Lollipopsicle

“In this world nothings sacred In and out of bad scenes Always been a bad seed Loyal to my family Death always chasing me”-from dog to god -Prayers

Mothers are the glue that hold a family together. Well at least in my case. Im the youngest of 5 kids, my mother was in her late 30’s when she had me, she was in a period of reinventing herself while I was growing up. I want to preface that we had a complicated, but utterly devoted relationship. I was the first of the “millennials” on the cusp of “Gen X” raised by a boomer, so we tended to disagree on many things. Mom died in what I hope was peacefully in her bed, on her own terms, she died as she lived, her way, her rules. A talented and intelligent woman, she always tried to make the best of out of less than perfect situations. Mom loved Halloween, but when I think of her and my memories I think of all the Thanksgiving dinners she orchestrated.

When the restaurant was open she would cook there and anyone that didn’t have a place to go would just walk in and Mom would invite them to eat with us gratis. Many times people assumed we were open, we weren’t technically, but she would never turn anyone away. Mom’s thanksgiving menu’s were really a glimpse into who she was as a person, outside of my dad. A mishmash of Mormon pioneer heritage, French cuisine, cut out articles from newspapers and magazines. Of all the things she made, her apple pie by far was truly exceptional. I guess I could make this easy and just talk about her souvlaki, but that was more of her trying to please my dad than be herself. I want this to be a cathartic tribute to her and what our family used to be. Family get gatherings were always tense, we are a blended family which growing up I never thought was abnormal or weird, just how we were. We always had Thanksgiving dinner for better or for worse. Mom would start a few days before, and the shopping trip was always epic, sometimes going to several places to procure the goods. Mom would make at least 6 pies, all homemade, it was the only time of year she would make them, I would get the worst jobs, peeling apples, fetching items, and cutting the wax paper she would use to roll out the dough, I once tried to get her to switch to parchment paper to no avail.

I cannot change the fact that there will never be another Thanksgiving like the ones we had growing up, but I have my memories, Mom’s ability to make magic with flour, crisco ( I use butter but that really irritated her), salt, sugar, and apples. The hours of cooking time we spent together to please the family and to maintain ritual. I wish I would’ve appreciated it more, but regardless the pie will live on. Mom had a unique measuring system, 2 regulation size coffee mugs of flour, and one regulation coffee mug of butter flavor crisco and a few tosses of salt. I wrote the preliminary obituary and of course it was overruled early on, but the one thing that sticks out in being edited by my siblings, is that they said mom had “mastered the art of cooking” she most definitely had not and wasn’t even interested in that, cooking was one her many talents, but she never used proper measuring devices and was never particularly picky about sourcing ingredients, she had been in to many rough situations to be that precise. As I got older and learned more about culinary arts, she found my suggestions extremely pretentious and would often laugh at my perceived “fanciness”. I took some videos of her making pies last time I was there for thanksgiving and I wish I could find them because it was a hilarious look at our dynamic. “No Alexandra! Butter will make the pastry not flakey, butter flavor crisco is much better”, I would ask “is that a smoke point thing?” She would just look at me unamused and laugh it off. I know now that I will forever miss her perfect, imperfection and resourceful cooking.

Mom’s apple pie Filling:

6-8 apples (put a few tart ones in, stay away from red delicious, they suck)

1 lemon, zested, and juiced

1 orange, zested and juiced (I think this may be a variation I made, and would sneak in)

1 cup of sugar

1/2 T cinnamon

Pinch of salt

1/4 cup of flour (used to thicken filling as it cooked)

