TNS: Were the instructions written by a Chinese hairless crested?

If you don’t know what a Chinese hairless crested is, it’s this.  Or as I like to call it, “the dog that should not be.”

You may wonder why they are in the title. I will to esplain: these are Lidia Bastianich recipes, and she’s relatively hairless. And Chinese hairless crested are dogs, so they’d be pretty shitty at writing coherent recipes, and so is Lidia Bastianich. Combine all this, and we’re lucky dinner got to the table at all, although thank god it did, because it was good.: Swiss chard cakes crusted with Asiago and tiny, adorable little braciole filled with parsley butter, from Lidia’s Italy, a book I highly recommend for people who like cookbooks with vivid descriptions of other parts of the world, delicious sounding dishes, and recipes and explanations that sound like they were run through computerized Italian-to-Chinese and Chinese-to-English translators.

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Liveblogging Top Chef: Finale, Part 2

Final 3.  Bug-eyed awesome lady.  Fairly useless guy from Colorado.  Douchebag from Finland.  Not that I am in any way biased.  I will have ongoing backup of the post, so if Bluehost craps out again just wait ’til the end and the whole post should be up in short order, and you can read it while you watch the 11:00 re-run (though we’ve made it 2 weeks in a row, so fingers crossed).

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Top Chef: Call the Trifecta and Win!

I’ll be here at 10 for all the low blows and last-minute speeding busses under which one could be thrown, but for right now, let’s predict.  Who takes it, and in what order are the others booted?

All those who correctly call the trifecta have a shot at winning Charlie Palmer’s Practical Guide to the New American Kitchen (no connection to the show, I just love the book).

I call Carla as dark horse victor, defeating Stefan. Hosea goes first.

Now you.

TNS: My husband is a cheap son of a bitch.

ETA: Please, NO COMMISERATING.  It usually just makes me feel worse because no two people with mental illness are ever in the same place, and I need to be working through my own shit instead of comparing myself to others.  However, rooting for me is totally acceptable and is encouraged.

They tell me that eventually this drug is going to work like a charm, and in the meantime it’s just going be a bit “activating.”  Where activating = sitting curled up on the corner of the couch, sobbing, convinced my life is a crumbling wreck of a life, not even able to laugh at Alec Baldwin on 30 Rock who is FUCKING HILARIOUS.

So here’s the deal for tonight: The captions will tell you what you are actually look at.  The text and title will be drawn from the rich, rich trove of google searches.  Tomorrow, when, hopefully I will be sane at some point, I may go back in.  Hopefully. Lame? Yes. But I’m lame right now.  I promise make-up cake this weekend, and we all know make-up cake is the best kind of cake.

So, above: herb-roasted lamb loin chops with goat cheese and zinfandel sauce from Susan Spicer’s Crescent City Cooking, an excellent book that has (1) never led me astray and (2) has a lot of recipes involving cheese. So +2 on that count.

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