Monthly Archives: July 2009

Macaroni and Cheese: The Good Old Days

The Beast took me for dinner last week.  Do you want to know where he took me?  He took me to Harry’s Char Broil & Dining Lounge on Jameson, just south of King Street.  Let me set the scene for those of you who aren’t familiar with this part of the city:

Foodie:  (walking to Harry’s along Jameson)  Did you just see that pregnant lady smoking?

Beast:  Yes.

Foodie:  She was at least seven months along!  If you’re going to smoke when you’re pregnant you should be so shamed that you’d avoid doing it in public!  Why are we going to this place again?

Beast:  Because I just want an old-fashioned hamburger.  You know the kind?  Like a classic Banquet burger–from a high school cafeteria.

Foodie:  You’re paying, right?

The Beast opened the door to Harry’s for me and the interior looked like it had been lifted straight out of a Twin Peaks set, or hell.

Foodie:  Let’sgolet’sgolet’sgo–pleasepleasepleaseplease.

Beast:  No way!  It’ll be fine.

We stayed.  It was just what the Beast wanted.  I endured, only because our server was a real charmer.  But enough about Harry’s.  This post is about nostalgia.  

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The first meal I ever made for the Beast was my mom’s macaroni and cheese.  It was five years ago, and we had whisked ourselves away in the middle of January to the Beast’s family cottage.   I did all the grocery shopping of course and was quite manipulative in my meal choices.  That first night, I wanted to woo him with comfort food.  So I chose mac & cheese.  But I was a bit nervous to be honest, because the mac & cheese I grew up eating is quite different from other people’s.  For example, it has canned tomatoes in it, and it doesn’t call for bread crumbs.  I feared that the Beast would think me provincial.  But I trusted my instincts in the end.  Besides, I’ve never seen anybody eat just one helping.  

photoThe best part is that it’s dead simple to make: All you do is cook your macaroni, then layer it in a baking dish with diced up cheddar, onion, and smushed up canned plum tomatoes.  If you want, you can top it off with a little milk or cream.  That’s it.  Don’t even add salt & pepper–you can do that after it’s cooked.

My mom always serves her mac & cheese with corn, white kaiser buns, slices of dill pickle, and on occasion, slices of kielbasa sausage.  I have no idea why.  I still serve mine with the corn.  I’m shaking my head in disbelief as I think about it:  macaroni & cheese, with a side of corn.  But it just works. And it sure worked that first winter night at the cottage!  The Beast was silent as he ate, and I–not knowing him like I do now–interpreted his silence as him being gastronomically unenthused.  Finally, I had to ask:

Foodie:  Sooooooooo…..what did you think of the macaroni?

Beast:  Amazing!  Is there more?

Foodie:  Of course there is.

The rest is history.  

photoI made macaroni & cheese last night in celebration of this blog’s one year anniversary, and it came out of the oven, all crispy on top, just in time to watch a new episode of Hell’s Kitchen.  We both had seconds.  The Beast had thirds.

 

Beast:  Whoa.  That was great.  What’s for dessert?

Foodie:  Are you serious?  Well, we do have a basket of Ontario peaches, and there’s vanilla ice cream.

Beast:  Ehh.  Aren’t those peaches hard?

Foodie:  They’re actually perfect today.  What are you doing?

Beast:  I’m getting up to change the channel (our remote control is broken).

Foodie:  But that new fat show is on next and I think I’d like to watch it.

Beast:  Not a chance. We’re watching the news.

photo[1]I didn’t argue.  We ate peaches and ice cream while watching the BBC news.  I learned a lot, like Nigeria isn’t looking so good these days, and you can make upwards of 90 000 bucks a year by pretending to be a witch at a British amusement park.  But once the Beast left to do the dishes, I turned it back to More to Love, a new “Bachelor” style reality TV show featuring rotund ladies vying to marry a rotund man.  I shouldn’t have.  I felt rotten and confused afterwards.  How could all those women fall in love, and I mean crazy-in-love, with a man after spending only minutes in his company?  Come to think of it though, all the Beast had to do was ask me to take tap-dancing lessons with him while he was wearing a hand-me-down cardigan that once belonged to his mother, and I was smitten for good.

