Thursday, August 30, 2012

You'd Better Free Your Mind Instead

The final night of the republican convention. I watch because I like to see both sides. I like to know who the key players are and try to listen to their ideas with an open mind. Well after about an hour on C-Span, so much for that. So much for things changing or people actually presenting well formed ideas. And the nerve of them dragging out those poor 'ethnic' people. I only remember hearing really bad jokes and slogans, everyone seemed to have one. We Can Change It, We Built It, We Can Do Better. Hmmm,.. can you do a better slogan? Nothing was blazing. blah blah, get Obama out blah blah. Okay, so maybe they feel he's done a horrible job. Then, now what? We'd all love to see the plan. But all the rest of the time was filled with assorted people selling their own past performances, proving someone in their family worked hard and at the very end saying a gratuitous snippet about Romney. No one believes in him that I could see. Then there was Ryan's big speech. I was all prepared for strength and clear direction. Heard he was the golden child. Didn't hear any new perspective. I was told he stayed out of the muck. He flung a few that night. All I could see when he talked was breaking news of him caught sending pics of his winkie to some intern on his smart phone. Is that cause he has no lips like that Anthony Wiener guy? You can't trust a man with no lips, I've found anyway.
Even though he was batting for the other team, I loved Clint Eastwood's little stand-up. He was affective when he mentioned everyone including Oprah crying at the promise of change. I felt a little stupid for a second but then remembered that I always feel that way.
Romney..already forgot his speech. He seems like a nice man. He could play the US President on a made for TV after school special, set in the 50's.
Other than that, they better get back to that drawing board. I'll stick with Obama. He doesn't make me feel all icky inside when he talks. He took my sister's medical maryjane away, so he's not in great standing with her. My dad says we should give him a chance because no one could have made real change in just 4 years. He said it'll take the new guy four years just to learn the job and then we'll be out 8 years.
I didn't agree with everything but I've been in my job for four years and I haven't done squat. He's accomplished a lot. Who understands ObamaCare? No one. We don't know if its bad or good, no one can explain it. But the things a monster. That is an accomplishment in and of itself. But he ended the war in Iraq, he killed Bin Laden, he ended Don't Ask Don't Tell, he crushed those sneaky peat credit card companies. He's done a lot for vets and so has Michelle. He fought and won for more women's rights in the workplace. Hollah! All in all I believe the country IS better off with him in office.



Tuesday, August 28, 2012

It's a Cruel, Cruel Summer

It was so hot and humid this summer that some days I just couldn't bare to cook. Even heating something on the stove was not going to happen. But ordering take out was doing a cruel number on the two inch section of body called my torso. Time for my famous health sandwiches. Avocado, green apple slices, tomato, sprouts, red onions, salt and pepper on wheat bread with mayo.
Energizing! Now where's the pizza?

Monday, August 27, 2012

Lighter Shade of Pale

This is a lighter and much faster pantry version of my mom's incredible chicken zucchini and rice dish. Another example of her Uh-mazing rustic down-home dishes that were seriously to die for. I've never run across anything like them in any restaurant here in New York or SF, anywhere. She had a talent similar to a Mexican version of Lidia Bastianich on PBS. Everything was done with purpose and care. She put whole pieces of chicken, she'd cut small chunks of fresh corn on the cob, zucchini, cilantro and what I believe was a version of her Mexican rice, garlic, onion. It would all come together and become silky and aromatic. The corn would pick up all the flavors and I just remember sucking those little cob pieces. She would add the zucchini so that it would keep its character, not get soggy and would also absorb all the flavors in the pot.
Here I used frozen corn, fresh zucchini and shredded chicken from my leftover thighs, cilantro and a can of fire roasted tomatoes. I left out the rice, um because I'm an idiot and forgot it to be honest but also I was super hungry.
It was pale in comparison to mom's original dish but it was working for me this night with warm flour tortillas!

