Ancient post, unearthed!

Blog maintenance. It goes a long way. I'm sifting through un-posted posts, and came across this one from 3+ years ago... I thought it would retain some sort of date stamp, but no, it comes through as brand new.

Let's see what else I can discover...


Shrimp, how I love thee... let me count the ways!

Our recent little vacation began with lunch at Blackbeard's On The Beach, where I ordered a spicy grilled shrimp dish. It tasted exactly like the sort of thing we'd make at home, which got me wondering why we never had yet. I immediately made a note to try to recreate it at my earliest opportunity. I thought/hoped that would be today... but disorganization led me to not having the right ingredients. So, while tonight's dinner was definitely not the same thing I enjoyed so much... it was inspired by that dish. And it turned out really yummy. Hard to go wrong with shrimp!

About 1 pound shrimp, peeled and deveined
1/2 of a normal yellow onion, chopped small (mine was a gigantic mutant onion, so I used less than 1/4)
1 stalk celery, chopped small
2-3 tablespoons coconut oil and/or bacon fat
1 cup tomato sauce
1/2 tsp spicy Asian garlic chile sauce thing
1/4 cup chicken stock, or more as needed
1/2 tsp salt
10 or so grinds black pepper
1/4 tsp sweet smoked paprika (trying for some smoky grill flavor)
chopped fresh cilantro
cooked rice

Pardon My French

Happy 100th birthday, Julia Child!

In honor of the late culinarian, we had a Feast of Butter. Cod Meuniere (couldn't find any sole), mashed potatoes (which I actually peeled, bein' fancy), sauteed green beans with onions and white wine, and a grated carrot salad. And, of course, a lovely bottle of Sauvignon Blanc, because one can not toast Mrs. Child with ice water.

I generally make up for the lack of cream in my mashed potatoes by adding insane amounts of butter. And a little chicken stock. And did so tonight... but they were still the most-boring food on the plate. The carrot salad was surprising- once I finally added enough salt it was quite tasty. The bit of wine for a braise on the beans was phenomenal, especially as the onions absorbed so much of it. The fish was absolutely amazing. So very easy to make and so, so, so tasty. It went with the Kendall-Jackson Sauv Blanc beautifully. I am not sure how authentically-French any of it was, beyond the fish, but I do know that it was fantastic.

I worked from this recipe for the salad, substituting mandarin-infused olive oil for the peanut oil.

For the cod, I followed Julia's guidelines. Melt one tablespoon each of butter and olive oil in a large pan. Salt and pepper the fillets, dredge in flour (Better Batter flour worked for a gluten-free option) and saute 1 or 2 minutes on each side. Don't overcook. If it flakes, it's too done. Remove the fish to plates and sprinkle with freshly-chopped parsley. Wipe out the pan (she said... ha... I had fish sticking all over the place) and add two more tablespoons of butter, swishing it around and letting it brown lightly. Take off the heat, add the juice of half a lemon, and the pour over the cooked fish.

I'm doing this for all the fish I cook forever. SO fucking good. Pardon my French. I am so full.

Coupon Rant 2.0.1

How do Cheerios make you feel? General Mills wants to know. Their ad, beside their coupon in this Sunday's paper, is the word "Smile" with the "i" dotted with a Cheerio. How cute. Then they ask you to "share what Cheerios means to you" on Facebook.

Yes, really.

Do you need to grab a tissue while you recount the many happy childhood moments you spent with an O-shaped cereal? Perhaps you spent some cute minutes with a toddler who was happily gumming them, while learning to get the contents of his fists to his mouth. Maybe you shared a bowl with a child before they went to school. Maybe it was what you poured yourself every Saturday morning before you sat down to watch cartoons, letting your parents sleep in. But I can assure you that the contents of the bowl were not the source of the warm fuzzies.

If you've read my blog before, you might recall that I think food and feelings ought to be separate. Don't get me wrong, I love food. I love tastes, textures, combinations, and trying new things. But I know that food does not equal love. It is not a refuge, a security blanket, a big bowlful of happiness, a ray of sunshine on a cloudy day... and it's very important that it stay that way. We, as a nation, are getting fatter every year BECAUSE food = love for so many of us.

So, f*ck you, General Mills. Do you want to know what Cheerios mean to me? Nothing. A box full of extruded, damaged, phytate-laden, allergenic, inflammation with sprayed-on artificial vitamins and minerals. It is less nutritious than the box it comes in. There are no feelings in a box of Cheerios. There is no meaning beyond the implication that whoever eats the product cares more for convenience than they do for their health.

