Want to eat a salad that will really make you feel like spring is here? Check out my first post on Marcus Samuelsson’s blog!
Happy Cinco de Mayo!
99.9% of the cells in my body were born of pasta and marinara sauce. I mean, there’s probably a cheeseburger thrown in there somewhere. A hint of Chinese take-out.
But that’s really and truly as ethnic as it gets.
How. Banal.
My brother has a knack for keeping me on edge.
I like to tell myself it’s just a phase. And that it will end soon. But it’s been almost 22 years. I should give up hope.
He called me last night at 10:43 PM and asked me if I was watching television.
(You should know that I don’t own a television. And neither does anyone in our apartment. Now you see why I have time to write a food blog. You people are my one and only favorite late night show.)
When I said no, he told me to turn on the television.
You see what I mean?
When he realized just how far he could go with this, he asked me if I knew what was going on. Of course, at this point, I’m thinking bombs. Assasinations. Terrorist plots. Mass murderers. National disasters. Apocalypse.
I’m a very positive person, as you can tell.
My mother likes to entangle herself in other people’s lives.
She wants to know all of your personal sordid details. All the time.
I think my brother and I bore her. Just a little bit. We have no sordid details.
We do, however, have review books! And index cards!
And most favorite customer status at Staples!
Those don’t interest her.
And well. My sister? She probably does have sordid details…but she’s so young that my mother wants nothing to do with them. Don’t ask, don’t tell, ya know? Although it’s probably more like, my mother asks and my sister stares her down in the silent and stolid way that 15 year old’s do. You know how it goes.
I am slowly but surely learning that all of life’s most important lessons can be learned from baking.
First there was the mint chocolate cupcake debacle in which I learned (a) that sometimes listening to authority really is important to do, (b) sometimes listening to authority involves actually reading directions and not deciding that you are the queen of cupcake baking and so rules and ingredient lists do not apply to you, and (c) when your gut instinct tells you that your batter is too dense…then it’s probably right. Because your gut instinct has eaten a lot of batter.
After a failed attempt at a post-marathon run this weekend in which all of my old injuries plus some potential new ones decided to rear their ugly heads, I did what any normal person would do. And tried to drown my sorrows in peanut butter.
But really, as delicious as peanut butter is, it doesn’t really solve any problems. Sure, it tastes great for the first few spoonfuls, but then it starts to feel like a bad one night stand. So then you, again, do what any normal person would do and attempt to throw it out of your room or out your window or whatever you do with those guys who you really just don’t want to wake up to the next morning (no judgment).
(Not that I would know anything about this. Right now, the only one night stands I’m having are with my medical boards review book. And that’s more like a six week stand than a one night stand. However, it will probably culminate in me throwing something out of my window. Or in me hopping on a plane to San Francisco to restart my life as a fugitive/pastry chef. So really…maybe they are pretty similar.)
(And no. I’m not joking about that last part.)
Welcome to Eats Well With Others, where we take a vegetable-and-cupcake laden approach to life (always with a bit of laughter on the side)!