Saturday, August 25, 2012

No One Mystifies Me Like You Do

A good Saturday. A sunny day. A walk around the neighborhood with P. All great things. And best of all, a trip back to Castro's in Clinton Hill. Our third trip to this sleeper of a hit Mexican brunch spot. At first thought mediocre, I found myself craving the food and needing to go back. This is a known phenomenon in the food world. A bit of a mystery but common. My first experience of it that I can recall was at our family's competition, a restaurant called El Azteca on State Street in Fort Wayne, Indiana. Still open by the way. My mom and dad's food was the best out there, truly. But here and there, I just got this deep desire to go to Azteca. Something about their food was very different. To me, not as good as El Charro but still incredible in ways I couldn't put into words.
I probably wouldn't have the nerve to go normally but my sister T would come by, pick me up, get me high and make it so darn easy to slip in there and just enjoy a huge combo plate. I can only recall the taste but not the sight. We may have partook in Margaritas as its all a bit fuzzy. I believe they used different cheese and their tortillas were possibly thicker. Whatever it was they did, I liked it a lot. Just like Castro's.
I love Brooklyn and its hands down a cooler place than Fort Wayne but for some reason I long to be back there in the life I possibly would have lived, had I stayed and not moved away 30 years ago. I had a great life but I didn't see it. My family was all there at that time. We had a family business that had I been more in tune with my love of food I could have kept going along with my sisters. What an amazing trip that could have been. I babysat my nieces and nephews, like a regular person. I had a car and friends and jobs and history. There is nothing just like that. The original.
But as I was reaching 21 the clock was ticking like a time bomb to get out of that place and see brilliant colors and people that didn't look like they walked straight out of the Republican Convention. But right along-side those people were also hippies and bikers and artists, beautiful neighborhoods and enough space to breathe. I sit now and wonder why I couldn't be satisfied with what I'd been given, which was a blessed life.
Recently I have a recent theme of living in the past going and am in a constant state of what if. I'm not sure why or if its unhealthy but it is where I'm at. Coincidentally my sister R is currently suffering a bout of this herself.
You can't go back. The past that could have happened but did not, is not a real place to return to, its non existent. They say its not good to have regrets or punish yourself for just trying to make a better life. Hell my mom seemed to want it for me, almost as if a piece of her was getting a chance to try for something more, like maybe she didn't do herself. I thought it was the exact right thing for me at that time.
I did some stuff and if I was in a different mood I could tell that story and it would seem wonderful but right now I am buried deep in the past glory that never was.

I blame everything lately on my horror moans as my sister R cleverly calls them. It must be chemical for all this melancholy to suddenly exist. Is it nonsense? Does it have any useful purpose? Is it just another way for me to find misery?

Thursday, August 23, 2012

Happiness is Warm Bun


Real BBQ'd pulled pork on a toasted smoky bun with seasoned fries and knock-out coleslaw from the Smoke Joint. And on a weeknight no less. Happiness is a by-product of my love of good food.

Wednesday, August 22, 2012

Always Get it Up for the Touch of the Younger Kind


A quick wok fried rice livened up with fresh snow peas, sesame oil and soy. Meh. Healthy, good...but not what I was craving. Did you know snow peas are legumes? Eaten whole in their pod while still unripe. They're high in vitamins, fiber and potassium but most of their calories come from sugar. I always enjoy them.

Thursday, August 16, 2012

Faces Look Ugly When You're Alone

Target is within walking distance from me and for someone living in a city, that's pretty convenient and wonderful. New York City never even had Targets until a few years ago. A girl can get a little lost in there. I love just walking through. Its comforting. And its run well somehow. You don't see that a lot here unless its a high end shop. As a matter of fact that Atlantic Center mall is split into two realities. The Target side is clean, some of the shops don't make as much sense but that should soon change due to the new stadium across the street. The other side is spooky and dark. Feels more nightmarish and dangerous. I saw a man with his very deep hairy dark butt crack fully exposed on that side of the mall. Something I never ever want to see again. Most all of the shops are empty and wrong. And the kiosks in the middle are shiesty rip-offs. Normally I'd want to cross the street bridge to explore Marshalls but the few times there have left me feeling lonely and sad.

Well while within the soothing environment of Target (early morning mind you, late afternoon is like Grand Central Station), I began with a structured list but when I came upon the food aisles I was swept away by the bounty of convenience food. Frozen wonders, jarred pasta sauces of all varieties. But you know I really try to keep away from processed foods. I compromised and allowed myself one indulgence. So I settled for Ortega Taco Shells. Now real taco night is a big deal for me. I take the time to make a great pico, fresh lettuce or cabbage. I play with flavor combinations to create a fiesta sensation in my mouth with every bite. Because tacos are a celebration.

I honestly didn't think just how different a processed taco shell experience would be as opposed to fresh corn tortillas deep fried. I've never actually used them. I love the commercials! But what a let down. P was sweet to break it to me gently. His facial expression while eating them was as if there was a bad smell in the room. They were edible and somewhat enjoyable but you just couldn't get past that salted cardboard element. It's two different worlds. Never again. Mexican shame.