2 T butter cut into small pieces

Peel and cut apples, add everything but the butter, stir well, set aside and try to keep everyone from eating the apples before the pie is made (this was a thing, to the point mom would have me throw extra apples in so that when they would get eaten we would still have plenty).She would never par cook the filling, adding the butter right before she topped it with the top crust, she would let it steam inside the oven in the pastry, as long as it was cooked enough, sometimes over an hour, it would end up perfect, with just the right viscosity and fresh apple taste that gets lost in most versions . Her pastry was weird, remember in the 70’s (I don’t I wasn’t born yet) when they thought lab made margarine was “healthier” than butter? Mom was still kinda into that mindset, I do wonder how many years I will lose from growing up eating “blue bonnet” LOL! Coffee mugs were used to measure….I’m not kidding, and her 2 flour, 1 crisco ration was enough to make two pumpkin pies, and one double crust apple. I feel like everyone should make whatever pastry they like for pies, I don’t know if I could really replicate how she did it! I do mine with butter, its good. I often would cut out pieces of the spare pastry and make a little apple to place on top of the pie, and then I would usually get to egg wash it . We set the oven on 350, place the pie in usually on sheet pan, as the apples will erupt like a volcano through the 5 cuts on the top crust when its ready . This one I made in the pic, turned out really close to hers, my son ate half of it.

The insomnia has hit again, I am sitting in the bathtub staring at the sink faucet, the water has all drained but still I sit there observing that the sink faucet looks like a bird in flight. Baths help me relax, I woke up with a terrible anxiety dream. The scene is the house I grew up in on Village Way st. I chat with Mom who is lovely and mobile, perhaps around her era after her cooking career when she was getting her degree at Weber state. I go down to the room that I shared with my older sister back in the 90’s, when I hear a terrible noise, as I run up the stairs I notice the door is open (growing up my parents never locked the doors in our house) all the sudden I see a lady from behind with black hair she is menacing similar to the villain in “Saw” as I try to grab her from going downstairs I wake up in a panic, I never made it through to find out the root of the noise, but it was bad enough that I could feel my heart beating outside of my chest. I hadn’t stepped foot in that house in 8+ years but its still a location for my anxiety.

Before my Dad died he had called to tell me they were selling the Village way house, they hadn’t lived there in nearly a decade and had been renting it out. When he told me this, I told him I thought it was a good idea, and that it would be a good cushion for them financially, I didn’t realize this was going to be the last time I would ever hear his voice. He sounded great, he had left the VA home after recuperating from his last bout with chronic pain issues that had left him hospitalized. I took for granted that within the week I would no longer get to have mundane phone calls with him, to be honest, I had missed a few, but our last chat was especially calming. Dad was always interested in how work was going and how I was holding up in general, but this time he seemed frantic to tell me about the house going on the market, and that he felt like I should travel the world more. It was a little different than normal, but I figured all was well, and I had, had a conversation with my sister Georgia a few weeks before about how Dad had told her he wanted her to arrange a “surprise party” for him for his 70th birthday. I remember joking with her about how it wouldn’t be much of a “surprise” if he was the one with the idea, and I am sad now that I was too caught up in my own shit to realize how excited he was to make it to 70. 

He never got his party, as we sat in the super gloomy basement of the funeral home making his final arrangements, I realized this was his “surprise party”, his funeral, he missed 70 by about a month. Making funeral arrangements for someone is an odd situation to be in as a consumer, there was a fair bit of yelling, and we were told to quiet down as three services were going on upstairs. Dad didn’t preplan, Dad was particular, and I swear on my life, for three days I could hear him giving me directions on what he wanted. I could feel him taking over my thoughts. We were lucky that Dad had Veteran’s benefits that covered the cost of everything (a nice traditional, American burial is 10k plus), the funeral was beautiful, he looked as good as he could look dead (I had gone off on the lady helping us make arrangements about what color foundation to use, the mortician waited until she had my approval at the viewing before she left), the casket was shiny like all the cars he had admired in life, flowers were ample, and they gave us the entire chapel. It was grand, and the Greek Orthodox priest was amazing and explained things to everyone that  I never understood growing up, he is 5 years my junior and I was shocked that someone so young could teach me so much about a religion I had been baptized in and I will be forever grateful for his officiating and kindness. 

Dad had a unique blood type and was a organ and tissue donor, his organs were shot for the most part, but his tissues and corneas were not, they had explained to us because of his extensive donation, we wouldn’t be able to help dress him as they had to put him in a plastic “onesie” pajama due to his skin donation, as the sweet mother of six, funeral director nonchalantly explained this rather anatomically, I glanced at my sister Georgia mortified. At first it bothered me, but as I thought about it I realized that this was how my Dad lived his life, he would literally give himself to others in order to help, at times I felt to the detriment of the family, but really it was his way of being generous. As I adjusted his tie in his coffin, I did get a peek at the zipper of his “onesie” and I just kept telling myself he had “zipped off his human suit”, and was sitting at the table with his Dad and uncles observing the whole event in whatever new dimension he was in. Once I got to the viewing I stopped hearing his voice in my head and I felt assured that we did things exactly as he would’ve wanted them.