Foodie:   **

Beast:  **

Beowolf Borgognione

IMG_0295Or rather, Bouef Borgognon. I have to look it up in the dictionary every single time I write it. From hence forward, I shall refer to as “beef stew”.

But this isn’t just any beef stew: I used Julia Child’s recipe from Mastering the Art of French Cooking. And guess what? You and everybody else who sees Julie & Julia–the Nora Ephron movie that comes out on August 7, will be making this beef stew too.

The Beast and I got to watch a sneak preview of the film, which flashes back and forth between Julia Child and her husband in the 1950s and Julie Powell her her husband in 2002. Powell had a blog that chronicled her cooking all 524 recipes from Child’s Mastering the Art of French Cooking in one year. I thought it was a charming movie, but the Beast was constantly being distracted with the lack of table manners displayed in the modern story line, particularly their talking with their mouths full. He wanted me to make his displeasure over this little detail public. I think he’s especially annoyed by loud chewers because he grew up in a household with four brothers. Dinnertime must have been like a feeding frenzy

But back to the stew: in the movie you get to see Bouef Borgognon being made. And the food-styling is so brilliant that I actually said out loud, ” I am going to make that!” Word of advise though: Give yourself a bit of time, like say, six fucking hours, because there are many IMG_0293steps–certainly more steps that I’m accustomed to.

First I had to brown the bacon, then I had to brown the beef, and then I had to brown the vegetables, and then you put all that junk in the oven and get the whole lot of it brown. And then you add red wine and stock and finally you can stick it back in the oven for three hours. While it’s cooking, you have to brown mushrooms and you have to brown these little baby onions. You add that to the stew once it’s cooked. Not surprisingly, the dish is pretty brown. Maybe that’s why Julia recommends serving it over boiled potatoes, with some peas on the side. Despite the stew’s colour, it was one of the best things I’ve ever cooked in my life.

I made it on Sunday afternoon with the idea that we’d enjoy it for dinner on Monday and Tuesday night. It was no easy feat to portion it over two evenings though:

Beast: That was so good. Is there more?

IMG_0300Foodie: You had a huge plate of food!

Beast: I didn’t eat all day though! I’m STARVING!

Foodie: Listen, I can give you more but then we won’t have enough for dinner tomorrow night. This is supposed to feed 6 people for chrissake! We have to start eating smaller portions: I bet we eat the same amount of food in a week that a family of four does.

Beast: BUT I’M STARVING! I’m going to eat a frozen pizza.

Foodie: Don’t you dare! I bought those pizzas for later on in the week! Don’t you see? I’m planning out meals ahead of time and you’re messing it all up because you’re a glutton. If you want more stuff to eat, maybe you should buy some groceries for yourself.

Beast: Heat up the oven.

Foodie: Stop being a joker. Was that good or was that good?

Beast: It was amazing! Can we get a baguette to eat with the stew tomorrow night? That will help fill me up more.

Foodie: Now there’s a good idea! Yes, we can get a baguette.

Beast: Is the oven pre-heated yet for my pizza?

He didn’t eat frozen pizza. I distracted him with watermelon and plums. An the stew was even better the next night, with the addition of the bread.

Foodie: ***1/2

Beast: ***


Snack Time at Yung Sing

photoFoodie: Good outfit!

Beast: What, this ole’ thang?

Foodie: I read that the Sartorialist is in town so if we wear good outfits maybe we’ll get our picture taken.

Beast: Who?

Foodie: He’s that guy that takes photos of ordinary, yet extremely stylish, people. When I email you photos of men and I write, “this is how you should dress,” the Sartorialist takes those photos and posts them on his blog. Time magazine named him as one of the top 100 design influencers you know.

Beast: Are you ready yet? The AGO closes at 5:30pm.

Foodie: Well now I have to change my outfit and coordinate it with yours.

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Beast: You’re joking, right?

Foodie: It’ll be cute if I wear a sweatshirt and jeans too, don’t you think?

Beast: Cute? Please hurry.

The Beast and I, dressed in our complementing outfits, headed to the AGO on Saturday afternoon to look at some Surrealist and Dadaist art. Whenever we’re in that neck of the woods, we try and visit Yung Sing Pastry Shop on Baldwin. My friend Tom first introduced me to this tiny place years ago.

photoPickings were slim by the time we got there: no more pork buns or sesame balls. But we did snag the last curried beef bun along with two of Yung Sing’s top-selling shrimp rolls, and some vegetable rolls too. Then we sat out front at the picnic table to enjoy our snack.

photo

Foodie: What’s your favourite?