Wednesday, August 15, 2012

Think For Yourself


Spoke to my sister M awhile back and remember she talked about making spaghetti squash for her husband that day and I realized that I've heard about it for years but never actually made it for myself. In the food world, this is akin to maybe never listening to the the Meat Puppets or the more popular of the SST bands in the '80s. Its not as big as never hearing Rubber Soul say but its sort of unsaid that if you cook, you should have made spaghetti squash by now. So I marched my uncool lame ass down to PathMark to get me some. I worked up some great chunky marinara sauce with fresh basil and in this stifling heat, cranked up that oven to roast the squash.

Way better than I expected actually. We all know roasting vegetables brings out the best in them and squash is no exception. Food gets popular because it's good, but some of these vegetable dishes are a harder sell because of availability and they're simply not common. Who buys spaghetti squash on any regular basis? I was completely prepared to not get it, (like I still don't get the Meat Puppets, not that I've spent any recent years trying mind you) but I must say I did love Husker Du & Black Flag!

Sunday, August 12, 2012

We'll Travel For Miles in Our Saturday Smiles


Saturdays have been a little different this year. In the previous years P and I would wake up early and head off to the beach, take long bike rides, venture to unknown destinations on the subway, walk forever and take pictures of new neighborhoods, stuff like that. This year was oppressively hot. Saturday mornings have been spent relaxing on the bed with coffee and home made breakfasts. We always get out but its been short jaunts to Target or Walgreen's or the most a walk around the park. No big whoops in other words. I'm not sure to blame it on the heat or to think its just getting a little older. I'd hate to think we're going to stop doing fun things. Instead maybe its a need to change the entire status quo and stir up our universe a little. We need a true change. Something that is really going to have impact on our everyday lives. Not just a romp around the borough. I like to think that this summer was spent plotting and reconnoitering in our minds eye what that change could look like.

Another omelet this morning, some of the same ingredients; feta, tomato, spinach and turkey kielbasa. This time though, it came out texturally superb.

Tuesday, August 7, 2012

She Knows What She's Doing, She's Super Bad Now


These Mission Wheat Flour Tortillas are so so steamed but kinda special when you toast them up for a quesadilla. Tonight I made a black bean, corn and turkey kielbasa simple 'dilla that ended up tasting almost butter flaky like a pie crust. Quite nice.


Another gold star was adding corn to these leftover mashed potatoes. Quite a little surprise. Not bad for an after thought.

Monday, August 6, 2012

Rollercoaster of Love (Say What?!)


Another hectic Monday at work. I work in retail sales in a busy store. I can't tell you which one now because we had to sign an agreement recently saying what we couldn't do on 'social media' regarding our employer which was basically write about it or write about our coworkers, customers or experiences. blah, blah, blah..lead to termination. I just signed it but really felt it was a violation of my rights outside of that place. I should be able to write about anything I darn well please as far as I'm concerned.
So without naming the big blue and yellow box retailer I'm free to tell you that retail can be hell. I think in many ways I actually love it though even more than I hate it. I love the hustle bustle, the fast pace. I love the constant flow of real Brooklynites. I love the way you can get in your physical work-out and stay active. There is no sitting at a desk and snacking while staring at a computer screen all day in this gig. No, they get their money's worth out of you here. They march your little butt down to the warehouse first thing in the morning to stock product and that includes pushing pallet jacks and loading tons of cardboard into a giant compactor while men (and women) are rushing by on forklifts. It's hectic and keeps you alert, just like the ride in to work with the bus and truck drivers testing my reaction skills on the bike.
Afterwards, I have 10 minutes to race back upstairs, try to look presentable and get back to the showroom to sell kitchen cabinets.
Customers are also in a big hurry, racing in to be the first in line. Sometimes literally racing each other through the shortcuts, no lie. And then actually fighting about who was first when they get there. Insane. New Yorkers are impatient at birth and want and expect more than they ever deserve. They're living in an impossible rat race of deadlines and criss-crossing of itineraries. Its so wonder that anything actually ends successfully here. They stomp their feet and yell and demand and threaten to get their way. The week sort of builds to an escalated stress level with the grand finale being Sunday, the worst and best of all days for me. This day the crowds quadruple, they bring their crying babies and ill-temperaments, their weekend angst. Its a scene right out of Night of the living dead. Mindlessly walking through the maze with that blank stare. What brought them here and not the beach? What makes them come here so dreadful and angry? A nightstand? A microwave cart?
Mondays are like the beginning of the line at the roller coaster. Everyone starts fresh. It's a new day! We all board the ride again. There's the number 186 brown church bus that seems hell-bent on making me roadkill. Here is the left turn that cars cut me off without a care in order to 'make the light'. Here's the first customer of the day who is angry but she's made it. She's the first one and that is an accomplishment to her and now she can feel free to unload her little folder of crumpled receipts and discontent on me. Thus commencing the next week of retail hell. Monday.
Monday night however lent sweet delicious melon, a very satisfying wild rice with broccoli and a sturdy fried pork chop.