Grief is dismal, it feels like how Morrisey’s voice sounds, painful, heavy, but also tranquil at times. It hits like waves, sometimes I am almost manically cheerful, two minutes later I am crying over cat videos on instagram. Most everyone who matters to me reached out in some way and it was really reassuring as so much of my life has become solitary. Some folks say the weird things….I really tried to take a self evaluation of what I had been saying to people who had experienced loss, panicking that perhaps I had said the wrong thing….what I realized is that anyone who reaches out at a time like this can’t say the “wrong thing” its all about the intention, the only wrong thing is not do anything at all. I have come to grips that it is never going to “get better” it’s going to be the new “normal”. When my chest tightens and the aching in the pit of my stomach starts my brain spews weird stories and memories of my Dad that I hadn’t thought about in years.

 Dad had a rough childhood, I needn’t  get into too many details but he was abandoned by his biological mother when he was two, and she then passed away tragically when he was 13. He didn’t talk about it much, it was right up there with his Vietnam experience as things best kept in the closet of skeletons that we all pretended weren’t there. Dad wasn’t perfect, but now that he is gone all the things that I was hurt about or irritated about with him are now just kind of endearing. He did share late in his life with me that his Maternal Grandmother was the best cook. He waxed poetic about how she would make handmade pasta and hang it on clothes hangers to dry all around her home, and how that is a memory he had of her when he would visit her apartment in Salt Lake City. For what his mother had lacked in care taking, her mother had tried to make up for anytime she saw him. He would talk about a beef dish she would make and it was the best pot roast he had and will ever eat. We never had it growing up, but I feel like it is something now I want to make to honor his memory. I am pretty sure it pales in comparison to the roast of his youth (there is no recipe to follow, but his eyes would light up when he would describe it to me) but there is something comforting in making a version of this and keeping his and his grandmother’s legacy alive through food. 

I do hope the house sells quickly and that my anxiety dreams subside, but I know I will miss him forever, and that I will never again get to serve him coffee, which he would water down, “too strong Zanny!” I would love to be “annoyed” by him now….I guess I will try to never take anything for granted.

Yiayia’s Pot roast

Beef chuck roast 2 lbs heavily salted and peppered on both sides and perimeter 

1 Tablespoon tomato paste

1 teaspoon dried oregano

1 onion, cut into eighths 

1 cinnamon stick

1 tomato chopped

2 Tablespoons butter or olive oil

1 teaspoon granulated garlic

1 cup beef stock

2 bay leaves 

1/2 cup of dry red wine

Sear your roast in the butter or olive oil, till all sides are brown, while it browns add the onions, and granulated garlic.

In a slow cooker add stock, tomatoes, tomato paste, bay leaves, oregano, meat and onion mix. 

Cook for 3 hours or until fork tender. You can add carrots and celery if you wish, I added two ribs of celery, and two carrots after about an hour or so. Serve over pasta with grated hard cheese and browned butter.

“I want something else to get me through this, semi-charmed kind of life, baby, I want something else, not listening when you say goodbye”-Third eye blind

That song is totally about doing meth btw….but I think that the meth is really more of a way to deal with the symptoms of being human. That is what addiction is all about right? Trying to escape the mundane long enough to feel alive in an altered reality? I wrote this whole short story about riding trimet in the early A.M.’s and about how you see the same people waiting, and how there is an odd feeling of community even if you never even speak to each other. But I hand wrote most of it on a napkin and lost it, so this is what you get, and I am in a mood. Shall we begin?

I am currently equally fascinated and disgusted by others…I think human connection is the most intoxicating thing there is, but a double edged sword as it will easily stab you right in the heart 10 minutes after it changes your perception and gives you hope. People are an addiction, our bodies are hard wired for chemical and hormone flux just by being in the same room with someone.