Beast: I think the shrimp roll.

Foodie: Me too! We are sooo similar! We even dress the same!

Beast: What was your favourite thing that you saw at the AGO?

Foodie: I thought the Surrealist costumes for that ballet were pretty funny. If they had that tight striped costume for sale in the gift shop, I would have bought it for you.

Beast: Thanks. You know what I think? I think Surrealist art is pretty much tantamount to basic bad taste.

Foodie: Not like our outfits. These are in good taste.

Beast: Speak for yourself.

While our costumes may have been mediocre, our snacks at Yung Sing were anything but. In fact, they completely satisfied our Saturday afternoon desire for a little culture and for a lot of deep-fried delights.

Foodie: **1/2. Actually, make that *** (the service is extremely friendly.)

Beast: ***

The Beast Makes Dinner

The Beast and I made a date last night to meet at the Varsity Cinema to watch Brüno. I had some time to kill beforehand, so I rode my bike to eat some french fries made by Jaime Kennedy’s kid at the Riverdale Farmers’ Market. Four dollars got me a paper cone filled with golden, crispy little fries tossed generously in salt and a little fresh thyme. I also found a bakery stall, St. John’s Bakery, and unlike most bakery stalls that I’ve come across at Toronto’s farmers’ markets, this one was selling goods made with actual butter, white flour, and eggs, rather than hemp, spelt and tofu. So I picked up sticky cinnamon buns, plus some cookies–both oatmeal and dark chocolate for movie snacks.

(Outside the cinema, after watching Brüno.)

Beast: I’m sorry I shh’ed you during the movie.

Foodie: Oh that’s okay. Was I really laughing that loud?

Beast: It wasnt’ so much your laughing, it was your talking. Right before particularly jarring scenes you’d start squirming and then say out loud: “Oh no, it can’t be,” and “It’s not possible,” and “Ohmygod, ohmygod.”

Foodie: Really?

Beast: I think when people get older they lose that faculty of being conscious of thinking out loud. What do you want for dinner?

Foodie: To be honest, after all those delicious baked treats, I’m not that hungry. What if we just make a big salad?

Beast: Sounds perfect.

Foodie: Great. We have fancy croutons and bacon at home. Can you pick up a head of romaine and a jar of Renée’s caesar salad dressing from Sobey’s when you get off the streetcar? (I was on my bike.) Only buy Renée’s, okay?

Beast: Okay. I’ll see you at home.

photo[1]I got home first. When I went upstairs to change, I was stunned by what I saw in our bedroom: somebody had gently laid down three collared shirts on top of the dirty clothes hamper. Somebody didn’t even take the time to lift the lid of the hamper and put the dirty shirts in there. And somebody put these dirty shirts there after I just finished doing all of our laundry.

And then, someobody arrived home.

Foodie: (yelling from the top of the stairs) May I speak with you for a moment up here please?!

Beast: Can’t talk now, I have to make dinner!

I found the Beast in the kitchen emptying out his shopping bags.

Beast: They didn’t have Renée’s so I bought this no-name brand.

Foodie: Oh we’re returning that. I bought it once before in a pinch and it’s terrible. No joke. I’m not trying to be difficult, but it’s truly inedible.

Beast. No bother. We don’t need salad. I’ve got another plan.

Foodie: And what’s that?

I didn’t need to ask. I could see plain as day that the Beast was unpacking a bag of tortilla chips, a container of hummus, a container of guacamole and pre-packaged garlic bread–the kind that comes all wrapped in foil.

photoFoodie: We’re having garlic bread and chips with dip for dinner?

Beast: Yes! And I’m going to grate cheddar cheese onto the garlic bread!

Foodie: Don’t use the Microplain to grate the cheese- use the regular grater.

Beast: Don’t be so bossy! I like it this way. The cheese melts better. Why were you yelling at me when you were upstairs?

Foodie: Well now I feel bad telling you since you’re making us such a lavish dinner, but here goes: when you have dirty clothes, can you please not hide them in your closet and then put them on top of the hamper seconds after I do all the laundry?  And stop putting clothes on the hamper lid!  Do you want everybody to read about your poor behaviour in F & B?

