Hey It's Okay, You Just Had a Bad Day

Prettied Up Boxed Mac and Cheese

Sometimes life is about making a vat of food to prepare for the long loneliness.  There are weeks when you know you will be unable to perform your normal daily duties due to low energy vibes coming on.  It happens to us all.  Predictable work weeks, one, after another, can be extremely tiresome and mundane, and also drain us of hope there will be respite.  Other times, we're just busy.  Whatever the reason, making a big pot that you can pack for lunches for a week and actually be happy to eat is a necessary part of life. 

 

We make light of comfort food but it's a serious and much needed type of eats. The psychological element is real.  Something as a child that soothes you or makes you feel safe is medicinal.  Perhaps your mother made you, when you were sick.  Or it could be a big pot your family ate together.  Maybe you made it for yourself because you were alone.  No matter the memory, if it's attached and that meal gives you relief from a certain type of misery, consider this tasty therapy.

I added ground turkey, broccoli, mushrooms, onion, bell peppers and tomatoes to this boxed Mac and Cheese as well as some yogurt for extra creaminess.  

Cobblie Hill gardens

Non, je ne regrette rien

Taking advantage of a new food truck on the corner that we shunned for awhile because they refused to post any prices except for the chicken wings.  The menu was an odd mix of French.  We wanted to try it but sometimes you have to trust your instincts.  I go by the feel of the exterior and so far had never picked up an inviting vibe.  On the other hand, traditionally I'm horrible at trying new joints, although I love contemplating them.  So, we did it.   

We braved the order window and the impossibly tall blonde French woman that took our order, agreeing that if it was too much money we would kindly bow out and go for our 2nd choice instead of just staying, like we normally do.  No more will I ever sit in a restaurant that does not feel right.  But how nice it would be to eat in Fowler Square under a shady tree, be a part of our community.  P does it all the time, but I tend to seek out places that no one goes.  I deliberately find isolated areas where I can just be by the water, alone.  

We settled on baked mac and cheese, a fried chicken sandwich and pork belly with fried egg.  The latter the most interesting and rich.  The fried chicken was so tender on the inside.  It tasted better than it looked and the coleslaw was on point.  Still, somehow, after a few bites, the party ended.  First of all let me say that we're damn lucky to be eating out at all and I'm grateful for any joy these days, no matter how small.  But how does this happen that excitement quickly turns south?  Maybe we needed a fresh element but within a few moments I realized, I was feeling ill and P was across from me confessing that he HATED the pork belly. 

Here's the funny thing about couples.  We sat in front of the truck and both made a big fuss about how great it tasted, clearly for their benefit because you want the local businesses to thrive and feel good about their offerings.  How pleasant it should have felt to dine al fresco when actually, I was overheating and started to get a headache.   The mac and cheese was so rich with butter that even I could not force myself to eat it all.  I ordered the chicken and P got the pork, so we traded half pieces after I saw him eyeing my sandwich.  

To be fair, I loved the Pork Belly and the Chicken too.  It was just overall not a pleasant experience but in fairness maybe it was just too soon to be outside pretending like the world was normal or the same.  

Still, no regrets and I'm very happy that at least we tried it.

You Can't Hurry Thugs, No You Just Have to Wait

I love going to PathMark because a good portion of their customers are nice old ladies that I enjoy talking to.  I go on my day off, fairly relaxed, I have some good conversations, and then wheel my booty home and trek it up the two flights of stairs just in time to watch Dr Oz talk to some woman about her vagina. Done. But this week I had another migraine that I couldn't shake. I thought maybe fresh air would help.  The light of day was rough but then the fluorescent lighting in the store was brutal.  I was wobbling down the aisles just trying to get anything in the cart so I could race home before I threw up.

I was hoping to browse the fresh produce and meat market for good deals.  I only had one clear dish that I knew I wanted to make but the rest was supposed to be the fun part of shopping. 

I managed to fill the cart with God knows what but I just needed to get out of there.  I get in a line maybe 6 carts deep.  Every customer took a long time but then the girl in front of me, she was the nail in my coffin.  That girl had problems with just about every single item price in her cart.  And the poor cashier had the patience of a saint but it musta took like a half an hour to complete each transaction.  And you know the girl had to split her order up into two purchases.

Like I said, I love PathMark in many ways but anyone would have to admit, it can be a bit ghetto in there depending on when you shop.  Thursday I walk in and some mother was screaming at her small child in ways that made me want to call child services.  Some other woman was standing in every one's way right at the entrance spewing such lewd and vial hatred into her cell phone that the livery drivers were blushing. 

The girl in front of me didn't care one bit that the line was growing and growing behind her.  She had to get her Rib Shaped Pork Patties two for five, like she saw 'em in the flier.  Did she have the flier?  Of course not.  Was there one handy?  No.  Our course even  if she did have the correct variety to get the deal, she needed a PathMark card.  No she didn't have one.  Could she ask me nicely or would she just say 'let me have your PathMark card' and reach for it without looking at me? 

Did I hand it right over to her?  Yes, but let me explain.  I am a small Mexican woman in Brooklyn with no power or desire for power.  I just want to gather my nuts and go home.  I don't want hassle or any stink on me when I get home. I am a monkey of peace.  Plus I'm very nervous by nature.

But that's one pet peeve of mine.  When the cashiers hand you change and can't bother to look at you so of course they aim a foot short of reaching comfortably so you have to stretch to get it.  Petty?  I don't know.  It happens to me 90% of the time I buy something in this town.  It gets to me, I have to be honest.  I want someone to tell me, 'have a nice day'.  I want a simple smile and a thanks. Basically, I just want something at the end of my transaction that does not feel like a big F. U.

By the time I got home and schlepped everything upstairs I wasn't inspired to create much.  I just quick fried some super thin pork chops and then rolled them in BBQ sauce at the end, steamed up some broccoli and made a quick white mac and cheese.  It was the simple smile and thanks I needed.  P loved the broccoli, steamed just enough with a little squirt of lime and a dash of Caesar salad dressing.