You can actually feel electricity with some people, its equal parts ecstasy and fear. It only happens rarely, and I almost find it dangerous, to not be able to control yourself to the point that lizard brain takes over and gives you all kinds of delusions of grandeur regarding another human. I think maybe that is why we run from real connections, and it also depletes us as a species. We can control our image online, in real life you cannot, you are taken at face value, if the vibes aren’t there it’s apparent. Human connection is essential, but it is also becoming harder and harder to come by.

I think i’ve lived a sheltered life, due to the fact that at my age most folks already know the cruel and unusual side of humanity, whereas, I am still quite taken back and heart broken when another human discards my appreciation and efforts to connect. I felt jaded before, but since the beginning of the year I have had a few different exchanges that make me realize maybe I don’t even know myself and my preferences that well. I am really hoping it is one of those “transitional” moments that put you on a path towards enlightenment (I am an optimist at heart)…..but what if it is just a reminder that we all die alone, and that you can really trust nothing and no one?

I really wanna “seize the day” but reality can be so icky that I have just been binge watching “Mad Men” for two months while I do what seems like endless amounts of laundry. We have all had amazing short lived experiences that give you hope, but why must they quickly turn into months of self deprecation and insecurities based on the facts that there was some sort of failure in the connection. I used to think I was just like a hopeless romantic about things, but in reality, I’m just a backwards, old fashioned, naive weirdo, with limited life experience, who can cook(about the only thing I feel competent at). We focus so much on money and consuming stuff  that we lose what we as humans at the primitive level really need to be happy……connection to each other, to be in a tribe, to experience what we can in the physical realm, you can’t replace that with sex robots and virtual reality and the more we try the worse we will be as a species (still probably not as bad as “Don Draper” but at least he is handsome). Like always I am a walking contradiction and I must own that, but I am sure someone out there feels the same way I do. Without the bad, we don’t know what is good, but does it have to be this jarring to know the difference….is ignorance really bliss?

How often does fear stop us from living? Fear is really just anxiety, right? Anxiety in general is the worst thing, but it is also one my most defining character flaws…so who am I without the anxiety? What is so wrong with living fearlessly, not putting on a front and just being authentic about your feelings? If you figure it out let me know. So I continue to tell inappropriate jokes and not be taken seriously, as with most others, I am merely a cog in whatever reality you deal in, part of the background, and you get to define me as you wish……even if you are wrong…..and you probably are.

“I believe in the sand beneath my toes, the beach gives a feeling, an earthy feeling I believe in the faith that grows, and the four right chords can make me cry, when I’m with you I feel like I could die, and that would be all right.”

Let’s make some fucking rice shall we?

It’s pretty hard to screw up if you put in the love and effort….do everything with intention, just don’t expect the same in return….but hey this rice is real good!

Life is cathartic, your rice shouldn’t be.

2 cups rice, I am using regular long grain, white rice, but I have used basmati, jasmine, and sushi rice with varying degrees of success, just remember some rice is more starchy than others, just like some people are more likable than others, but you can have a good time with most anyone if the conditions are right.

3 cups of chicken stock, the better the stock the better the rice.

2 tablespoons butter

⅓  diced onion, small dice sucka.

¼ lemon juice

A drizzle of olive oil cuz it’s Greek food.

In a medium pan, add olive oil and butter on medium heat, when the butter melts, add the onion, cook until translucent, about five minutes you can add a pinch of salt (I love Maldon salt) as they cook.

Add the rice, stir around a bit, don’t brown it, this ain’t rice a roni.

Add the stock, turn the heat up, once its at a boil, turn it to low, add the lemon juice,and throw a lid on it. At ten minutes of the lid being on, remove the lid and fluff a bit. Turn off the heat, wait ten more minutes, remove lid, fluff once more and eat.