Beast: You’re being the effing B!

Foodie: Wow. That was good.

Beast: Thanks. Now since I’m made dinner, I get to choose what we watch while we eat.

Foodie: What did you have in mind?

imagesBeast: A documentary by Louis Malle on India.

Foodie: NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!! Please let me find something good to watch on the television! Maybe Canada’s Next Top Model is on!

Beast: Nope. We’re watching the India documentary. Maybe you’ll learn something.

We did watch the documentary. I fell asleep about 15 minutes in, after consuming 5 chips with packaged dip and the butt end of one of the Beast’s cheesy garlic sticks. And I did learn something: I can’t send the Beast unsupervised to grocery stores, unless I want to eat shit for dinner.

Foodie: 1/2* (for the Beast’s enthusiasm)

Beast: ***** (he knows the top score is four stars but he insisted on the five.)

Nota Bene is Buono

On the steps of the AGO on Thursday at 5:30pm:photo

Beast: I want my money back.

Foodie: How do you mean?

Beast: When we bought our annual memberships we were under the impression that this place would be open late Wednesday through Friday nights and now they’re closed and it’s 5:30pm on a Thursday. They should refund a portion of our membership fee.

Foodie: Why are you wearing a shirt that hasn’t been ironed?

Beast: It was in my closet.

Foodie: Why don’t we just walk over to Nota Bene now? I’m sure they’ll have a table for us.

Beast: Are you really sure you want to go there?

Foodie: We’re celebrating, so yes! (The beast co-wrote some original music for a Fringe dance performance. Eye magazine called it, a glitchy set of folky electronica [that is] extraordinary. I decided to take him for a fancy dinner before going to see the piece performed at The Factory Theatre. And we decided to meet at the AGO before dinner to see the new summer Surrealism show.)

Beast: If you say so. Do you think I could pop into that record shop on St. Patrick? It’s on the way.

Foodie: Sure. It’s your night. Just don’t buy anything.

(Walking out of the record shop, with a bag full of goods under the Beast’s arm)

Beast: Listen, I’ve been looking for this Thelonius Monk record (It’s Monk’s Time) for a really long time! And we can watch this DVD of Charles Mingus’ sextet playing in Europe together!

Foodie: Spend your money how you like but I’m saving for Italy.

Beast: But it was your idea to go for an expensive dinner!

Foodie: That’s different.

When we got to Nota Bene, it turned out they didn’t have a table at the early-bird hour of 5:50pm. But they did have plenty of room in the front lounge where people can order anything they want. We were seated at a lovely window table with a view of Queen Street West.

Foodie: This isn’t so bad: we’re the only ones here so it’s nice and romantic. How much better could the actual dining room be?

Beast: They certainly wouldn’t get this charming view of the Condom Shop across the street.

Because we were the only ones in her section, our server was very attentive to our needs. The Beast started with a pint of beer and I chose a glass of rosé (Niagara’s Megalomanic) I could see her watching us as we looked over the menu, ready to pounce as soon as our decisions were made. It took us a long time, or rather, it took me a long time to decide. I usually know exactly what I want when I go out to eat, but I had no such luck tonight. Intuitive super-server appeared table-side in a flash.

Server: Do you have any questions about the menu?

Foodie: Why yes, I do. How good is the suckling pulled pork?

Server: It’s very good: excellent, and very rich.

Beast: That’s what I’m having.

Foodie: I can’t order it then.

Beast: We are both allowed to order the same thing you know.

Foodie: It just doesn’t seem right.

Beast: Well, there’s that old saying: you can never have too much suckling pig.

Server: I haven’t heard that but yes, I suspect it’s true.

photo[1]In the end, the Beast chose the the crispy duck salad to start, and the suckling pig. I decided on the zucchini flower salad, followed by the scallops. We also ordered frites to share.

Foodie: I think we should do a special F & B for Julia Child’s birthday on August 7.

Beast: Since when do you refer to your blog as F & B? I’m beginning to think F & B has become too self-conscious.

Before we could further discuss this, our appetizers appeared.

Foodie: How’s your duck? It looks over-cooked–I don’t see any pink at all.

