Tag Archives: cooking

My Body Hates Me

Standard
Why is it when you really need to go to sleep, your body is like, “No thank you, body. I’d rather hate my life tomorrow!” Silly body, why do you do these things to me? Why can’t you be more like Fiancé, who can fall asleep at the drop of a hat?

It started off with me getting a phone call at 9:17 p.m. to substitute teach tomorrow for a 6th grade social studies class. Of course I accepted; it’s money!! But, I also thought in my brain, “OMG yuck! I strongly dislike social studies and it is by far my least qualified subject area.”

And then my next thought came out, “How the Hell am I going to fall asleep tonight?” The previous night I had one generous glass of wine and was ready to pass out after that. So, of course, I figured, “O, I’ll just have another glass tonight and be able to pass out.”

WRONG.

Here I am, going to bed at 11:30 p.m., pleased that I am about to pass out and get a lot of sleep. Heck, I will even be able to wake up early and actually do my hair for once.

I lay in bed and checked my phone, 12:00 a.m.

Shit.

I continued to lie in bed and checked my phone again, 12:30 a.m.

Double shit.

At this point I texted the Fiancé and complained that I couldn’t fall asleep. He tells me to try some warm milk, I reply that I had brushed my teeth! He says sleepy time tea, I say no. He then told me to, “just try and close your eyes.”

Ha! That is easier than it seems. I attempted to then “meditate”, AKA simply focus on my breathing. I must have eventually fallen asleep, and I think I even had a conversation with Fiancé when he came in for bed. What I said, I have no clue.

I woke up in total fear. Turns out, I then had a dream that I woke up at 1 p.m. and didn’t show up for my subbing job. Which, if I actually did that, would mean I was fired. Dislike.

I checked my phone and then realized it was 3:30 a.m.

And then I woke up at 4:30 a.m.

My alarm finally awoke me at 5:30 a.m. so that I could go get ready.

And here we are, 10:13 a.m. during one of the planning periods and I am writing this to post later on. So far I am not going to pass out, but give me till about 1:30 p.m., when I will have taught the same thing twice already and about to go for a third go around.

And, $20 says that when I get home tonight I am going to pass the eff out, only wake up to cook dinner and eat, and then not be able to fall asleep again tonight.

Stupid naps. Stupid body.

Advertisements

Baking With Beth

Standard
I was going to write this yesterday, but gwen had to go and be all awesome on me. So instead, you get this post today.

My sister e-mailed me a link about a month ago for Vegan Chocolate-Avacado cupcakes. I’ve wanted to make these ever since she sent it to me but, I either always forgot or didn’t have time. Well, the time finally came two days ago when I decided that I was going to make these suckers. Regardless of the yummy outcome, the beginning was basically shouting at me to not make them. The way that it started, I expected to fail in every way possible.

So here we go, an amateur cook’s adventure in baking. Hopefully the pictures assist in the explanation.

I always start off collecting almost all of my ingredients, so that I am not running around trying to find what I need. Issue #1: “WHERE ARE MY CUPCAKE PANS?!?!” I think I shouted this to Fiancé about 10 times within 5 minutes. I LITERALLY looked EVERYWHERE, and still I never found them. Every cabinet, every box that is still unpacked, and even the empty boxes that I have not broken down yet. I have two, one that holds 12 and another that holds 6. Needless to say, I was not a happy camper because I was forced to use this:

image

It’s Fiancé’s rubbery cupcake pan. I strongly dislike it.

image

Once I got over that hiccup, I moved to the next step. All of the dry ingredients into one bowl and whisk. Easy.

image

O look, all blended evenly and looking pretty!

And then this is where life hated me again. The recipe calls for you to put an avocado in a food processor, but sadly I do not have one yet. This is something I am holding out for, for the wedding registry. So, I had to hand mash this sucker.

image

First I tried the back of a spoon. All that did was cause the avocado to slide around.

image

I was forced to then use a fork. Not even the 28-day boot camp, that I have been doing, has given my arm this good of a workout! I then used the back of a spoon again to attempt and make it all even. Which sort of worked.

image

And then I had to add the cup of maple syrup and I wanted to vomit. It looked disgusting and this picture does not do it justice.

image

After adding all of the wet ingredients I was super close to actually vomiting. The smell of the vanilla extract and the appearance of it all was the WORST!

image

Thankfully, this didn’t last long because it called for me to pour the wet ingredients in with the dry. In my left hand, I slowed poured the wet ingredients into the center of the dry ingredients bowl. In my right hand, I whisked the two together, gradually bringing more of the dry ingredients into the mix. At this point it started to smell awesome and I wanted to eat it. The nice part is, it is safe for you (or child/significant other) to dip your finger into the mix because there is no raw egg!

