So my mom got me this car magnet (see title for details)...
Yes, it's funny in that "I laughed in the store, but would never buy it" kind of way, but she was so excited when she handed it to me (and we were standing next to my car), so I really had no choice. It's now proudly displayed on the top of my trunk (otherwise known as the location visible only to those standing directly over it). Of course, it's understandable why she bought it for me...
I live in Greenwich, and yes, I'm blonde and drive a range rover and my husband's Don Draper. Go ahead and be jealous of my life...
Okay, so maybe I'm a fake blonde, my husband's name is Tom not Don, and my car is nine years old and squeaks every time I turn the wheel, but I do live in Greenwich. I'm on one of those streets without sidewalks and pretty benches donated by the Draper family; the ones where cars are actually parked on the street (gasp!), and there aren't little yellow paper signs sticking out of the beautifully landscaped yards reading "pesticide application performed on "xx" date. Nope, my street is where all the "help" lives. The reason I know this is because all of the vehicles are either taxis, pickup trucks, delivery vehicles (including Thai Basil who we order from all the time), or just really shitty. I have no problem with this at all because it makes my car look relatively cool...until you notice the magnet. And speaking of the magnet, Greenwich does have a dog park, but it's not as nice as you would expect. I don't know how many tax dollars are needed for fountains, benches, and hanging baskets, but you would think that Greenwich would have enough money to build a proper dog park instead of fencing in a small square of grass next to a sewage treatment plant. Yup, not only can you watch your dog and other dogs take big dumps, you can also savor the pleasant summer smell of human feces and the sound of water pumps. Needless to say, I only go to the dog park when I'm pressed for time and can't take Toast on a proper walk. And the best place for a walk? The Mianus river, nestled amidst the mansions and range rovers (usually decorated with the following magnets: "wag more, bark less", "god bless our troops", and those frightening stick figures on the back window that supposedly portray family size and number of golden retrievers). This place is the best. Toast can chase chipmunks, swim in the river, meet other dogs, and baffle suburban housewives with her "unique" breeding. Is she a short-haired pointer? An australian cattle dog? A purple spotted french bouvois de provence? Yes, I reply, definitely the last one...
And what about your dog? Let me guess, is it one of those hypoallergenic dogs that doesn't shed and has a breed name that ends with "oodle"? Okay, so maybe they're not all like that. Actually, the strangest people I've come across are the ones with black labs, camelbacks, and ski poles. Um, we're in Greenwich; if you throw a stick too hard you'll hit a mansion, and although we're "in the woods" I can faintly smell laundry detergent in the air...I think it's safe to say that during your 3 mile loop you won't die of dehydration or need ski poles to help you climb up that flat trail.
Yes, it's funny in that "I laughed in the store, but would never buy it" kind of way, but she was so excited when she handed it to me (and we were standing next to my car), so I really had no choice. It's now proudly displayed on the top of my trunk (otherwise known as the location visible only to those standing directly over it). Of course, it's understandable why she bought it for me...
I live in Greenwich, and yes, I'm blonde and drive a range rover and my husband's Don Draper. Go ahead and be jealous of my life...
Okay, so maybe I'm a fake blonde, my husband's name is Tom not Don, and my car is nine years old and squeaks every time I turn the wheel, but I do live in Greenwich. I'm on one of those streets without sidewalks and pretty benches donated by the Draper family; the ones where cars are actually parked on the street (gasp!), and there aren't little yellow paper signs sticking out of the beautifully landscaped yards reading "pesticide application performed on "xx" date. Nope, my street is where all the "help" lives. The reason I know this is because all of the vehicles are either taxis, pickup trucks, delivery vehicles (including Thai Basil who we order from all the time), or just really shitty. I have no problem with this at all because it makes my car look relatively cool...until you notice the magnet. And speaking of the magnet, Greenwich does have a dog park, but it's not as nice as you would expect. I don't know how many tax dollars are needed for fountains, benches, and hanging baskets, but you would think that Greenwich would have enough money to build a proper dog park instead of fencing in a small square of grass next to a sewage treatment plant. Yup, not only can you watch your dog and other dogs take big dumps, you can also savor the pleasant summer smell of human feces and the sound of water pumps. Needless to say, I only go to the dog park when I'm pressed for time and can't take Toast on a proper walk. And the best place for a walk? The Mianus river, nestled amidst the mansions and range rovers (usually decorated with the following magnets: "wag more, bark less", "god bless our troops", and those frightening stick figures on the back window that supposedly portray family size and number of golden retrievers). This place is the best. Toast can chase chipmunks, swim in the river, meet other dogs, and baffle suburban housewives with her "unique" breeding. Is she a short-haired pointer? An australian cattle dog? A purple spotted french bouvois de provence? Yes, I reply, definitely the last one...
