Veggie Tales

I am, without a doubt, a meat eater. A full fledged, card carrying carnivore.  I once approached a guy in a bar and told him to take me to the meat (which I learned, ladies, is not an altogether horrid pick up line depending on your intentions).  I was not, however, trying to pick anyone up and in my defense, I was at a bbq festival and he appeared to be wearing some sort of V.I.P. all access pass. I thought I had just met my new best friend! Turns out he wasn't a V.I.P and had no more access to the meat than did I (or any other paying customer) but you can't blame a gal for trying!

I tried vegetarianism for a full 9 months when I was younger before falling shamelessly off the chuck wagon and crawling wantonly towards a chuck steak.  It became quite clear - I need meat in my life.  That said, I do love me some veggies and there are many times I enjoy eating vegetarian (even vegan).  It just will never be a way of life for me.  Nor will it be for Doug.  He may be an even more devout meat eater than I which is why I relish the nights he's away, like tonight, to make a hearty vegetarian meal for one.

A River Runs Through It

I have finally discovered the poached egg.  Don't ask me how I'd gone 35 years without eating one - I can barely fathom it myself, but up until recently nothing was more disgusting (and terrifying) than eating runny yolk.  Eggs were to be scrambled (dry), deviled (my now second favorite way to eat them), made into an omelet (the more cheese the better) or as an addition to a recipe but never ever ever were they to be wet and runny.  The mere thought gave me chills.

But, how can one profess to be a foodie (foodista?) and food blogger whilst being scared of a little egg? Preposterous! I admit, over the past year or so, I've been tempted.  I mean, the Crab Cake Eggs Benedict my girlfriend ordered for brunch in DC last summer almost swayed me and if we hadn't drank so much fun the night before, I may have caved. It was coming, it was...inevitable; and my world was changed forever on Sunday July 10, 2011 at roughly 11am at Shea's Cafe in Absecon, NJ.  Their Eggs Benedict shamelessly took my poached egg virginity with reckless abandon (or maybe that was just the way I devoured my brunch) and left me wanting more! Since then, I can't get enough of that drippy, velvety, buttery yolk. I want everything I eat to be slathered in nature's gravy. Poached eggs on buttered toast has become my new weekend go-to breakfast - and for those of you who've never poached an egg before; don't believe the hype it is NOT difficult! I've been poaching eggs like a fiend over the past month and putting them on everything from toast to salads to creamed spinach; which has to be, hands down, the most comforting dish there is! Maybe it's because it's so new to me but this dish is more comforting than mashed potatoes, more comforting than macaroni and cheese, more comforting than dessert - ok maybe not, I've got to draw the line somewhere! But you get my point - this is divine!

Something From Nothing

To say that my not-so-new job has been draining me is a bit of an understatement, but it's not just the new job that has had me so run down lately.  The little summer cold I came down with in early May has taken up residence, simply refusing to leave, landing me at the doctor's office more times than I care to admit in the last three months and culminating in a chronic sinus infection and nasty bronchitis that has me unable to walk more than a few feet without becoming short of breath (damn asthma!).  Add to it Zumba classes, nights and weekends spent visiting friends, late evenings with the boy, a mild stomach flu that plagued me for most of June and it's amazing I haven't collapsed by now.  Being this sick for this long, I welcomed the doctor telling me to stay out of work for the week and do nothing.  But how does one so used to doing everything do nothing?  Recumbent in bed, with the laptop, updating her oh-so-neglected blog - that's how!

So, for those of you who've missed me - I'm sorry, I will try not to stay away so long again.  For those of you who may not have known I existed before this post - welcome, you've missed a bit!  Go back, read through some recipes and try your hand at some yummy dishes!  And, for those of you who didn't even notice I was gone - I'll just assume it was because you were too busy cooking your way through my past posts to realize I hadn't posted anything new!  ;)

Put a Stick In It!

Is it me or does food on a stick just taste better?  I really think that's why corn dogs have such appeal.  Put that sucker on a bun and it's a whole different animal - and not nearly as tasty a one! I mean, think about it.  Little chunks of meat and veggies that could be stew - add a skewer et voila! Shish kebab - how fun! Corn, ice cream, those deep fried twirly cut potatoes at local fairs, fondue (ok that might be a bit of a stretch but you know I'm right); all better on a stick. And think about what a stick and the freezer did for plain old pudding!  Even comedian Jeff Dunham has a schtick on a stick.  Yep, food on a stick is funnier, funner (aren't made up words great?) and just plain yummier!  And what could make food on a stick even better?  Grilling it!  And dipping it! Put that all together and I get so excited I can hardly eat - or is it hardly wait to eat?!