Beast: It tastes like really fatty, greasy bird. It’s good. How are your zucchini flowers?photo 09-48-37

Foodie: Delicious. Looks like they’ve been coated in some parmigiano and then deep-fried.

Beast: You mean parmesan?

Foodie. Yes, parmigiano. And there’s some arugola, capers, balsamic vinegar and roasted peppers too. It’s quite nice. But I think zucchini flowers are best served deep-fried in a simple light flour batter. You know what? I think I’m turning into an old Italian man: I’m most satisfied with familiar, simple flavours, like some grilled Barese sausage, or a plate of good prosciutto with some cheese. Less is more.

That certainly rang true regarding our company: as time passed, more and more people began to congregate in the lounge. In fact, there was a group of six or seven business men standing directly behind us drinking white wine.

Foodie: I hope I never wear a BlackBerry in one of those little holsters attached to my waist.

Beast: I would rather kill myself, or live in poverty.

Foodie: Tell me, has it become fashionable for men to have their pants hemmed so short? Look at their pants. Look at how short they are! This place must be a real destination spot of the Bay Street type. Somebody should tell them about their pants, and somebody should show them how to properly hold a wine glass–they’re getting their grubby little fingerprints all over the bowl of the glass. That’s why there’s a stem you know–so you don’t muck up the bowl.

Beast: So you’ve told me again, and again…

Server: May I get you another glass of rosé?

Foodie: You know what? I’m going to switch to the Barbara d’Alba. No, wait–I forgot I ordered the scallops.

Beast: Oh come on! There are no rules tonight! Order the whatever-you-called-it! Live on the edge!

Foodie: You’re right! Yes, I’ll have a glass of the Barbara d’Alba

My wine and our two main dishes arrived simultaneously, and each item was carried by three different staff members.

photo[2] 09-48-37Foodie: I have to say the service here is seamless. But they should rethink the uniforms: the little vests they’re wearing look dopey. It makes them look like Mennonites. How is your pig?

Beast: Amazing!

It was amazing, but oh-so-rich. The shredded suckling pork was served on a savoury tart, topped with big chunks of boudin noir (blood sausage), mushrooms, maple-smoked bacon and a touch of truffle oil. My scallops, accompanied with a little pineapple, jicama, coriander, and snap peas–were much lighter. I don’t think I’ve ever ordered scallops. I thought they were good but the Beast was underwhelmed by them. The fries, however, were a huge hit.

Foodie: I keep looking at the hair that’s popping out between your buttons. I can’t believe you wore that shirt.

Beast: Who cares! Look at that guy: he’s wearing Crocs! And that guy is wearing tights!

Foodie: Who’s wearing tights?

Beast: Don’t look now but it’s the man beside you.

Foodie: Oh my God he is wearing tights! Do you think that woman he’s with is a call girl?

Beast: What makes you say that?

Foodie: Well, she was here before him, waiting. Then when he arrived they introduced themselves to each other like it was the first time they met and now she’s practically sitting on his lap.

Beast: You could be right.

photo[3]Neither of us felt much like ordering dessert but we still needed just a little something to finish off the meal. So we decided on the choose-your- own cheese plate. The choice wasn’t easy but we settled on the creamy Riopelle, the really old Beemster, and a unpasteurized Roquefort.

Beast: This is the best blue cheese I’ve ever had.

Foodie: I agree. It just sort of melts right in your mouth, but not before giving your tongue a little kiss. Do you remember the first time we tried Brie de Meaux? It changed my whole perception of brie cheese. Don’t you agree?

Beast: I guess so.

Foodie: Or should I say, do you abrie or disabrie? Hahaha.

Beast: (silence) Well, I can say that the suckling pork was truly excellent. It was incredible. But to be honest, this location sucks.

Foodie: The location is actually fantastic from a business perspective: they get the theatre crowd, the Bay Street crazies, and a whole load of tourists. It’s the crowd that sort of sucks. Maybe we suck though. Let’s get two espressos and the bill. We need to get moving to see this Fringe show.

I was pleasantly surprised at Nota Bene’s prices: that ample zucchini flower salad was only $13. And our generously portioned cheese plate was only $15. I bet the wholesale price of those three cheeses would have been at least $10.

Beast: Thank you so much for dinner. We don’t have to go to the Fringe show you know.