And what about your dog? Let me guess, is it one of those hypoallergenic dogs that doesn't shed and has a breed name that ends with "oodle"? Okay, so maybe they're not all like that. Actually, the strangest people I've come across are the ones with black labs, camelbacks, and ski poles. Um, we're in Greenwich; if you throw a stick too hard you'll hit a mansion, and although we're "in the woods" I can faintly smell laundry detergent in the air...I think it's safe to say that during your 3 mile loop you won't die of dehydration or need ski poles to help you climb up that flat trail.
Saturday, September 24, 2011
Spicy tempeh burritos, guacamole, and mango salsa / adventures in Hawaii
I told you...I really am a vegan chef. I studied at the Natural Gourmet Institute in NYC after a two year hiatus in Hawaii where I intimately observed the lives of beach bums...so intimately in fact, that I became one. Yes, I had a job; I had many jobs. The longest one lasted 4 months, the shortest one, about 3 weeks. Let's start at the beginning...
My title? Community Marketing Agent (translation: asshole in aloha shirt who stands on street corners with orchids and pretends to be giving you directions and a free flower, but really intends to sign you up for a tour of a timeshare condo in Waikiki). The effectiveness of this job was entirely based on how good you were at lying, manipulating, and faking a smile. I quit after I realized how good I was at it. My husband had already been demoted to a "greeter", which is the idiot holding the flowers who stands next to the CMA. This was, of course, a complement because it meant that he was a decent human being. Our roommate, Evan, was also a CMA, but instead of signing clueless tourists up for timeshare tours, he signed up clueless girls with his number. They were typically blond and their names almost always started with the letter "A".
Where was I going with this?
Oh right, next job. Waitress. Let's just say that I might have been the worst waitress of all time. The fast pace of a restaurant instantly made me feel sluggish, as though my heinous, black work shoes were covered in tar and stuck to the floor. The idea of "turning my tables" quickly was not particularly appealing, even though it meant more tips for me. I found myself content with making the least amount of tips, while leisurely enjoying my tables and encouraging them to stick around. My boss eventually gave me the small outside section (which overlooked the ocean and was notorious for slow tables). I really enjoyed this until we all had to start sharing the "sushi bar" section. This stressed me out: all single customers, lined up in a row. They want their sushi fast and their drinks faster. This is about the time I started to involuntarily roll my eyes. Everybody does this, right? Sure, but not like me. When I roll my eyes, it's horribly obvious and I seem to have no control over it. Needless to say, a few forgotten beers later, an impatient customer got the full wrath of my eyes. My boss was unhappy with me, and when combined with a few of my other incidences (example: kid asked me for milk. "Um, it's a Japanese restaurant buddy, we don't have milk". I asked my boss what to do. He told me to go to the restaurant next door and borrow some. You're joking, right? I had a better idea: coffee creamer mixed with fresh tap water. Perfect. For the record, the kid freaking loved it, and asked for more).
Eventually, I moved on to retail: slower pace, encouraged to partake in my favorite activity (staring off into space and succumbing to wildly entertaining daydreams), and I didn't smell like dead fish after work anymore. Nope, instead I smelled like hand sanitizer and cotton, and my daydreaming became so invasive that when a customer actually addressed me, I looked at them as though they were in the dreamworld and my reality was Neverland. That was the job that lasted 3 weeks. Then we moved back to the states, and I realized that I wanted to become a chef. Do you see how my story perfectly sets up that connection? Don't over think it.