I'm the kind of person who will grill year round.  And I have. But there's something about grilling on a late spring (or early summer) evening that just makes everything right in the world.  Firing up the grill as the sun slowly heads for the horizon, eating outside, tiki torches ablaze; realizing just as you finish your last bite of dinner that it's cooled off a bit and is a great night for toasting marshmallows and making s'mores.  It's so much better than grilling surrounded by snow - although that has surreal attributes that make it almost as much fun.  Almost.  

Burgers, Burns and Bites

Memorial Day Weekend 2011 - where is this year going? Mother Nature seems to be taking her cues from National holidays this year ushering in the sweltering summer heat just in time for the "unofficial start of summer".  Personally, I'd be thrilled with 4 more weeks of spring, but I decided to play along with summer's early arrival and head down the shore yesterday to celebrate one of my oldest and dearest friend's birthdays.

At 10:30 a.m. Jimmy and I donned our bathing suits for the first time this season, packed up the car with beach chairs, towels and sunscreen and hit the road.  What should have been less than a 2 hour drive delivered us shore front at roughly 2pm.  Anxious to hit the beach, we quickly found parking and were on the beach in no time.  After an inaugural dip (only ankle deep) in the icy Atlantic, I lathered up with sunscreen and settled in.  Even though it was in the high 80's, there was a cool breeze coming off the ocean and before long I was snoozing on the warm sand. I awoke a couple hours later hungry from the heat and ready to hit the shops and restaurants.  Upon first examination, I didn't appear to be burned but a closer look revealed that my right arm, and only the outer side of my right arm was lobster red. Ugh!  Note to self: apply sunscreen before sun exposure - and yes, hanging your arm out the passenger window on a 31/2 hr drive is sun exposure! As I brushed the sand from my body I noticed I was getting kind of itchy and discovered quite a few welts on my legs and one HUGE one on my forehead.  I initially dismissed them as mosquito bites but when the swelling on my forehead became such that it appeared as if I got conked with a baseball bat and the itching turned to a dull stinging sensation I knew these were no normal mosquitoes (I later found out that I'd been bitten by horseflies - ew!).  Not insect bites nor sunburn were quelling my appetite though so Jimmy and I headed for a quick bite to eat at a local greasy spoon before heading farther south to Atlantic City to continue the birthday festivities.  We returned home around midnight (after doubling my gambling budget on the slot machines - woo hoo!), and after a quick shower and a liberal application of aloe I was more than happy to fall into bed for the night.  I awoke this morning in a bit of a sunburn haze, happy to have the day off from work  and happier yet to be inside in the air conditioning.


Did you know that this weekend is not only Memorial Day, but also another National "holiday"?  It's National Burger Weekend!  As if we didn't already have enough of a reason to fire up the grill and celebrate!  Usually the thought of an unctuous burger dripping with melty cheese and thick slices of bacon is my food porn, but after the damage I did at the beach yesterday (What? Can you blame me? I'm sorry, but strolling down the Boardwalk munching on carrot sticks is not nearly as refreshing as a twisty cone or freshly squeezed lemonade!) a greasy burger is the last thing I want.  But, I'd been kicking around an idea for a lightened up Greek inspired burger with a refreshing Tzaziki sauce for a while now and what better excuse to give it a shot than National Burger Weekend?!

I love a rainy night...

             Or is it rainy days and Mondays always get me down? Usually it's the former,  but after a week of this rain and no end in sight, I'm leaning towards the latter.  And after yet another dreary day in the city, what's better than a bowl of soup?


I worked my first full week at the new job last week and it rained every single day. And not just little showers, full on storms - pelting rain, driving wind and a chill in the air more reminiscent of October than May.  In the afternoons, when it wasn't chilly, the air hung stale and heavy with humidity; making each breath on my walk to the subway suffocating. 