image

I sadly poured the mix into the cupcake pan, that only held half of the mix (and therefore meant I had to do this again), and put it into the oven.

image

Out came the first 6 cupcakes. Some had some white spots on them, I can only assume it was exposed avocado? I really have no idea.

image

I have a confession to make. I didn’t make the yucky tofu icing, I used store bought. I then proceeded to laugh at the exactness of “stir 20 times” and rebelled, as I stirred it 21 times. That alone probably ruined my cupcakes.

image

I guess I just hadn’t frosted anything in awhile, because this was way more difficult than it should have been. It seemed to take forever and the saying “practice makes perfect” is a lie, because I do believe they got worse as I went. But, using my start photography skills the worst ones are in the back and the bad sides are turned away from my cell phone camera.

I also have another confession. If you are a vegan then please do not come eat my cupcakes. I didn’t have soy milk so I just used my 2% cows milk. Oops?

As much as I can say they are YUMMY and you should really make them, the outcome of my kitchen and sink area (there was back-up from the previous day) caused me to want to cry for the rest of the night. In fact, my hands are still dry from having to hand wash all of the big bowls and pans.

Have I mentioned that I am a neat and clean person?

Nommy Food Day!

Standard
Although I still struggle with my 1950′s Housewife vs. Modern Woman’ness, I am definitely on a 1950’s housewife kick today. I made a list this morning of things that I had to accomplish around the condo, including: wash the dishes, empty the dishwasher, end up filling it up again and rerunning it, laundry, unpack more things, dinner (I went with tacos), etc. Normally I end up putting all of this stuff off until Fiancé is home, since during the day I enjoy watching my trash TV from the previous night, but not today!

I felt so accomplished as I started crossing things off of my list. It was nice to feel accomplished; I haven’t felt this way in awhile. Even though last night Fiancé said that he would make dinner tonight, I knew he wouldn’t have time for it. He has a lot of homework due at midnight, tonight, and he only started last night. I decided I would make dinner, as usual, to be nice and so I could actually eat something yummy.

Since part of my birthday present, from my sister, was a rolling pin. And might I just say, it is the most awesome rolling pin ever! I played percussion for nine years, and the rolling pin she got me is from a company that mostly makes drumsticks and mallets. Anywho, since I finally have a rolling pin I could properly make these amazing 100% whole wheat tortillas.

And so I did. And they were awesome. Seriously, you HAVE to try these. Fiancé even complimented them, and I didn’t have to fish for that compliment. Plus, the rest of the tacos were also very yummy.

When I went to 100 Days of Real Food, for the tortilla recipe, I saw “Pumpkin Spice” Hot Chocolate and I think I died a little on the inside. I MUST TRY THIS NOW! All of the Starbucks around here either make you pay to park, is a bia to get in and out of, or is far away. So trying to get my Pumpkin Spice Latte fix is kind of hard.

Today I am okay with the fact that I am a 1950’s housewife, because I’ll be damned if today hasn’t been full of yumminess and minor accomplishments!

Mmm, bacon!

Standard
We had the delicious brinner last night, which is the formal term for breakfast for dinner (as stolen from Scrubs). I cooked up an entire package of bacon and made us some eggies in a basket. I love bacon and so does the Fiancé, so I knew if I cooked the entire package (a little under 1lb) it wouldn’t last very long.

While cooking said eggies in a basket I reaffirmed my belief that I cannot cook, to save my life, in Cleveland. The yolk somehow broke while I was pouring it into the pan. This never happens to me, so of course it happens in Cleveland. Thankfully Fiancé isn’t picky and he didn’t care.

I somehow managed to get him to wash the pans, which made me feel like I was in Heaven. While sitting on the couch I started to think about what I could use the bacon for tomorrow. I decided to go ahead and make a BLT with my leftover avocado. Which the avocado, by the way, takes a BLT to whole other level of deliciousness.

And then I had an, “O crap!” moment and realized that I never put the bacon into a ziploc bag and in the refrigerator. Oops! So I quickly walked into the kitchen to find the plate that I had put the bacon on and to package it up.

Now, the amount of bacon that I had cooked was about two plates worth when it was all laid out. I, naturally, put a paper towel in between two layers of bacon as to only dirty one plate. I also only ate 4 pieces of bacon, which I would say was about one half of a plates worth.

I walked into the kitchen to find only 3 pieces of bacon left. The third piece was a small one too. This is when I then went out to the living room and yelled at him for eating all of the bacon since I was going to use it for my lunch tomorrow, and I also said, “You’re not allowed to eat anymore of this bacon!” He did a sad face, like all of his hopes and dreams had been crushed, and I walked back into the kitchen being sad that I only got 3 pieces for the next day.