“I can’t make you love if you don’t”- Bonnie Raitt

But if you don’t love me I question your taste in general! What a week, also it’s been a while, too long actually I must credit my work mate in inspiring me to get back writing. I told him I was struggling with some mental hang ups and he said “well write something!”, he then told me he reads my blog and I remembered why I started doing this, aside from self preservation, validation that I am leaving my mark on the world even in a small way. when someone tells you they enjoy your creative output it is incredibly flattering, and flattery makes for an improvement in self worth which I am struggling with worse than usual . Anyway, I think I’m better when I work and I equate that to the immense support system I have at my current job. It helps develop me above and beyond my role of mother, caretaker, and wife, which is really how others see me. Most folks see things pretty two dimensional, which really limits the human experience if you ask me.

It’s monsoon season in pdx, not everyone can stand it, but the longer I live here the more I notice that instead of getting wet from the rain I just start to absorb the moisture. Heavy in the lungs like a lifetime worth of bittersweet exchanges, broken dreams, a bong rip of nihilism straight to the brain …it does help if you are a semi aquatic lizard being wearing a human suit waiting for the mothership to take you back to your home planet. The big brain fuck of the place, if you visit in July you want to move here….visit in January and you will start wearing black, want to start a minstrel death metal trio with heavy kazoo, and load up on vitamin D gummies, or you run back to wherever you came from….which is probably for the best, trust me the tweaked out ginger riding trimet, licking peanut butter straight from the jar off his grimy fingers may be more than the average rogue can stomach. 

Bad weather however, makes for great cooking! I made lumiconi (stuffed shells) and they were a hit! Make some, plus they are good if you need to eat away your feelings…actually don’t do that…the only thing worse than seasonal affective disorder is gaining weight on top of it…lol…I apologize if that came off fat shaming it wasn’t meant that way, it’s just another color in my rainbow of hang ups.

Awe fuck me! As I wrote this I missed my stop now I’m halfway to Washington state!  Weird week. At least I feel creative in the words of “the Beatles” “oh blah dee oh blah da life goes on”

How to make stuffed shells: buy some large shell pasta, they usually come in a 10 oz package. Cook them about 5 minutes in heavily salted boiling water, drain and rinse.

Pick some cheeses you like, I would always use ricotta, about a pound of whole milk, part skim can be watery. If you are trying to cut calories….uh…don’t make these. Along with your pound of ricotta you will want to add two eggs and about 1 cup shredded cheese of choice, I used like six but I am weirdo who had six on hand. Might I suggest, Mozzarella, parmesan, Romano, provolone, pick and choose your own adventure on that, add a bit of of salt and pepper and mix er up real good. Shove a tablespoon or so into each par cooked noodle then you get that chore done, you will want to have a 13×9 inch pan waiting with a nice pool (2 cups or so) marinara sauce, place your lumiconi in the sauce (its a pool party!) Meanwhile, before you even started this adventure you turned on the ole’ oven to a pipping 350 degrees. Now the topping is where this can get interesting…..I used bread crumbs, crispy prosciutto, more mozzarella, and some grated Romano. You could consider adding spinach to your cheese mixture, use meat sauce if you want or do you boo. I ain’t gonna tell no one if you get a little crazy what happens in the kitchen stays in the kitchen! When you have covered your lil swimmers in what ever you are into, cook em in that hot oven GBD and bubbly, about 35 minutes. Eat them with others! Or not. LOL

My next post will be all about public transit! Stay tuned!

“I don’t have to agree with you to like you or respect you.” -Tony Bourdain.