I have a love hate relationship with the city.   I've learned that we are, in the most literal sense, fair weather friends. Unless it's sunny and hovering in the low 70's, I haven't much use for Manhattan and she, likewise, isn't altogether kind to me.  Rain and humidity make me wonder why I bother to do my hair each morning.  When summer comes the stifling heat in the subway will render any make up I've applied completely useless.  And winter - I'm already dreading the bone chilling winter and we've barely begun spring. But, Manhattan isn't without her charms.  The draw of Broadway, the street corner cafes, the wine bars and beer gardens, the quaint streets of the west village, the insomniatic nightlife - all attributes I love to love.  And, once the weather isn't so gloomy, I plan on loving them fully!  In the meantime, though, I think I'll curl up with a bowl of soup, dry and comfy on the couch, and listen to the rain.

Happy Pounds and a Blog Award

I've been a little absent from blogging over the last month but I promise it's been for very good reasons.  Last we knew, I was unemployed, a little lonely and getting very frustrated with my job search. While that's as good a place as any to pick up my story, I think I need to go back even farther.  To summer 2008. It was a big one.

 

You know how people always tell you that once you get your own life in order and stop looking for things, those things will inevitably find you.  Well, it's true; as evidenced by my experiences in late spring/summer of 2008.  I was happily working for a company I liked and had made some great friends there.  I had gone back to school at night and my work schedule allowed me to work full time, take night classes and still have a social life.  I had a great new apartment and I had just met a great new guy (one who I've come to share my life with today).  With all this happiness, stability and comfort in my life, it seemed like the stress pounds that had decided they wanted to be a part of my journey during the previous years were just melting off and by summer of 2008 I was at my goal weight and getting comments such as "holy skinny!" from good friends who hadn't seen me in a while.  Life was good and it only got better for the next 9 months.  Nights out for drinks, dinners and desserts with the new boy, who truly didn't mind a curvier version of me, had started to put on a few "happy pounds" here and there and I found myself back at "within 5 pounds of goal weight" and telling myself "eh, it's only 5 pounds and they're there for the best of reasons!". Then in early 2009, due to company cut backs, I lost my job and became veiled with a slight depression.  It was quickly replaced, however, with the realization that I now had even more time to spend with the boy - and, of course, most of that time was spent consuming yummy deliciousness of the liquid and solid variety.  The ups and downs continued for the next year and a half to 2 years, battling fruitless job searches, one truly horrific job that lasted only a short time, one truly horrific break up that lasted only a short time, one truly fantastic job that lasted only a short time and another unemployment that lasted much longer than it should have - which brings me to where I left off with my last posts.  

On a Friday in late April, I received a call from a recruiter in NYC wanting an interview to discuss my experience and what I was looking for.  We scheduled an interview for the following Monday.  I'd worked with this recruiting company before without much success so I was expecting the interview to go as such: "It was a pleasure meeting you. You have an impressive resume. I'll put my feelers out and we'll be in touch." then go weeks without hearing so much as a peep.  Needless to say, I was pleasantly surprised when I left my recruiter's office with an interview with his client scheduled for 3pm that same afternoon! By 4pm I had the feeling that I aced my first interview and my suspicions were confirmed before I had even exited the subway with a voicemail from my recruiter saying they loved me and wanted to schedule a second interview a.s.a.p.  We had it scheduled for Wednesday morning as I boarded the train home.  Doug and I celebrated my successful interview with dinner out and a bottle of wine that night.  Wednesday morning's interview came and went in a flash and I had that same feeling of success as I walked to the train station. I boarded an early afternoon train home and by 3pm I had an offer letter in hand.  I happily accepted and Doug and I celebrated with an impressive fondue dinner (and many drinks) at the Melting Pot.  I started my new job on Monday, May 2nd.  

Three days later Doug and I left for a week long vacation to Northern California.  It was a whirlwind trip  from San Francisco and Oakland to Reno, NV to Lake Tahoe to Napa Valley and back again.  The week was filled with many drinks, much wine and some of the best food I've ever eaten - and lots of it! And, as I'm sure you've gathered, a few more "happy pounds".  But, now I'm back to the grind.  Finding my days are much longer than ever before and the temptation to just grab something on the go greater than ever.  It's time to buckle down and do what I do best - cook healthy foods that are just as tasty as they are balanced and good for us - with the goal of losing a few pounds but keeping the happy!  