Then I flipped the page and saw an ad for a new Ensure product. Proudly proclaiming it's greatness due to the fact that it has:
zero fat.
3 times more protein than juice (er... that's not a feat, really, since juice generally has NO protein.)
21 vitamins and minerals.
That your body will completely ignore.
Because not only are they artificial, but that zero fat content makes them even more rejected by your body.
Gah.

Also in this batch of coupons was a high-powered cleaner bragging about it's ability to remove grease. Because we all have that problem, don't we? Grease spatters on our stovetops (or walls and floors, if you're really having fun in the kitchen.) The stuff dries into gluey, sticky, hard-as-resin spots. I've been there. I've scrubbed with a wire brush after soaking in hot soapy water, to no avail. And then I learned something very, very important. To quote John Edwards, it doesn't have to be that way. Do you know WHY something that was once slippery and fluid transforms into super glue? Because it's damaged. Vegetable oils are not heat stable. And yet we cook with them. Cooking = heat, right? We are cooking with, and then ingesting, damaged, chemically-altered, rancid oil-turned-glue. That's not good, folks.
I've noticed an amazing thing, since switching to saturated, healthy fats (coconut oil, lard, butter, tallow)... everything is really easy to clean. I don't need nonstick cookware. I don't need wire brushes or bottles full of grease-eating chemicals. My fat spatters don't transform into glue. It's just that easy.

And finally, today's WTF Award goes to a product in the ad for our local grocery store. The focus of the ad this week was "back to college," just like it always is this time of year. All the "essential" items for young adults, off on their own for the first time. Apparently our young adults are in no way ready to be off on their own, if the ad is any example. Right there on page two, at the top of page two was an egg scrambler. Next to a happy little display plate, to show us the sort of incredible feats of kitchen magic that we could produce if only we had our very own egg scrambler- a plate with eggs and bacon and some other goodness. Ta-da! Problem solved! Have you ever woken up hungry, but didn't want to drive to McKing for breakfast? What a conundrum! How will you eat? You have eggs... you have a pan to cook them in (or, probably, know how to nuke them)... but how to get the eggs... scrambled?  It's like some sort of Julia Child witchcraft. Damn you, Rachel Ray, for not having a show on this topic!!! But wait, here we have our very own egg scrambler. It looks like a mini chopper, of the kind that survive about 4 onions or 3 ice cubes. Eggs, being so much softer, will probably extend it's lifespan. Thank the gods. We can now launch our young people into the world, knowing they are fully prepared to feed themselves at least once a day.

Or else they could stir the eggs with a fucking fork.


This rant's for you, Chris. Cheers and happy birthday!

Can a mama get a beer?

It still surprises me how many of the people I suggest go gluten-free come back with the question "does that mean I can't drink beer?" It's probably second only to "but what will eat instead of BREAD?"
Luckily, it's a good time to be gluten-free. It is, after all, what all the cool kids are doing, so more and more replacement foods are being made available. And more and more breweries are doing their damnedest to make gluten-free beer.
Today we celebrated a Day of Debauchery and Gluttony, in response to our governor's ill-advised mixing of politics with religion, aka The Response, a day of fasting and prayer. We had a lovely, extravagant dinner, and then I indulged in a tasting of THREE gluten-free beers. Tee hee. I hope to get this all typed before I get too silly.

I realize now that perhaps a few photos would have really jazzed this up. Darn.

Anyway, thanks to my husband, it was a blind tasting (he wrote down which beer glass was on which coaster) so I could feel all scientific and such. My tasting terms leave a lot to be desired, but... I am who I am. And who I am is a laid-back beer lover who uses fancy words like "yum" and "tastes like beer." The latter is high praise for a gluten-free offering.

The line-up: New Grist, New Planet Tread Lightly Ale, and Bard's.

New Grist is growing in popularity, but not yet available here in Texas. I have to have family and friends bootleg it to me from Kansas whenever they pass through. It was the palest of the three, a lovely straw yellow, but had surprising caramel notes on the first few tastes. Very fizzy, after it warmed up just a bit I noticed a slight tartness, and then a very noticeable wine-like flavor. Not really high praise for a beer, but drinkable, and so much better than the widely-available Redbridge swill, that it was my 2nd favorite of the evening.