Summer is dwindling to an end, a bittersweet few months of losses, gaining perspective, and awkward exchanges. Between the periods of existential dread (there were several), it has been great, hot (hottest on record for August in PDX), and humbling. To all my people, who lost people, my heart goes out to you, life is always full of change and loss, I will never again assume that just because someone is here today they will be here tomorrow. My focus is on being empathetic to others and to leave judgement to the bored, and unintelligent folks who feed off of the pain of others. I’m not self conscious anymore about letting those special to me know I love them, life’s too damn short, I know it’s fucking cliche, but it’s so true. You don’t know if you will get another chance to tell them you love them (death, earthquakes, scientology, asteroids!), Keeping expectations low in return is good for character development. Love is the most beautiful and intoxicating of human feelings. Feel good about being mature enough to be vulnerable.
The death of Chef Anthony Bourdain by suicide was pretty demotivational for me. Like many folks I was inspired by him and his writing and saw myself in him. I wrote something a while ago about him before his death, I remember not being able to sleep and having to type it out:
“By the time I had given up on college and gave in to cooking, while being a student at a 3rd rate cooking school, the best selling book Kitchen confidential was all the rage. I read it and of course loved it, which led to reading Anthony Bourdain’s following works. I didn’t love it for the shock factor most got out of it, I was raised in restaurants and bars therefore, I was raised by the types of characters that readers found so shocking in Bourdain’s expose about the industry. These are my peeps, the criminals, the crazies, the misfits, the lost boys (and girls) of the blue collar biz. Really none of his wild tales seemed out of this world to me, but the pleasure of the read was being able to relate and read a tale that you have in essence experienced to some degree, New York, NY is a bit different than my hometown and my current town of Portland, but I instantly felt a camaraderie with him.”
I think he will always remain a reminder to me that we are all mere mortals and that even those with what we want have their own demons to contend with. There were other losses of those I grew up with and at this time I don’t think I should elaborate more than saying that I never felt so hyper aware of how fragile existence is and how heavy it is…..dark….I am so worried mine will pass and I won’t appreciate it enough.
School is going back into session on Monday, and with every year that passes (way to fast!) I realize I don’t have any more babies….my son said something funny the other day, I was making him some soup for lunch, as I served him a bowl he looked at it and said “what?! No garnish?” he just turned 7 on the 4th of July. I put a quenelle of pesto on it and he looks at me and says “now that’s more like it”, he is sooo spoiled, to his future spouse…I’m sorry(kinda), but you better be able to cook..or at least good with garnishing LOL!
I like cooking a lot, but I don’t know if I want to try and emulate/cook other chefs food forever. Besides the fact, I would like to try my hand at running my own thing….Portland’s food scene for all its splendor doesn’t have as much souvlaki as a beer drinking city needs to have. I already have a pretty killer playlist put together for service…LOL. I’ve learned so much at every restaurant I have worked, and that education is beyond valuable, I am so much better than I was when I was actually way more confident in my skills. The more you hone your craft the more you realize you don’t know Jack! I am not ready to put my money where my mouth is anyhow. It takes a lot of courage, and financiers to run a risky biz like a restaurant. Like my dad always said growing up “Money talks, jive ass walks”. Plus having a restaurant, and doing it right, takes your entire life and dedication, I want desperately to travel as many places as I can. There has been a void in me ever since the mid nineties when my parents closed the restaurant, I think part of me feels that my work isn’t done here until I continue to keep the recipes and traditions of my blended family alive…I guess I do it here a little, but I love to cook for others and show my love to them, just as my family before me had. #itscomplicated I guess we will see what evolves….on that note I made surf and turf gyros!
I made the pita myself using Bon Apetit’s Recipe recipe, I added some toasted sesame seeds to the dough.
I grilled 2 pounds flat iron steaks marinated in my souvlaki marinade
Grilled shrimp, sprinkled them with “lemon pepper” before grilling on skewers
Not so secret sauce:
Equal parts:

• Tahini
• Greek yogurt
• Lemon juice
• Olive oil
• 3 cloves roasted garlic
• Herbs, a few tablespoons of fresh, I think parsley, dill, oregano, basil.
• Salt and pepper to taste
• Dash of red wine vinegar

Combine till smooth
Cucumber julienned
Tomatoes
You really can choose your own adventure here… I meant to add red onion but forgot!
Place ingredients on bread and enjoy!