Sunday, August 5, 2012

One Thing I Can Tell You Is You Got to Be Free


I can't decide. Am I an idiot, a lonely woman or the luckiest person on the planet?! My husband slash boyfriend writes songs and practices playing guitar every night of the week in his little room. This leaves me with my nights free to do whatever I wish. Sometimes I want him out here even if I'm not doing anything. Sometimes I miss talking to him at length about little stupid stuff. Sometimes I feel guilty because after I get off work I don't want to do anything except eat and loaf around but the fact that he's in there toiling away makes me feel inadequate. So I lollygag in shame. Other times I don't even want him to walk through to use the bathroom because I'm busy doing my thing and even the slightest interruption feels like such an intrusion. I might be writing something or cooking an intense recipe or reading over cooking methods or uploading or taking photos, drawing, making cards, emailing, making a collage, in other words, my stuff. When I'm doing my thing I don't like disruption, even for a kiss. But I don't have a closed door to my 'work space' like he does. I can't close the door. I don't pass-by while he's in the middle of a song or knock on his door just to say hi.

But what I do get is the rest of the apartment while I've squashed him into a tiny 5' x 7' room. It does have a window! It's actually a great set-up and really when he does eventually come out I realize that my thoughts of him are many times better than the actual experience. When he comes out he's hungry, so he eats quickly and then usually needs downtime to relax on the computer and then falls asleep. I'm just a bystander in a way slash waitress. He's a really good person but lets face it, men are men and they tend to be a bit of a handful. They're messy, say inconsiderate things, are a bit rowdy and unruly. I love P with all my heart but he'd be the first to admit he's a little alot, selfish as I've found men to be as a general rule. Maybe its just the crowd I hang with but it might be a natural trait. I've never trusted a doting man actually so maybe they're out there.

So maybe its a very good gig I have here. I can't quite decide. I made a turkey pizza burger tonight with mozzarella and turkey pepperoni slices alongside an Italian salad of cucumber, radish, squash, onions, tomatoes and peperoncini peppers. And I ate it in peace and quiet while watching a Netflix movie of my choice AND it was raining. Life is good! I think.....


Saturday, August 4, 2012

Now We're Gonna Be Face to Face


Brooklyn is gorgeous, outrageous and colorful. Its like a drunken clown. It's a lot of fun but sometimes you just want to tell it to shut up and hope it passes out early.

It photographs well too. In a half an hour walk we were able to see two street fares and a young kid singing I Wanna Be Your Dog as part of a church block party celebration. Seeing just the good side, you fall right in love.

Ellie Krieger, a chef on Food Network talks a lot about eating first with your eyes, which I always did anyway but she has the talent of tricking your eyes to think you're getting a bounty of fat when in fact, its limited. The trick is to put the goodies front and center on the dish where you can see them in abundance.

Like this open-faced omelet I made the other morning. Turkey bacon and cheddar cheese only on top, but tucked inside zucchini, mushrooms and onions - no cheese, no bacon. To look at it you'd think it was super decadent but that's four servings and less than a 1/4 cup of cheese for the whole thing.

I love what I love about Brooklyn and I think to keep that alive, I need to keep that good side front and center in my mind, try to bury the bad clowns.

Friday, August 3, 2012

And I Try, And I Try, And I Try - I Can't Get No....


Lately, I feel a constant yearning for some kind of relief or release that I can't seem to squelch. Its a mixture of feeling excited like the anticipation of a grande event but the next feeling is that the big event is going to be horrifyingly atrocious. That sort of psychotic uneasiness that you might see on the faces of crazy people. And its also similar to being born if I remember correctly. Instead of a beautiful experience, I seem to recall a very uncomfortable, awkward entrance into this world. I didn't want to come out. I wasn't ready. I liked being in the warm safe isolated womb, floating around in the quiet. I was born breach. I know that because my mom always reminded me I almost killed her. The cord was wrapped around my neck too. Everything hurt back then and there was always interruptions in your 'getting' comfortable, like abrupt diaper changes, coldness, dampness, hunger, thirst, sudden awakenings. I was reluctant to be born then and I'm not quite sure I was wrong just yet. It just goes on and on this discontent. When I'm not biting my nails, and dreaming up just what that an atrocious event might look like, most nights I settle on just trying to be comfortable in my body and hoping the mind will follow suit. I drink tons of herbal tea, meditate, pray, pet my cats. And by the way none of it is working.