Onward to the recipes!
It's muggy and hot outside, so even though it's fall I don't feel inclined to make a batch of cozy, "let's make a fire" autumn stew. Instead, I'm sweating and fending off a mass of nearly dead mosquitos with nothing left to lose. Solution? Spicy burritos made with a wondrously healthy and scrumptious food called tempeh. Tempeh is my favorite soy miracle, made from whole soybeans and fermented into a scary looking (think brains) but delicious and protein packed package of love. This recipe takes about 30 minutes to make from start to finish so it's a great meal to have when you don't feel like cooking.
*Note: all of the ingredients below can be purchased at Whole Foods or another natural foods store. Yes, I know, "Whole Paycheck" is expensive, but remember this: what is the one thing you do three times a day (maybe more, hopefully not less) for your entire life? Yup, you guessed it...eat! Your body is counting on you to fill it up with yummy and healthy food, a little bit everyday. So do yourself a favor and spend a few extra bucks on organic, minimally processed food. It will make you happy and you will start seeing unicorns everywhere.
Tempeh Burritos
1 package Tempeh, crumbled (I use SoyBoy brand)
2 T extra virgin olive oil
1 yellow onion, sliced
1 green pepper, sliced
1 T mexican seasoning blend (I love Penzey's Adobo blend, but any mexican blend will work...or you can just use a mixture of cumin, cayenne, and garlic)
3/4 jar prepared salsa (I use 365 organic mild or medium salsa, but you can use any kind)
1 T shoyu or tamari (shoyu is naturally brewed soy sauce without the preservatives and oftentimes corn syrup (gasp!) in conventional brands. Tamari is brewed without wheat = gluten free)
1/2 cup loosely packed fresh cilantro, chopped
1 package whole wheat tortilla shells (I use 365 organic)
In a large saute pan, turn flame on high, add oil and heat. Add onions (this is about the time when you will grab a wooden spoon and feel the urge to vigorously stir the onions. Do not give in to this temptation. When you stir, it produces steam, and all your crispy veggies will turn to mush. I'm not saying that you shouldn't stir at all, just don't go crazy). Now add the crumbled tempeh and saute until lightly browned, about 5 minutes. Add peppers, shoyu, and seasoning and continue to cook. Pour in salsa and turn down flame to low. Using your wooden spoon, deglaze the crispy bits on the bottom of the pan with the salsa (that's the best tasting part!). Turn off flame and toss with cilantro. Serve with guacamole, salsa, romaine lettuce, and hot sauce. Makes enough filling for 4-6 burritos.
Homemade guacamole and salsa is so easy to make and tastes so much better than the stuff from the store. Grab a mixing bowl for each, add ingredients, mix & serve!
Guacamole
3 avocados, pitted & scooped out of skins
1-2 garlic cloves, minced
juice of 1 lime
1 small tomato, seeded and diced
1/4 red onion, diced
small handful cilantro, finely chopped
1 T jalapeno pepper, deveined, seeded & minced (wear rubber gloves if you're sensitive to heat)
sea salt to taste
Mango Salsa
1 mango, peeled, pitted & diced
1/2 cucumber, peeled, seeded & diced
1 T jalapeno, seeded & diced
1/3 cup red onion, diced
1 T lime juice
1/3 cup cilantro, finely chopped
sea salt & black pepper to taste
My title? Community Marketing Agent (translation: asshole in aloha shirt who stands on street corners with orchids and pretends to be giving you directions and a free flower, but really intends to sign you up for a tour of a timeshare condo in Waikiki). The effectiveness of this job was entirely based on how good you were at lying, manipulating, and faking a smile. I quit after I realized how good I was at it. My husband had already been demoted to a "greeter", which is the idiot holding the flowers who stands next to the CMA. This was, of course, a complement because it meant that he was a decent human being. Our roommate, Evan, was also a CMA, but instead of signing clueless tourists up for timeshare tours, he signed up clueless girls with his number. They were typically blond and their names almost always started with the letter "A".
Where was I going with this?