New Planet's Tread Lightly Ale was next, a shade darker than the New Grist. Let me just mention that New Planet has several gluten-free offerings, one of which has given me a new reason to live- Off Grid Pale Ale. But, that was not in the tasting tonight because, despite it's name, it is not "pale." I wanted to taste beers that were somewhat similar. The Tread Lightly had slight citrus, was sweet, and grew even sweeter with successive tastes. It had a lingering aftertaste that I can't say I really enjoyed. I wrote down that it tasted a touch like beery sweet tea. It got my lowest ranking. If I could have given it something lower than 3rd place, I probably would have. Still better than Redbridge. Then again, water is better than Redbridge.

I saved the darkest beer for last, assuming it might have a stronger flavor. And it kind of did. The Bard's had a slight flavor of char, which is a good thing in my book. I love grilled food, love the smell of woodsmoke and food grilling, and would burn cigars as incense if the stupid things would stay lit. Char goes a long way with me. It seemed to have a bit less complex flavor than the New Grist, but I still chose it as my favorite. The slightly darker taste makes it suit a wider variety of occasions. Since my favorite regular beer of all time is Guinness Extra Stout, and I particularly crave such in the depths of winter, I like a beer that might be able to stand in it's place. Bard's is nowhere near Guinness, but... of the three I tasted tonight, it's the closest.
Lucky for me, it's also the only one of the three that I can actually get my paws on here in Texas. Knowing that- that I blindly picked the one I can actually get- is priceless. Oh, and my gluten-vore husband declared the Bard's to be "the beeriest" of the three. High praise, indeed.

I love beer. I miss real beer. Every now and then I go crazy and have one and pay for it with aching joints for the next three days. I'm learning to love my gluten-free options and yearning for the day when I have the free time to tinker with some recipes on my own.

I see stupid people.

I hope to blog more in 2011. I'll begin with a rant. (Please don't hurt yourselves as you climb back into your chairs after falling over in shock. You can't sue me for any damages caused by spitting coffee on your laptop, either.)

I hate ads.

Y'all might have noticed this.

Well, I don't hate all ads. I just... hate being manipulated. I hate being told what to feel and when to feel it. I hate the entire sheeple/herd mentality thang. Each month of the year seems to have it's own official, Buy-N-Large-sanctioned attitudes and goals. In case we don't catch on from TV ads, the coupon section of the paper lets us know what we ought to be eating, washing ourselves with, and longing for.

And I hate that. I'm a rebel at heart. I live with my low-level irritation toward advertising, only occasionally bursting forth with growls and epithets when I'm unable to ignore a TV commercial or coupon ad. The Sunday paper coupons are an especially-rich fodder for my rants. So, here goes....

See what's new from Kibbles 'n Bits. "The Bits make it better." This is just so stupid. First of all, the dog is just hungry. And possibly colorblind (I may need to check on that....) The dog would happily eat cat poop. I don't think the dog cares if his kibble has bits! I especially don't think the dog cares if his bits are colorful. And why on earth would the dog want them to be vegetable flavored?! Are we really so crazed with this our-dogs-are-our-babies psychosis that we think they need vegetables? Do wild dingoes feast on peas and carrots? I don't think so. It's just stupid.

"Catch a taste of the big game" says Cheez-It. Hmmm... assuming a game actually has a flavor, I think it would possibly be leather, dirt, grass, even blood. But not cheez. That's just stupid.

"Got a cold? Confused what to get" Robitussin actually paid people to develop a phone app to help people figure out which bottle of medicine to buy. Because, apparently, even after they paid the art department to develop helpful box graphics which clearly state in large, bright letters the symptoms treated by each particular bottle... it wasn't enough. People are slowly loosing their ability to read static print material. If it doesn't come in an app, it's too hard. And, yes, I realize the ad is telling about the app in static print. But fear not, there's a little picture widget thingy that you can take a picture of with your phone, which apparently will magically direct you to the app or website. What the hell? That's just stupid!

And finally... I've saved what I think is the most-idiotic, most-pandering, most-intelligence-insulting piece of marketing drivel for last. "His winning lineup (because it's almost the Super Bowl, so all advertising must be done in game language... how clever and original....) Strength for him, value for you."
Pardon my Valley Girl, but... gag me with a spoon.
I am insulted on so many levels. My feminist side is sputtering. My intelligent side is speechless. My hope-for-humanity side is in the corner, crying.
I took a Women's Studies class way back in college. My term paper was a comparison of the advertising in three different decades of Ladies Home Journal. I recall being jaw-droppingly aghast at the glaring "buy this so you can get married" theme behind all the stuff from the 40s. It got a little better in the 60s. Better still by the 80s. And now we seem to be headed right back in time. I *know* that the average coupon-peruser will skim right past all the sexism and stupidity in this ad line. But somewhere in their subconscious, it will lurk. And the constant barrage of similarly stupid, sexist ads really does add up. It becomes accepted. It becomes the norm. It shapes opinions, just like they want it to. They work really, really hard to direct our behavior, so I would prefer they at least be politically-correct with the brainwashing.