OMFG! I have writer’s block like a mofo right now! Yikes….but honestly I think it is partially due to the fact that I don’t need the same level of outside vailiation from the internet I used to. Which I would say in a weird way is…progress. Furthermore I have been busy…for me…which is in no way busy for someone else…I am just speaking from personal perspective as I have no
other. I need to quit apologizing for things….someone told me apologizing too much makes you seem weak…which I am not. I was just in my hometown, as my mother has currently had some health/mobility issues. Watching your parents age is hard, and I think it may be because once you see them getting older you have to realize that you yourself are getting older as well, and that the clock ticks regardless of if you are ready for it. I also got an exceptional manicure, made it through all my shifts at work last week without a scratch! Impressive. Going back to where I come from is always emotional and strange, it was quite apparent to me this time that I have been gone a while, and how ill suited I am for the lifestyle there, which made me think that it is probably a good idea for people to move out of the 50 mile radius they were born in for a while, and if you leave and decide to go back than you know you are in the right place, but if you come back and it no longer seems like you are home, than you made the right choice to leave. It helps to gain perspective, and to figure out who you are without the huge burden of the expectations of others. I now thoroughly trust myself and my choices, whereas a decade ago I was constantly doubting myself in order to fit in a place that limited my unique qualities, how I look, progressive ideals, not to mention being judged by people who have already decided they dislike you based on the family you come from or the religion you follow or in my case don’t follow. I feel like the best gift I have ever given myself is that of reinvention, only possible by moving locations and I am now the happiest and most confident I have ever been! I’m not trying to sound judgemental at all, I just feel like moving out was the best thing I could’ve done for myself, and I would want this for anyone as it is incredibly liberating. It is hard to observe friends and family that are going through the same troubles I had but not knowing where to go next because they are “comfortable” in the only place they know. This time for the most part was good (I have lowered my expectations quite a bit which helps and I have figured out that your real friends make the effort to see you, screw the fakey haters, my fakedar is pretty good nowadays I can detect them a mile away and I pity the fools). I did have crazy insomnia this time, which is super sucktastic! The worst feeling I have had in while is being wide awake at 3am with a picture of yourself at 8 years old staring back at you. But for the most part I think I had great memories of the trip. Nuff said.
I need to talk about the March Degustabox, it was grand! Real good waffles, from Julian’s which I would totally use and pass off at my own! LOL. We loved the Oreo bar, the mint chocolate and cookies are the perfect mix of taste and texture.
The loacker crisp wafers were good but I probably would not buy espresso flavor since I have kids, but they were super good on mocha ice cream.
The 7days croissant was surprisingly fresh tasting! My kids loved it, it’s a little high in calories, fat, and sugar for more than a occasional indulgence. But if I was traveling and saw these I would buy one for some quick energy.
The Post great grains was really good, we will be buying this, it’s great as a granola alternative in yogurt. Will buy this again. Big pieces of almonds and coconut!
I liked the energy tea, it didn’t stand out from other similar products, I think I may be more of a coffee person.
The homebrew pickling packets were fun, the only critic I would have is that if you add all the dry ingredients, instead of having to add your own sugar, it would be more appealing to folks who don’t normally cook.
The brown rice milk from Elmhurst is a cool product, it is shelf stable, full of whole grain, and you can cook with it. I tried some and it is a bit watery to add to coffee, but I would consider using this in a tasty, vegan cream soup, or to make a vegan gravy with. It is a great product to have on hand when hosting vegans in your home or to make healthier choices easier.
On that note I will yap at ya later…..Happy cooking!

Well it’s been a rough go getting all my blog content switched over to AWS, but I think we are at a place now where I can get back to more frequent posting. I have officially binge-watched the entire “Ugly Delicious” series on Netflix…and I loved it! I do think the term “ugly” to describe tacos, pizza, and soup dumplings is weird…it’s not fine dining plating but I think regional cuisines have a certain style and technique that is truly stunning. Simplicity is the height of fashionable right now, from my perspective, and I would like to tell Kanye to get on making a bulletproof hoodie….as I think it could fit his branding well and I also think I want them for my kids! So Ye if you are reading this….send the royalties to mama!
After watching “Ugly delicious”, I found a lot of connection for me to the taco episode, Dave Chang was kinda being a hater about them, until he went to L.A. where his tune quickly changed after a few regional tastings. Where I grew up in Ogden, UT we always had a vibrant Hispanic community and growing up in my parents restaurants, I had many early caregivers and mentors of Mexican heritage. Today I work with some amazingly, talented, hardworking, and dedicated Mexican immigrants and I feel that they have a beautiful cultural heritage and it shows in their native cuisine. I felt really inspired to make my interpretation of Mexican cooking (gringo Mex with a dash of Tex, suck on that Bobby Flay!), it was also perfect because February’s Degustabox contained Mrs. Renfro’s Texas red beer salsa, and goya refried beans I wanted to test out. I instapotted (yeah, I have one, and I kinda, not totally, love it!) some pork sirloin roasts, super easy:

Get 2 pork sirloin roasts: cover with aleppo pepper, salt, pepper, granulated garlic.