Oh right, next job. Waitress. Let's just say that I might have been the worst waitress of all time. The fast pace of a restaurant instantly made me feel sluggish, as though my heinous, black work shoes were covered in tar and stuck to the floor. The idea of "turning my tables" quickly was not particularly appealing, even though it meant more tips for me. I found myself content with making the least amount of tips, while leisurely enjoying my tables and encouraging them to stick around. My boss eventually gave me the small outside section (which overlooked the ocean and was notorious for slow tables). I really enjoyed this until we all had to start sharing the "sushi bar" section. This stressed me out: all single customers, lined up in a row. They want their sushi fast and their drinks faster. This is about the time I started to involuntarily roll my eyes. Everybody does this, right? Sure, but not like me. When I roll my eyes, it's horribly obvious and I seem to have no control over it. Needless to say, a few forgotten beers later, an impatient customer got the full wrath of my eyes. My boss was unhappy with me, and when combined with a few of my other incidences (example: kid asked me for milk. "Um, it's a Japanese restaurant buddy, we don't have milk". I asked my boss what to do. He told me to go to the restaurant next door and borrow some. You're joking, right? I had a better idea: coffee creamer mixed with fresh tap water. Perfect. For the record, the kid freaking loved it, and asked for more).
Eventually, I moved on to retail: slower pace, encouraged to partake in my favorite activity (staring off into space and succumbing to wildly entertaining daydreams), and I didn't smell like dead fish after work anymore. Nope, instead I smelled like hand sanitizer and cotton, and my daydreaming became so invasive that when a customer actually addressed me, I looked at them as though they were in the dreamworld and my reality was Neverland. That was the job that lasted 3 weeks. Then we moved back to the states, and I realized that I wanted to become a chef. Do you see how my story perfectly sets up that connection? Don't over think it.
Onward to the recipes!
It's muggy and hot outside, so even though it's fall I don't feel inclined to make a batch of cozy, "let's make a fire" autumn stew. Instead, I'm sweating and fending off a mass of nearly dead mosquitos with nothing left to lose. Solution? Spicy burritos made with a wondrously healthy and scrumptious food called tempeh. Tempeh is my favorite soy miracle, made from whole soybeans and fermented into a scary looking (think brains) but delicious and protein packed package of love. This recipe takes about 30 minutes to make from start to finish so it's a great meal to have when you don't feel like cooking.
*Note: all of the ingredients below can be purchased at Whole Foods or another natural foods store. Yes, I know, "Whole Paycheck" is expensive, but remember this: what is the one thing you do three times a day (maybe more, hopefully not less) for your entire life? Yup, you guessed it...eat! Your body is counting on you to fill it up with yummy and healthy food, a little bit everyday. So do yourself a favor and spend a few extra bucks on organic, minimally processed food. It will make you happy and you will start seeing unicorns everywhere.
Tempeh Burritos
1 package Tempeh, crumbled (I use SoyBoy brand)
2 T extra virgin olive oil
1 yellow onion, sliced
1 green pepper, sliced
1 T mexican seasoning blend (I love Penzey's Adobo blend, but any mexican blend will work...or you can just use a mixture of cumin, cayenne, and garlic)
3/4 jar prepared salsa (I use 365 organic mild or medium salsa, but you can use any kind)
1 T shoyu or tamari (shoyu is naturally brewed soy sauce without the preservatives and oftentimes corn syrup (gasp!) in conventional brands. Tamari is brewed without wheat = gluten free)
1/2 cup loosely packed fresh cilantro, chopped
1 package whole wheat tortilla shells (I use 365 organic)
In a large saute pan, turn flame on high, add oil and heat. Add onions (this is about the time when you will grab a wooden spoon and feel the urge to vigorously stir the onions. Do not give in to this temptation. When you stir, it produces steam, and all your crispy veggies will turn to mush. I'm not saying that you shouldn't stir at all, just don't go crazy). Now add the crumbled tempeh and saute until lightly browned, about 5 minutes. Add peppers, shoyu, and seasoning and continue to cook. Pour in salsa and turn down flame to low. Using your wooden spoon, deglaze the crispy bits on the bottom of the pan with the salsa (that's the best tasting part!). Turn off flame and toss with cilantro. Serve with guacamole, salsa, romaine lettuce, and hot sauce. Makes enough filling for 4-6 burritos.