What's so bad about it? First of all, just the absurd notion that a man's choice in shaving razor does ANYthing beyond determining the amount of hair left on his face. Razors cut hair. That's it. They do not give you a better job. They do not give you skinny, busty women who caress your face. They certainly do NOT give you strength. That's just stupid. Secondly, I resent the assumption that only women are looking at the coupons. I hate the entire June Cleaver universe it implies. My life does not revolve around my man or his facial hair or his strength.

Ah, well. I do at least glean a little pleasure from knowing they do NOT have me pegged. That whole rebel thang. I am not skimming through the coupons, in search of value. No. I am looking for something to piss me off, so I can share it with you.

Coupon RANT!

Blshvrddtygrrrddle.

I know it's not a word, but at least it's not profanity.

I actually got goosebumps and dizziness from my outrage this morning. That's a first for me. Wish I had gotten a picture of my arms, to prove it.
Anyway, there I was, on the last page of the last coupon insert from the Sunday paper. I had slogged through, as usual, no longer expecting more than irritation from the usual crappy coupons for phood.

And there it was.


I have never been a fan of Easy Bake Ovens. I was a big ol' meany and didn't let my son have one during his excitement for all things cooking. Their mixes were crap and I didn't want him to think that adding water = cooking. But, now I see, at least it was an oven.

2010 is here, baby, and that means advancements, progress, moving forward. How shall we teach our younglings? Easy Bake Microwave & Style Kit. Because, microwaves are where it's at, and the focus really should be on the brightly-colored sugar on top, not the spongy cake-like transport.

Ugh.

Microwaves suck. They damage the proteins of food so much that the body can barely recognize them as sustenance. I don't use ours. My husband does, occasionally. Microwaves are fast, I'll grant them that, but I don't think we need to be that ADD about our food. PLAN AHEAD. Know that you will likely be hungry 5 times a day, at predictable times. Have stuff on hand. Start cooking BEFORE you're dizzy and weak.

If you want a brightly-colored pancreas-bomb, bake one. It really, swear-to-god, doesn't take that long. Especially if you make tiny ones. There are plenty of silicone bake sets for teeny little cakes. Mixing, from scratch, takes 15 minutes, tops. The oven can preheat while you're at it. Baking bite-size cakelets would take about 15-20 more minutes. Clean up the kitchen and make frosting (it's seriously just butter + sugar... it's a no-brainer.)

They won't be health food, but they will fall into the category of food with an "f." Which is a vast improvement these days. Unfortunately.

I. Can't. Eat. Butter.

My long-time readers may need to sit down for this. You all situated? Comfy? Ok...

I have been butter-free for two weeks.

Jack (9 months old) is feeling better.

I no longer feel that familiar brain-fog/exhaustion after breakfast. (Seems *I* only react to breakfast butter... other-times-of-day butter don't make me feel like someone slipped me cheese.) But Baby Jack seems gets Green Acid Poo Of Doom from any-time-of-day butter.

In Food Allergy World, these items of note combine to create a diagnosis of You Can't Eat Butter Anymore.

I have very strong feelings about this. I worship at the altar of Mother Butter and Father Bacon. Now my goddess is dead (blasphemy!) I worry because now I'm using more coconut oil than I was before... still have to get my fats, you know... and I'm allergic to coconut protein. Perchance the coconut oil is more pure than the butter? Still no idea whether ghee is ok... haven't acquired a taste for it, so I haven't used it enough to know. I'll get on that eventually.

Eggs were back on my menu and then gone again. I find myself needing to google "vegan" recipes. I swear to add meat to every single one of them!

In other news, I swear I'll be revamping this poor redheaded step-child of a blog. Soon. My version of "soon" means, well, hopefully before the end of 2010, but don't put money on it. I see that I have a whopping 9 faithful followers, so I'm excited to make this thing pretty and easier to use. I envision a fancy bloggiful launch, complete with merchandise.



I miss you, Butter. But I know you shall not remain dead to me forever. I still swear undying loyalty, and my lips shall touch not the cursed margarine! (Because, really, what could they possibly make it out of that I'm not allergic to?!)