BOILERPLATE: Have you heard? I’m a finalist in the 2009 Bloggies. Best-Kept Secret Blog! No shitting. I’ve added a new page to the site specifically to pander for votes.
Who doesn't like a simple roast chicken, especially when you throw carrots, blue potatoes, onions and day-old bread cubes underneath so they roast basted in delicious chicken-y juices? Nobody. And nobody does it better than my husband, who is the chicken master. Chickens panic at the very mention of his terrifying name.* Granted, this has nothing to do with chicken; I was just taunting you with my ...
THE PRESSURE ON MY EYEBALLS IS INDESCRIBABLE.
See? The stress is getting to me, and now I can only talk in quotes from cartoons. Because not only do I have to be funnier and more personable that David Fucking Lebovitz*, but I also have to be a hidden goddamned gem**. But aye, here's the rub: I'm less "diamond in the rough" and more "foil-wrapped brick that someone hurled through your back window, and then maybe they threw a second one because the first one didn't completely shatter the glass." This is the double-edged blade upon which I walk.
This stress level can ...
Martin Luther King, Jr. Day: A chance to celebrate the amazing accomplishments of the Civil Rights movement, a chance to cook during the day and take photos in natural light. Note that I am NOT EQUATING THOSE THINGS AT ALL. It's just a happy coincidence. Like the light, fluffy snow that just started coming down, obscuring the city's grit; the Barack Obama memorial only-legal-tender-in-Liberia coins that arrived today, just in time for the inauguration*; and the 10 pounds I just lost using only the power of positive thinking. The alignment of these stars could only mean one thing: individual chicken ...
Fewer things make me happier than garlic, lots and lots of garlic. Gianduja. Argyle socks. Making snap judgments. The word "ilk." And, of course, more garlic. I noticed that people started coming within 10 feet of me today. Since I don't really like people* and try to maintain a 12-foot radius, another garlicky dinner was a no-brainer.
*Not you.
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Sometimes Smackdowns don't work out as well as I'd like and that's okay, I love them all just the same. Well, except for this one. Oh, and this one; this one was just the nastiest one of the year and I repudiate it completely. But all the other ones, I love just the same. Especially when they leave me with leftover custard sauce. Because what is leftover custard sauce, really, other than inchoate ice cream waiting to be made into ice cream?
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And that includes eating Sticky Toffee Pudding for dinner. Which I just did, and I could not possibly be less sorry. In fact, I'm feeling so magnanimous after eating it that I'm willing to overlook the ridiculous length of this book's title AND the fact that (as listed on Amazon) it has TWO COLONS: Desserts by the Yard: From Brooklyn to Beverly Hills: Recipes from the Sweetest Life Ever, by Sherry Yard (GET IT?), official pastry chef of Wolfgang Puck's Spago empire.
I Wonder: Are all the colons necessary?: A grammatical conundrum: That I can top: Suck on that.
Wow, ...
Thank god for Cheap Ass Monday, which I predict will soon become "Cheap Ass Every Damn Day" because the hourly rates of New York City psychiatrists are INSANE. Nationally known expert, schmexpert; I'll need another drug just to counteract the shock of the bills. I've totally gone down the wrong path in life: I should have become a psychiatrist. Based on the hourly rate of the guy I'm seeing for a second opinion this Friday, I could see four patients a week and still be making hundreds more than I do in my current job. It's too bad you have ...
Yes, I know I said I was going to make this chicken on Friday night. But Friday nights I'm usually too beat to deal with all the cooking and photographing and writing Claudia's comment in the post postponing this shamed me into giving the chicken another day to salt, EVEN THOUGH the cookbook itself said "one to three days", not "one day is completely unacceptable and offensive why would you even think such a thing."
Thus, tonight found me eating The Zuni Cafe Cookbook's roast chicken with some celery root-potato puree courtesy of Bittman (there's a tenth anniversary edition, it's red ...
I know, the post title isn't very exciting or funny or clever. Don't blame me, blame the three and a half hour meeting I had this afternoon. Don't we go to work at non-profits so we don't have to sit through three and a half hour meetings? You pay me less, I wear comfy shoes to work and don't deal with meetings; that is the deal, no? Also this particular meeting was three and a half hours, did I mention that?
It is, therefore, not surprising that when I got home I wanted something quick, warm ...
Yeah, I know, some people pronounce it "OH-ffal." I don't. It's punnier that way.
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