Homemade guacamole and salsa is so easy to make and tastes so much better than the stuff from the store. Grab a mixing bowl for each, add ingredients, mix & serve!
Guacamole
3 avocados, pitted & scooped out of skins
1-2 garlic cloves, minced
juice of 1 lime
1 small tomato, seeded and diced
1/4 red onion, diced
small handful cilantro, finely chopped
1 T jalapeno pepper, deveined, seeded & minced (wear rubber gloves if you're sensitive to heat)
sea salt to taste
Mango Salsa
1 mango, peeled, pitted & diced
1/2 cucumber, peeled, seeded & diced
1 T jalapeno, seeded & diced
1/3 cup red onion, diced
1 T lime juice
1/3 cup cilantro, finely chopped
sea salt & black pepper to taste
Thursday, September 22, 2011
psycho trucker dog / happy birthday mom!
In honor of my mom's _____ (enter any numeral less than 50) birthday, I will point out all of my father's flaws. Oh wait- crap, I forgot...he doesn't have any! (more on him later...) Now, everyone who knows my mom loves her because she is the kindest, most amazing person in the world, (but in secret, loathe the fact that she looks like my sister...actually, this is starting to bother me too, because that must mean that I look significantly older than my age). Nevertheless, I feel compelled to celebrate her on this rather muggy, strangely mosquito-filled fall day (it is September, right?) in my own words...
I love that my mom wakes up each morning surrounded by furry children: Roma (psycho trucker dog), Munchy (better known as "Shtinky Puddin'" for reasons that should be self explanatory), and the infamous Fazer (ancient cat from middle ages who has same litter box phobia as Mrs. Crab Legs). Let's just say, these furry children are special, (not in the "brown paper packages tied up with string" way, but in the "I had a traumatic childhood" way). My mom rescues animals, and it's an amazing and wonderful thing to do. But my mom takes it even further than that...
She not only rescues cats, dogs, mice stuck in the bird food can, partially maimed chipmunks (psycho trucker dog), garder snakes living in the generator (much to the dismay of the terrified electrician who had to "watch" the snake while my mother fetched a bucket), stunned chickadees, nuthatches, titmouses? (I want to say tit-mice, but that sounds so inappropriate) and other wild birds that have flown into the glass window on the back porch with a cacophonous thump, but also "previously rescued rescues"...
Enter Roma (psycho trucker dog). Roma is a pit bull mix (now don't go all "ohhhhh..." on me, the whole pit bull = psycho dog is totally crap. I know lots of pits and they're one of my favorite breeds...but yes, Roma is psycho.) Roma is a victim of the "traumatized childhood" syndrome. You cannot give Roma a toy, bone, tin can, piece of garbage, small twig, thimble, carrot...NOTHING...unless you want to become her sworn enemy. If you attempt to take the object away from her, she will pretend to become a vicious killer, and if that doesn't manage to frighten you off, she will succumb to a pitiful state of paralysis we refer to as "limp dog". This is when she collapses on the ground as though her legs have become jelly and she no longer has the will to live because you have made her life so miserable. There is only one solution: the truck. The truck is Roma's only safe haven; there are no strange men in large vehicles with clipboards, there are no dogs, there are no vacuum cleaners, and there are no flashlights. It's a quiet little world that's just for her, complete with plush leather seats, CD player, and drink holders. Whenever she's having a traumatic meltdown, all my mother has to say is "Do you wanna get in the truck?" and all is suddenly forgotten...the lies, the hurtful words, the forgotten birthday, the bully from school...everything becomes as perfect as a Xanex-filled day. But back to my mom and her birthday...
My point in writing this post is to express to my readers (myself and my dog) that my mom has a capacity to love that is unlike any other person, whether it's a psycho trucker dog or her crazy family that couldn't function without her. She is kind, beautiful, and filled with an infinite passion for life. Happy Birthday! I love you.