I am currently looking for a mind reading class, so that he will no longer eat all of my bacon. I also found out, this morning, that there was an upside to not having a vent in the kitchen (I know, crazy, right?!). The condo still had a bacon sent to it!

1950’s housewife vs. Modern woman

Standard
It’s been a few more days than normal, I know. And for that, I am sorry. Also, a side of caution, I drove 4 hours today so whatever I say may not make sense or be horribly phrased. Again, sorry.

I am currently finding myself in a bind between being a modern woman and a 1950’s housewife. I don’t like it and I’m not sure what to do about it.

I like cooking and it is always a time where I can just be alone and think. I also am a semi-neat freak. I just like things cleaned, because the flyers and junk that you get in the mail is meant for the trash-not the top of the fireplace, the floor, or the entryway table. Old science magazines, homework articles, xbox remotes, and books are also not meant for the living room floor. So to me, it’s easy. I clean the whole place up and then it looks pretty, just like I want.

But then goes the other side of my brain. I shouldn’t have to clean up after him. I am clean, so I clean my own things up after I make a mess. If you ignore my bedroom that is. That has, and always will be a lost cause. Don’t bother trying to cure that problem.

Anyway, I don’t feel like I should have to clean up after him. It’s not my job, I’m not his mother. He is a grown man who should be able to clean up after himself….but he can’t. And then there is the food issue. I shouldn’t HAVE to make food all of the time. Although I do give him credit that he doesn’t expect me to cook for him or have dinner ready when he gets home.

But I like real food. I don’t eat ramen, as I don’t like it, and other than pasta I am pretty sure this is the only thing he knows how to make. Unless you count grilling something, but I don’t because all he does is throw it on the grill/George Foremen. Can someone teach him how to cook, please?

I know I am not the only one that struggles between wanting to take care of the home/their man and being an independent woman and having them do something. It’s nice to have the option and it being socially acceptable for them to do work, but it makes life confusing.

Mr. Mold

Standard
*Warning: I typed this all on my phone, so please don’t hate on any grammar issues.*

As previously mentioned, Fiance had made a mess of the place and l had the pleasure of walking
home to it all. He ended up feeling bad about it, so thankfully he cleaned it all up. While he was
washing dishes I walked into the kitchen to get something to drink and saw him washing the
blender. The bottom was attached and he did a final rinse and went to put it in the drying rack.

“You know that comes apart, right?”
“It what?”
“It comes apart. The bottom screws off.”

He tries to unscrew the bottom and finally gets it.

“OMG I taught you something you didn’t know.”

Needless to say I was really proud of myself. It is not everyday I get to teach him something.
It took him awhile to clean the blender, after he took it apart. Mostly because he has had the
blender for 4 years, so it was really dirty, dark looking, and very crusty.

I tried my best to not look at it.

The following day I decided to make this berry sauce, thanks to 100daysofrealfood.com. So, I
started putting the blender together and guess what I had the pleasure of finding…

Blackishy looking mold. It was super small dots and in the lid. Ya know, the middle piece of the
lid that turns and comes out. That part. So he clearly didn’t even clean that part because it’s super easy to get to.

So I washed it and I made my sauce.

I texted the Fiance about it (don’t worry, in a nice and just asking way) and he never replied.

Big surprise. At least the sauce is yummy!! </h5

Rata-TOOT-e

Standard
Ahh, the end of summer. I hate to see you leave, yet I love fall; so not really.

I went grocery shopping on Tuesday and decided I would make ratatouille for dinner that night. (Sidebar: Please tell me I am not the only person that finds it strange that they bagged my flour with my milk. I mean, what if the milk leaked?!) since it is a nice summery meal but still warm and hearty. It is delicious, has all veggies, and I had never made if for Fiancé before. Perfect!

So I am going to town, cooking up a storm. All while Fiancé sits on his butt and watches tv. Yeah, don’t worry. I don’t need your help!

So dinner is finally ready and he looks at the food like it is an alien (he’s never had ratatouille or couscous, but thankfully eats anything and everything) and blobs it on his plate. Dinner happened, everything was fine.

And then it started.
The stench.
The farts.

Yes, yes it started. Although he was not alone on this ship, I had the joys of listening to his magical fireworks the entire night.

Did you know that here are multiple ways boys enjoy passing gas? Because there are. There is just the regular way of sitting there and pretending like nothing happened, the silent but deadly way (in which they start to laugh once they can smell it), the laughing hysterically when it’s really loud, and the lean on one ass cheek and lift the other one up to let it rip. And those are just his “usual” ways. I don’t play along with the pull-my-finger trick, so he doesn’t even bother with that one anymore.

I blame the vegetables.

Needless to say, I won’t be making this meal anytime soon.