Category Archives: Cooking
I have come to the realization that our brains are designed to trick us. They are designed to make us think we are consistent, in control, and then they bitch slap us so hard that all of our five senses start swapping spit. It’s like a form of sadistic entertainment to the eyes of the universe. What I have discovered, to sum it up, is that we have absolutely no idea what we like or don’t like or why. Hear me out.
This is the simple case study of one human (me), faced with a series of versus tests. The first set that I will share with you involve edibles.
Candy Vs. Bank Suckers
As I have mentioned before, I am not a huge fan of sweets. Not only have I not had a birthday cake since I was too young to know not to stick things up my dog’s butt, but I am also just not a candy person. Before you say anything about chocolate, check yourself. Comparing chocolate to candy is like comparing filet mignon to a hot dog. Chocolate is not candy.
Candy is that artificial sweet, turn my mouth weird colors, get stuck in my teeth, and make me choke on the new thickness of my saliva kind of junk. I don’t like it. You get the point.
So, when I am sitting in the bank queue as my receipt floats back down the magic tube, I peer down into the plastic hovercraft to find a sucker the size of Stuart Little’s umbrella, and I am delighted. Utterly delighted I tell you.
Yeah, that’s right, I got the sucker because I am the nicest and most charming customer on the planet. Definitely not because I am the sucker.
I suavely give the tellers a wink through the glass as I drive past. Then, I even eat the sucker. Down to the stick. Had my roommate walked up to me and handed me a lollipop for no reason, I probably would have grudgingly stared down at the pathetic offering before I smacked it out of her hand and shrieked a forceful, “No!” But bank suckers are just different.
Hotdog Vs. Free Hotdog at Work
The aforementioned isn’t my first offense in the area of edibles versus edibles. Speaking of hot dogs, for example, I wouldn’t particularly say that I hate them. Certainly not as much as my brain thinks I hate candy suckers outside the confines of Capital One, but you also won’t ever find Oscar Mayer hanging around my kitchen. I have even been known to forgo an entire meal at cookouts because of my disdain for hot dogs.
So naturally, when they used to bring us free hot dogs at my old office (for breakfast at that), I would fight with my elbows out. I would fight with grown men. I would lie, steal, and cheat just to make sure I got my hands on one of those delicious free hot dogs. And then I would devour it like. Like that made any sense at all.
Can Coke Vs. Bottle Coke
Finally, something I can talk about that I actually like. Here in the south we call any form of soda a Coke. Want a Sprite? That’s cool. I’ll be right back with your Coke. As I was saying, I have a wonderful relationship with Diet Coke. I don’t care if it is bad for me or if I am voluntarily embalming myself from the inside out. At least I’ll make a pretty corpse.
While I prefer fountain Cokes and Cokes poured into a glass over ice, I don’t discriminate too harshly against canned Coke or even Coke in plastic bottles. In fact, nothing can make Coke worse, but there is something that can make it ten times better.
Put a straw in me, I’m spent. There is nothing better than a Coke in a glass bottle. The straw is just there to blow your mind a little harder. Because it is definitely not the same exact artificially colored, cancer inducing, brown liquid coming from out of those cans, fountains, and plastic bottles. No no, this is different. Better.
Part Two is on deck!
- Coke’s New Bottle Is Seriously Cool (gizmodo.co.uk)
- Reusing plastic water or soda bottles (ecogreenlove.wordpress.com)
- Street-side Fare Comes Home with the Newest Nostalgia Electrics Hot Dog Cart Inspired by Coca-Cola (prweb.com)
I think I am a little… off these days. I have nothing else to offer you other than specific instructions on how not to cook dinner.
*All instructions are direct results of thorough investigation and experimentation by scholars of the 25tofly cooking institute on 11/26/2012 at 6:00pm.*
Nah, actually these instructions result from my lack of fluid motor skills and general cognition without wearing my LJs and consuming alcohol while cooking. If you learn anything from this, it is that you never deviate from standard protocol.
1. Buy all ingredients for a slightly unconventional Thanksgiving meal because you never got to eat any leftovers at your parents house. Include a rotisserie chicken in place of a turkey.
2. Get home and put that chicken (plastic container and all) in the oven just to keep in some of the warmth. Leave oven off.
3. Make candied yams that look like baby food mush because you bought the wrong canned yams. Ignore this and add brown sugar to feel like you are still making it the correct way.
4. Set sweet potato slop aside and cut veggies for stuffing while slicing fingernail in half. Be thankful it wasn’t your entire finger.
5. Begin mixing the stuffing even though you realize you don’t have enough sherry to complete the recipe.
6. Forget about
turkey chicken in oven and preheat to 400 degrees.
7. Add way more melted butter to the stuffing than you usually do, because the stuffing is acting like Rain-X to all moisture attempts.