I try getting my food to console me although I know that doesn't work either. Chicken Noodle Soup. Something homemade, warm and comforting. Complete with real chicken stock, carrots, celery, bay leaves, poached chicken and wide noodles. It did help for a moment. Rich broth always calms, aides and bolsters the system if only a temporary fix.


Thursday, August 2, 2012

Tryin' To Get That Feeling Again


A midwestern salad tonight. Not necessarily low in calories and too much Italian dressing, lots of crunchy and pickley things. That somehow reminds me of Indiana. I miss the Midwest lately. I miss my hometown. I miss the crickets and the lightning bugs. I miss the drive-up Dairy Queens and the drive-in movie theaters. I miss listening to the radio on the way to the lake. I miss the head shops where you could pick up a one-hitter and also a sweet blouse and matching earrings. I miss the easiness of living. But the time that I'm missing no longer exists. The mom and pop root beer stand is gone. The friends out blowin' one in the park are married with grown kids. The restaurants are all shut down that I loved. There would be no one there to go with to them if they were. I miss all of it today.

I can't go back. I can't bring the past into the present. My only way back today is via a salad. But just because its ingredients are not super chic, it still has great familiar flavor combos. Cool and refreshing! Hard salami, carrots, tomatoes, zucchini, cucumber, red onions on iceberg lettuce and lots of Saltine Crackers.

Wednesday, August 1, 2012

Stand! In the End You'll Still Be You.


Nothing to report in the food world. Made a cute BLT on thin bread. Actually had success on some small fried potatoes. But in the food world, that is just what it is, small potatoes. Been in the cyber world recently, had to develop a Facebook account for P's music. Ended up in a blast from the past blackout. Ended up looking up every living soul I knew and found quite a few, including my 80 year old uncle. Cousins and their families, old friends, teachers, people at work, people from old work places, people from my home town, people's kids. Holy crap it never ends! Its a black hole. You can waste your whole life. And the bad part is that now I feel I need to keep going back to that place. Like it was magical or something. A place where I could look but I didn't have to speak, my ideal. I have the fever now. I desire to interact in this odd way. I want to 'poke' people and say hey. I want to upload a ton of pics. I want to see my timeline and post my favorite movies and music. What the hell is wrong with me?!

But why? Why do I feel the draw to do these ridiculous things? I talk to my close friends via phone and email, in-person. Most of them are not on Facebook. And that is a very tiny 'group' mind you. I don't have 187 friends. I don't want 187 people to see what I'm up to. I take great steps to hide my comings and goings even though 99.9 percent of the population could care less. So what is it that compels me to step into this fabricated banquet hall of mingling. Am I seeking God? Am I looking for acknowledgement? Acceptance? Human contact? Probably all of the above but that's not it.

Do I fear dying like a tree in the empty forest? Yes! I'm afraid of dying and I'm seeking some proof that I do exist or have existed. If I make a Facebook profile than surely I have lived. Its all right there in lit up black and white. I was born, I moved, I have friends, I have photographic proof that good times were had. Maybe they shouldn't be called friends, but instead witnesses. I would gladly take 187 witnesses at my funeral, all with their little blue thumbs up.

And My Heart Beats So That I Can Hardly Speak


Riblets. Pork riblets. I read the package wipe my glasses in the case that I'm wrong. But no, this is real. Suddenly a whole world opened up for me. I'm in a sort of soft meat lover's dream. Pork ribs but cut against the bone. Genius! I somehow discovered this portal to heaven inside the meat department at PathMark. Pork riblets. So cute and promising! I had no idea they existed.

And they love me back! Served them with a rosemary and garlic sauce. This time I couldn't resist, had to make smashed potatoes with sour cream. So dreamy good.

Life ain't so bad after all.

Left a Good Job in the City


Went to see a good friend in the city. Being the broke-lyn resident that I am, we chose a diner near her. Moonstruck Diner on 2nd. The cool air-conditioned loneliness of the empty booths were exactly what I was looking for. Yeah, in a way it was shameful. You're in Manhattan, there are a million small fun eateries with great inexpensive food. But sometimes you just wanna be. You know? We could order something and stay for hours talking. And we did.

The great thing about good friends and good people in general is that when you see them no matter how long its been since the last time, you pick right up as if you've been communicating in some form all the while.

We used to work together and some of the best times were spent at a diner in midtown where we'd also spend loads of time just chatting and laughing, brooding about the wrongs of the world, cracking on knucklehead coworkers and eating lots of french fries.

Speaking of...this place gave out quadruple portions. God bless them!

On the way home I spaced out on the subway and went past my stop, actually got on the wrong transfer train and ended up at this desolate station. Seemed like I had to go down like 6 flights underground to get to the C train platform where NO one lurked. Just like in the scary movies! Eeeeeks!