I love that my mom wakes up each morning surrounded by furry children: Roma (psycho trucker dog), Munchy (better known as "Shtinky Puddin'" for reasons that should be self explanatory), and the infamous Fazer (ancient cat from middle ages who has same litter box phobia as Mrs. Crab Legs). Let's just say, these furry children are special, (not in the "brown paper packages tied up with string" way, but in the "I had a traumatic childhood" way). My mom rescues animals, and it's an amazing and wonderful thing to do. But my mom takes it even further than that...
She not only rescues cats, dogs, mice stuck in the bird food can, partially maimed chipmunks (psycho trucker dog), garder snakes living in the generator (much to the dismay of the terrified electrician who had to "watch" the snake while my mother fetched a bucket), stunned chickadees, nuthatches, titmouses? (I want to say tit-mice, but that sounds so inappropriate) and other wild birds that have flown into the glass window on the back porch with a cacophonous thump, but also "previously rescued rescues"...
Enter Roma (psycho trucker dog). Roma is a pit bull mix (now don't go all "ohhhhh..." on me, the whole pit bull = psycho dog is totally crap. I know lots of pits and they're one of my favorite breeds...but yes, Roma is psycho.) Roma is a victim of the "traumatized childhood" syndrome. You cannot give Roma a toy, bone, tin can, piece of garbage, small twig, thimble, carrot...NOTHING...unless you want to become her sworn enemy. If you attempt to take the object away from her, she will pretend to become a vicious killer, and if that doesn't manage to frighten you off, she will succumb to a pitiful state of paralysis we refer to as "limp dog". This is when she collapses on the ground as though her legs have become jelly and she no longer has the will to live because you have made her life so miserable. There is only one solution: the truck. The truck is Roma's only safe haven; there are no strange men in large vehicles with clipboards, there are no dogs, there are no vacuum cleaners, and there are no flashlights. It's a quiet little world that's just for her, complete with plush leather seats, CD player, and drink holders. Whenever she's having a traumatic meltdown, all my mother has to say is "Do you wanna get in the truck?" and all is suddenly forgotten...the lies, the hurtful words, the forgotten birthday, the bully from school...everything becomes as perfect as a Xanex-filled day. But back to my mom and her birthday...
My point in writing this post is to express to my readers (myself and my dog) that my mom has a capacity to love that is unlike any other person, whether it's a psycho trucker dog or her crazy family that couldn't function without her. She is kind, beautiful, and filled with an infinite passion for life. Happy Birthday! I love you.
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
Mrs. Crab Legs
So I have this cat named Dragon...
Her brother is Frodo Baggins. Needless to say, Frodo (ring-bearer and savior of Middle Earth) is very busy from sunrise onwards, protecting the ring (hair elastic) from Sauron (our dog Toast), and trying to find his way to Mordor (dark closet under stairs) with his sweet, but slightly dumb companion Sam (Dragon). Dragon does her very best...but she has long hair. You have no idea how difficult it is to poop in a litter box, and neither do I, but after much observation I have come to learn that you cannot poop in a litter box with long hair. Frodo...no problem: short hair. Plus, he's the ring-bearer (I will use that excuse often). But Dragon, despite her best efforts (which is essentially no effort) cannot poop in the litter box. There are only two possible outcomes for Dragon: 1) Poops in litter box, exits box, and runs around the apartment as though possessed by demons of the underworld upon realizing that poop is still attached to her butt. This is followed by the infamous butt drag, because what is the best solution when a turd is attached to your butt? Yup, you guessed it: run around the apartment and drag your butt across the floor, which not only leaves lovely brown skid marks but will successfully flatten the poop onto your butt so that the only method of removal is a very unpleasant twenty minutes in the bathroom with scissors. Frodo (ring-bearer) scratches the outside of the bathroom door and continues to mew for Dragon while she is tortured (shaved) by Orcs (me or my husband). 2) Dragon gets in litter box, turns around several times, and poops just outside of box. This is followed by an intense "sweeping" session, which is when Dragon uses one of her front paws to sweep litter in several directions while the poop lay undisturbed and uncovered. Frodo (ring-bearer), as you might've already guessed, poops in litter box, covers entire turd with litter, and leaves box, ring in paw and ready to roll. But back to Dragon...