Foodie: Are you kidding me? I love contemporary dance! And I wouldn’t dream of missing the sight of four 20 something girls dancing to your music!

Beast: And afterwards we can watch that Charles Mingus DVD.

Foodie: Oh sweetie, it’ll be so late by the time we get home and I have to get up early. But you go ahead and watch it without me. I won’t be mad.

He did, and I wasn’t (mad.) The Beast’s music was indeed extraordinary. And our Nota Bene meal wasn’t half bad either.

Foodie: **1/2

Beast: ***1/2

Happy Canada Day to Me

Wednesday, July 1, 2009

photo[1]Oh I just love “alone time”.  I’m going to have just the best Canada Day by myself because the Beast is at work.  It’ll give me the chance to work on my novel/screenplay that I started in 2003.  Now where did I put those research notes.  Oh, here they are.  Maybe before I look at them I ought to make myself a Canada Day mojito.  We happen to have all the ingredients on hand so that must be a sign that I should indulge.  Okie-Dockie.  Now let’s see.  Oh this is funny–here are some notes I made after reading an essay by Pauline Kael.  How terribly precocious!  Oh, but this is charming–notes from that Italian cinema class I took when I lived in Florence.  There’s The Conformist, La Strada, Otto e Mezzo, The Sheltering Sky–looks like I really enjoyed the ending of that one because I even drew a little picture.    And I made notes about movies I watched outside of class too.  These notes were intended to inform my own screenplay:  There’s Jules and Jim, Ordinary People, My Dinner with Andre, Good Will Hunting, Raiders of the Lost Ark?  Well that one is sort of weird, isn’t it?  And Jaws too.  What’s this? Star Wars Episode I and II?  This is very embarrassing. 

I better just go straight to my story.  Let’s see how many pages I have saved so far in the computer.  I see three different drafts.   This one is only five pages.  How about this one?  Twelve pages. Much better.  (Reading.) Well this is just awkward.  This is just plain bad.  Oh dear.  The tenses are all messed up.  Plus, I don’t think it works as half-novel and half-screenplay.  And who’s narrating this piece of shit?  Oh boy do I feel frustrated.   I’m going to have a second mojito–just to clear my head because I can’t make heads or tails of this mess.

I’m a real jack-ass.  I need to delete all of this bullshit, and fast too before I have second thoughts.  I should start fresh!  YES!  No.  I shouldn’t be drinking alone right now.  I should go find the Beast in Nathan Philip’s Square and watch the Dave Brubeck quartet with him!  That would be so romantic!  I’d find him in the crowd and tell him that I tried to work on my literary masterpiece but I just didn’t have it in me today.  Then we could go get dinner.  Or, I could make photo[2] 12-35-20dinner now and have it all ready for us when we get home after the concert!  Yes.  I’m going to turn this day around.  Just you wait and see!  I’m going to make that Jamie Oliver asparagus pasta. I printed the recipe the other day from his website.  First, I think this calls for one more mojito while I dice up my onions, leeks, baby zucchini, and my asparagus.  This shouldn’t take too long.  Fine.  That’s done. Shit.  I’m supposed to use fettuccine.  I only have some penne.  That’ll do though, I’m sure. Okay so I get these vegetables all sweaty and then I add some vegetable stock and let them simmer until they’re soft.  I can do that.  There we go.  Stock is in.  Oops.  It says here to add a handful of basil before I add the stock and let it wilt and then add the stock.  Shit.  Shouldn’t matter: I’ll just add the basil now.  Arrgggg! FUCK!  It says to reserve the asparagus tips and cook those in the last three minutes with the boiling pasta!  No matter, I’ll just pull them out.  Ouch!  Those sweaty vegetables are hot! What time is it anyway?  It’s 8:00pm.  How in hell can it be that late?  Dave Brubeck starts playing at 8!!!!  I’m going to miss the show!  I am shit.  Where the ass is my mojito.  Empty?  Well I’lljustmakeanotherone.