Set instapot to saute mode and add 1 T. Peanut oil, add roasts and sear on all sides.

Add 1 Cup of stock or beer, and set to slow cook for 3 hours and 30 minutes

Shred!

I fried corn tortillas to a nice and crispy place, topped them with the Goya refried black beans, topped with pork, cheese, lettuce, and the Refro’s Salsa! The dish was a hit and super easy to get on the table on a weeknight. I would buy both those products again….the one thing about the salsa is it is a little on the sweet side, which is common with Tex Mex style jarred salsa, but the heat level gave a nice balance.
I made heart shaped pepperoni pizza for Valentine’s day with the Boboli thin crust, and boboli sauce. I wasn’t crazy about the sauce (here again the added sugar dull the tomato flavor for me), but my family didn’t seem to mind at all and the whole thing was consumed happily. I have always been a fan of Boboli’s crusts, they are convenient and tasty, I think my favorite way to use them is to make BBQ chicken pizzas.
The Tiger Tail mustard was a winner at our house, and at the price point it’s at I would choose this over the run of the mill supermarket yellow mustards.
I used the Thai inspired Spice Hunter rub in cooking liquid to steam large shrimp to serve in cocktails, the spice rub gave the shrimp a nice aromatic quality, and citrus kick. The cocktail sauce was made using the Sir Kensigtons Spicy ketchup, this ketchup made it easy to just stir in a little horseradish and make perfectly seasoned cocktail sauce. I liked both these products, and I am excited to use the rub on pork or chicken to grill.
I put the Luna bars in my kids lunches for school, and they loved them and wanted more when they got home! So in the future when I need a quick snack that they love and actually has nutritional value I would get them these.
The Lundberg family farms aged Cheddar chips were tasty with a “dorito-like” quality that everyone wants in a cheese flavored tortilla chip, so if you want a “healthyish” version of dortitos these could be a good replacement.
Well that’s all for today folks! Happy cooking.

Well in reflection of the last year I have a lot to think about and little to say. I’m not exactly sure I should be preaching any gospel at this point. I find all the online, self-righteousness and broadcasting quite corny, and in reading some of my “expired” old posts, I cringe. In 2018 I think I will be trying to disconnect from the wifi more, and be present with the real people in my life who breath the same air I do, don’t tell me what I want to hear but what I need to hear. Self-awareness is something that has been a goal of mine, taking responsibility for being wrong, standing up to bullies, and communication. But I would be lying if I told you I got it all figured out, Don Henley said it best “the more I know, the less I understand, all these things I thought I figured out I have to learn again”. I got no answers, no highfalutin moral code to follow, I did start using chlorophyll supplements this year and I would recommend that to everyone….but I am not going to tell you how, and what you should do to live your life, because i’m still figuring myself out and working through my own stuff. I would say if you are the type that post about how other people should let go of the past, when you have caused them hurt, you should save it…i’m sure Harvey Weinstein would love all his bad behaviors and those affected by it to “get over it” but that isn’t how it works, that is why we should all budget our time wisely in dealing with the energy of others, but make sure and stand up for yourself, we all die alone, you are best asset you have. I started this blog to work through my loneliness and isolation associated with my move 6 years ago, a bad reality T.V. experience, and to keep track of what I cook…..I have been vulnerable publicly, been embarrassed, and comforted by how others take my rantings, but mostly it’s just me thinking out loud, it’s entirely self indulgent and is not meant to insult anyone but I appreciate any reaction I can get and I do take feedback seriously . For those struggling with hurt, I would say to trust that the universe will take care of those who treat others like doormats…..give it time….some folks gotta learn the hard way. Kindness, humor, and resilience are the coping strategies I am going to use this year. And I am really glad I am invested in cryptocurrency…..that is the icing on the cake that was 2017! “Life ain’t a track meet, it’s a marathon.” -Ice Cube

All aboard the Bitcoin express!