Sometimes, when you leave the litter box, the world looks different. For Dragon, this is nearly always the case. Upon these occasions of confusion, she reverts to her alter-ego: "Mrs. Crab Legs". Mrs. Crab Legs is a flighty woman who spooks at the slightest rustle of wind, the tiniest creak of the floor, and the most ordinary movements of the Orcs and ring-bearer. She might look at you with an expression of terror, as if she's never seen you before this very moment, as if her time in the litter box erased her memory entirely. She begins to scuttle her way across the floor, but as she's never seen you before, she must remain focused, and can't risk taking her eyes off of you (you're an Orc after all). Her eyes bore into your very soul, but her legs continue across the floor, crossing in front of each other like a ghost crab upon the sand. This is about the time when I like to have an unannounced foot spasm. Mrs. Crab Legs, flighty as she is, leaps into the air with a supernatural movement that seems to begin from her tail and end at her head, as though being pulled up by an invisible string (the Orcs always have a good laugh when this phenomenon occurs).
Her brother is Frodo Baggins. Needless to say, Frodo (ring-bearer and savior of Middle Earth) is very busy from sunrise onwards, protecting the ring (hair elastic) from Sauron (our dog Toast), and trying to find his way to Mordor (dark closet under stairs) with his sweet, but slightly dumb companion Sam (Dragon). Dragon does her very best...but she has long hair. You have no idea how difficult it is to poop in a litter box, and neither do I, but after much observation I have come to learn that you cannot poop in a litter box with long hair. Frodo...no problem: short hair. Plus, he's the ring-bearer (I will use that excuse often). But Dragon, despite her best efforts (which is essentially no effort) cannot poop in the litter box. There are only two possible outcomes for Dragon: 1) Poops in litter box, exits box, and runs around the apartment as though possessed by demons of the underworld upon realizing that poop is still attached to her butt. This is followed by the infamous butt drag, because what is the best solution when a turd is attached to your butt? Yup, you guessed it: run around the apartment and drag your butt across the floor, which not only leaves lovely brown skid marks but will successfully flatten the poop onto your butt so that the only method of removal is a very unpleasant twenty minutes in the bathroom with scissors. Frodo (ring-bearer) scratches the outside of the bathroom door and continues to mew for Dragon while she is tortured (shaved) by Orcs (me or my husband). 2) Dragon gets in litter box, turns around several times, and poops just outside of box. This is followed by an intense "sweeping" session, which is when Dragon uses one of her front paws to sweep litter in several directions while the poop lay undisturbed and uncovered. Frodo (ring-bearer), as you might've already guessed, poops in litter box, covers entire turd with litter, and leaves box, ring in paw and ready to roll. But back to Dragon...
Sometimes, when you leave the litter box, the world looks different. For Dragon, this is nearly always the case. Upon these occasions of confusion, she reverts to her alter-ego: "Mrs. Crab Legs". Mrs. Crab Legs is a flighty woman who spooks at the slightest rustle of wind, the tiniest creak of the floor, and the most ordinary movements of the Orcs and ring-bearer. She might look at you with an expression of terror, as if she's never seen you before this very moment, as if her time in the litter box erased her memory entirely. She begins to scuttle her way across the floor, but as she's never seen you before, she must remain focused, and can't risk taking her eyes off of you (you're an Orc after all). Her eyes bore into your very soul, but her legs continue across the floor, crossing in front of each other like a ghost crab upon the sand. This is about the time when I like to have an unannounced foot spasm. Mrs. Crab Legs, flighty as she is, leaps into the air with a supernatural movement that seems to begin from her tail and end at her head, as though being pulled up by an invisible string (the Orcs always have a good laugh when this phenomenon occurs).
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
So I wrote this book...
Yes, this is my first post...
I just spent thirty minutes trying to learn how to blog on wordpress, and, having successfully confused myself, decided that the best way to solve my confusion was to try a different blogging site. So here I am, slightly less confused, but still wondering if any of what I'm typing will actually reach other humans or if I'm just typing to myself. And considering that I just finished typing up my first novel (enter cheers and congratulations here), this is a fear worth pointing out. So what if my mom is the only one who's read it? She thinks it's awesome and undoubtedly the next Harry Potter...no big deal.