I’m not going to see Dave Brubeck.  I’ll eat by myself.  Just me and Jamie’s delicious, summery pukka pasta.  What does pukka mean anyway?  Don’t you think Jamie’s tongue is a bit too big for his mouth?  That’s mean.  There’s no reason to get mean now drunkity drunk drunk.  Jamie has never failed you in the past so don’t take out your own frustrations and anxieties out on poor, youthful, successful, married-with-three-kids Jamie.  Don’t you do this to him.  

photo[1]What next.  Okay.  Puree the vegetables with a hand-held thing.  Fine.  ARRGGUH!  It’s fucking flying up in my face and burning me!!!  Why is it doing that!!!!! Oh.  Because the pot is too shallow.  I should have put the veg into another container but that would have been one more dish to wash.  Okay, blend this up until it’s creamy.  I’m BLENDING JAMIE BUT IT’S NOT GETTING CREAMY!!!!  WTF JAMIE????  This looks chunky.  This looks like chunky barf.  Hahaha.  That’s funny.  Barf.  

Okay Jamie, why in hell do I have to dirty ANOTHER dish to fry a garlic clove at this point in the game?  Why wouldn’t I have done that when we sweated the other vegetables?  Would it really make that much of a difference?  Plu-leese.  Fine.  I’ll do it but I’m not fucking smiling about this.  Okay, now I add the baby barf to this pan with the garlic and let that cook until my pasta is ready.  I’ll just do up a load of dishes while the penne’s boiling.  I will be careful not to overcook the pasta.  I will make it AL DANTE.  That’s a joke.  Sometimes people say al dante but they meant to say al dente.  You see, Dante is that writer.  Dente means something about teeth, or being hard, or having a bite, like how you want pasta to be:  having a bit of a bite to it.  You don’t want it to be like Dante!  Hahaha.  It would be pretty BORING if it were like Dante!  Hahaha.  And it would be, like over 700 years old! 

I am not leaving the house.  I am getting into my jammies.  I will not go see Dave Brubeck, even though Dave Brubeck helped to define my dad’s musical tastes when he was just a boy.   I will watch some of the DVDs I rented today.  It was supposed to rain all day so I picked up several things to watch, but then it turned out to be sunny goddamnit.   I didn’t write one page of my novel/screenplay.  Shut-up-shut-up-shut-up.  You don’t have a novel dummy.  And you don’t know how to write a screenplay.  Who do you think you are anyway?  Jane Austin?  Steven Spielberg?  Well you’re not.  But I’ve been working on it for six years now!!!! I have an entire 12 pages of this project!! That’s 3000 words!  I wrote 1.37 words every day for the last six years.  I’m pathetic.  God I wish I had cigarettes.  I wonder if the Beast keeps a pack hidden for emergencies.  I could go buy some.  NO.  I AM NOT LEAVING THE HOUSE.  Okay.  Let’s plate this pasta and watch some True Blood. My mom LOVES that show.  And she’s so darn cute so the show must be cute too.  

photoThis pasta tastes like nothing.  I can’t believe it took so much effort to make and it tastes like a can of shit asparagus soup poured over Dante pasta.  I’m shocked Jamie.  And terribly disappointed.  This True Blood though.  Man oh man, there sure is a lot of sex in this show.  I can’t believe my mom loves it so much.  It’s so…graphic.  My God.  Was that a penis?  What the eff is going on here?!?!  MOM?!

Well that had to be the most dissatisfying meal I’ve ever cooked.  I think I’ll have a second plate just to be sure it’s as bad as I think it is.  

Yes.  Yes it is that bad.  Why did I just eat a second plate of shitty pasta?  I feel sick.  You know what’ll make me feel better before I watch a second episode of True Blood?  A bowl of srawberries and ice cream.  Yes.  I deserve it after all.  I worked so hard today on my novel/screenplay.  Not true liar.  I wasted a perfectly beautiful day INSIDE, feeling sorry for myself, and I missed out on a chance to see Dave Brubeck.   My dad will be so disappointed when he reads this.  But my mom will be proud because I finally started watching True Blood!  There!  That’s something good!  Maybe I’m not so pathetic after all.

I don’t think eating a pint of ice cream was a good idea.  I feel tired.  I’m just going to put my head down here on the couch and wait for the Beast to get home and I’ll tell him how terrible my day was and how much I missed him and I don’t think it’s a good idea to have mojito makings in the house during my alone time.  Just look what happens.

Foodie:  NO STARS

Beast:  **1/2  He ate the left-overs two days later straight out of the fridge.  He said it was quite good, and “it would be nice on a picnic.”