8. Realize you left the chicken in the oven.
9. Panic and spill your apple cider.
10. Pull out mutated, and now surely radioactive plasticken.
11. Turn off oven and try to separate chicken from plastic container.
12. Try a piece, almost choke, and realize you will have to discard all of the chicken skin.
13. Place sides in the oven to bake for twenty minutes, but burn your hand while you are at it.
14. When the timer goes off, pull out your sides being careful not to burn your other hand.
15. You turned the oven off in step 11, dumbass.
16. Preheat oven again after you step in that drink you spilled but forgot to clean up. Your socks are now properly wet and gross and sad.
17. Bake sides for another twenty minutes while you stave off starvation by eating half of the rotisserie chicken.
18. When sides are finished baked (for real this time LOL), make yourself a plate.
19. Top it off with a roll that you smashed while trying to butter with cold butter.
20. Congratulations, you are no longer hungry. Now, put everything in tupperware, and do the dishes in scalding water to make sure you irritate your burn.
I’ll be ordering take-out tonight. You should too.
- Make-Ahead Tips for Novice Thanksgiving Cooks (readramble.typepad.com)
- Let Your Kids do the Cooking this Thanksgiving! (cdmfun.wordpress.com)
- Thanksgiving Recap: Sweet Potato Bake (youfoodisnotsogreat.wordpress.com)
If you don’t already know about Robert Hookey’s new book The Bellman Chronicles, you fail at internet, reading, and life. Just kidding… or am I?
I have been following his blog, You’ve Been Hooked, for quite some time now. The Hook handles his profession very seriously but knows when to poke fun at all that comes along with it. His hilarious takes on the wide variety of characters and situations he encounters on the clock as a Bellman are always a pleasure to read (to put it simply). So, when I read that he published a book, I knew I had to check it out.
If you want me to get all mushy about it, I’ll say that I look up to him as a writer and think he is generally an outstanding human being and shit. He also is one of my top commenters/cheerleaders. It took me a while to get to it on my to-do list, but I finally ordered a copy which came to my doorstep last night. I’m considering it a Chrsitmas-in-October present to myself. You should do the same.
I’d also like to give a present to you while I am at it. My gift comes in the form of a recipe, but you will have to read my little story first. Get excited. Read the rest of this entry
[Look! I have a really cheesy cover, and I am cheap, but it’s what’s on the inside that counts, right? Click my obnoxious cover to buy me on Amazon. Yay!
[Also, the title says “for grown-up girls”, but that shouldn’t stop the fellas from checking it out. Would I steer you wrong? Well, not intentionally at least.]
I returned to reality and a Sunday of cooking stuffed bell peppers with a new addition to slide onto my make-shift bookshelf. In her normal fashion, Booger handed down a book to me as an early Birthday present. Its title is The Merit Badge Handbook for Grown-up Girls by Lauren Catuzzi Grandcolas. Her name makes my jaw hurt a bit, and I didn’t even attempt saying it out loud. Filled with activities, projects, goal ideas, and new learning/experience opportunities, you could think of this book as a sort of generalized bucket list and guide. My initial appreciative reaction was quickly followed with eagerness to start flipping pages. Upon doing so, something unexpected happened.
The beginning of this year had me sulking in the realization of all the things I have yet to do in/with my life. I have a hard time being patient when on a quest. Nothing was helping, especially not seeing all the cool stuff other people around me were doing. Then, I began writing again and went from sulking to basking in the new-found determination I had to start doing things. New or different or scary or silly or constructive or whatever kind of things, it didn’t matter. No more ruts. Read the rest of this entry
The world is now a hungry food critic and you are a chef whose knowledge, skills, work experiences, and the like are now ingredients for a meal. Go.
Everyone owns a very specific and unique set of ingredients to offer the world. The world, in turn, is a hungry place. It has plenty of Ramen Noodles already stock piling in its pantry, and it certainly won’t tolerate canned corn beef hash. The world constantly yearns for new recipes. It doesn’t mind if the recipe is a classic, say spaghetti, as long as it has just the right taste. The world, also a daring eater, is willing to try exotic dishes just as long as they aren’t potentially fatal (think blow fish).
I personally don’t believe in the ability to concoct brilliant meals using just one or two ingredients. Read the rest of this entry
I make an effort to buy two different flower arrangements (the cheap ones that are usually ignored but are still just as pretty) once every week or two for each of my vases. I starting doing this when I heard or read somewhere that it can help brighten your mood. I’ve kept doing it ever since, so I guess it works. These flowers were my favorite of the two I picked up yesterday. I didn’t even catch what the name of these were, and I don’t even care. Lie! If you have an eye for this sort of thing , speak up… learn me something. The point is, when I wake up with this little bit of life staring me in the face and give them a whiff, I am suddenly able to hone in on my optimistic side. It’s the little positive things… Do them because you can.
Before my horticultural hunt Sunday morning, I slept in until my eyes would stay sealed no more. That’s when I made a grocery list (laughing at myself later for forgetting trash bags). So, while my trash would be chilling in the nude shortly due to my lackluster list making skills, I did manage to grab something not on my grocery list (naturally). Coffee. I have been the obviously not so proud owner of a single cup coffee brewer since I moved away from home six years ago. It has never been used. Quite sadly, not once. Read the rest of this entry