I guess I should express to my current readers (myself & my dog), why I am starting a blog. It was at the urging of my close friend, Jenn, that I change my status from being an unknown writer to an unknown writer who has a blog. This seemed logical enough to me, but I have never followed blogs and have little knowledge as to what I should be writing about. I saw some links for "better blogging tips" which when clicked upon, took me to an amazon page advertising some dumb book I had to buy in order to get these valuable tips. I'm sure there are a plethora of sites out there that really do have great advice for blogging, but I'm an american and suffer from the "if it doesn't load in 3 seconds I click the "x" and pick another link" syndrome.
Did I mention that I'm a chef? Now, before you ask me what restaurant I work at and I let you down with "I'm a personal chef/instructor" and you instantly translate that to "unemployed" let me point out that working in a restaurant is just about the worst job I can think of. Believe me, I've done it (like twice), and it sucked both times. Okay, it was more than twice; in fact it felt like a lifetime, and there's no money in it (personal chefs/instructors on the other hand...rolling in cash). As a result of my impressive cash flow, I now have the time to write novels and ride horses. I live in new england, what else would I do?
But I really am a chef, and a vegan one. Don't even say it...I already know what you're thinking: how do I get my protein, right? I don't. I'm actually in a wheelchair and unable to do anything but blog anymore because my kwashiorkor has gotten so bad (for those of you who don't know what kwashiorkor is, it's a condition caused from severe protein deficiency, and the reason you've never heard of it? Yea, I think you get my point...) I swear I'm not an angry vegan, but the protein thing always gets me because it's so ludicrous.
Did I mention that I have amazing pets? Two cats named Dragon and Frodo Baggins (yup, the ring bearer...he's my cat) and a dog named Toast.
Cheers!
I just spent thirty minutes trying to learn how to blog on wordpress, and, having successfully confused myself, decided that the best way to solve my confusion was to try a different blogging site. So here I am, slightly less confused, but still wondering if any of what I'm typing will actually reach other humans or if I'm just typing to myself. And considering that I just finished typing up my first novel (enter cheers and congratulations here), this is a fear worth pointing out. So what if my mom is the only one who's read it? She thinks it's awesome and undoubtedly the next Harry Potter...no big deal.
I guess I should express to my current readers (myself & my dog), why I am starting a blog. It was at the urging of my close friend, Jenn, that I change my status from being an unknown writer to an unknown writer who has a blog. This seemed logical enough to me, but I have never followed blogs and have little knowledge as to what I should be writing about. I saw some links for "better blogging tips" which when clicked upon, took me to an amazon page advertising some dumb book I had to buy in order to get these valuable tips. I'm sure there are a plethora of sites out there that really do have great advice for blogging, but I'm an american and suffer from the "if it doesn't load in 3 seconds I click the "x" and pick another link" syndrome.
Did I mention that I'm a chef? Now, before you ask me what restaurant I work at and I let you down with "I'm a personal chef/instructor" and you instantly translate that to "unemployed" let me point out that working in a restaurant is just about the worst job I can think of. Believe me, I've done it (like twice), and it sucked both times. Okay, it was more than twice; in fact it felt like a lifetime, and there's no money in it (personal chefs/instructors on the other hand...rolling in cash). As a result of my impressive cash flow, I now have the time to write novels and ride horses. I live in new england, what else would I do?
But I really am a chef, and a vegan one. Don't even say it...I already know what you're thinking: how do I get my protein, right? I don't. I'm actually in a wheelchair and unable to do anything but blog anymore because my kwashiorkor has gotten so bad (for those of you who don't know what kwashiorkor is, it's a condition caused from severe protein deficiency, and the reason you've never heard of it? Yea, I think you get my point...) I swear I'm not an angry vegan, but the protein thing always gets me because it's so ludicrous.
Did I mention that I have amazing pets? Two cats named Dragon and Frodo Baggins (yup, the ring bearer...he's my cat) and a dog named Toast.
Cheers!
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