Beef Stroganoff and Daddy Issues

Living an hour away from my family and friends can sometimes be harrowing.  Doug works long and erratic hours. I don't work at all.  So, I spend a lot of time alone, or with the dogs.  If I lived back in NY, I'd be surrounded by a bevy of family and friends.  Instead, simple girlfriend get-togethers require much more planning than ever before - partly due to evolving lives and growing families, still I can't help but believe the added distance is a factor.  Family dinners are reduced to mostly holidays and special occasions. For the most part, I'm not complaining.  Even with it's occasional pitfalls and difficulties, I love my life.  I have a wonderful supportive man who allows me just enough wallowing before lighting a motivational fire under my tush, the time we spend together is filled with love and laughter and when I do get to see my family and friends, it's usually somewhat of a grand event.  

There is just one thing that's been eating at me.  It's been eating at my father too, but not in the way he'd prefer.  It's something he mentions with every new blog post and the physical distance between us is, without a doubt, the culprit. A staunch supporter of my blog, as is the rest of my family, dad loves reading my prose but simply reading the recipes just isn't cutting it.  Culinarily challenged, he is a bit gun shy about attempting my recipes but exhibits no hesitation in reminding me (with great regularity) that "dear old dad" has yet to sample my dishes.  

However, last December, Doug and I had the pleasure of hosting my parents for a simple dinner.  It was a lovely evening and this dish was the star - at least for us carnivores (mom, being pescevegetarian, feasted on a huge salad and some noodles (next time they come for dinner, though, I'm making this)).  Dad raved about dinner then, and can now say that he's tasted (at least one of) my recipes.  So, dad, this one's for you!  

Toaster Oven Chicken Tenders & Cheesy Mashed Potatoes

Sometimes you just need comfort food.  Today was one of those days.  Actually, many days lately have been one of those days. I've been really needing to cloak myself in a big, enveloping comfort food hug.

You see, I lost my job last year.  A job I loved, working for a company I believed in, where I was successful and well respected. You know, a rarity!  I'd only been with the company for a few short months but had already been promoted, was an integral member of the CEO's management team and had forged some really great friendships.  I was, dare I say it, happy.  Wait...what?  She's happy? Cue disaster. Get misery and depression on the phone, we need them on stand-by. And so, on that balmy Monday afternoon in mid-July, when disaster apparently had nothing better to do, it all came tumbling down.  

I suppose, if you're the kind of person who believes in signs, you may have seen this coming.  What began as a sunny morning commute foretold what was to come when no sooner did I set foot out of the car in the office parking lot than the sky took on an ominous shade of gray.  Every trace of blue vanished and clouds rolled in as I walked into the building, down the hall and towards my office. Plunging the key into the lock on my office door, I turned the handle in synchronicity with the first thunderclap.  The skies opened up and rain pelted my office window, hard.  I gazed outside as my computer booted up, too distracted by the cacophony of the storm to notice the prescient text message that had arrived from my closest work friend.  "Whatever happens today, I love you Jour and am glad you are a part of my life.". Concerned, I frantically dialed Jessica's number. Voicemail, damn.  

Moments later she came sweeping into my office with breaking news, a look of despair on her face.  The CEO's daughter, she had information about events that had transpired over the weekend, and behind closed doors, with teary eyes, we talked about the impending death of our beloved corporation.  Long story short, we were forced into a chapter 7 bankruptcy by lenders and private equities firms who saw us as a write off.  The livelihood of close to 100 dedicated employees reduced to little more than black numbers on a white page.  The shades of gray lie in the bewildered glances exchanged.  In the line of former employees sitting on the curb, boxes holding months and years of their professionals lives next to them, wondering how to get home to loved ones who were hours, if not many states away, when our company cars were no longer company property.  In the farewell hugs and the abundance tears.  In the taxed looks on the faces of people who were, simply, a tax write off.

That evening was one of the hardest nights of my life.  I couldn't take phone calls from concerned friends and family because I couldn't stop crying long enough to talk.  I couldn't eat, couldn't sleep.   Hell, I could barely catch my breath. That was 9 months and countless emailed resumes ago.  In this time, I've gotten, if I'm being generous, maybe 10 responses.  Most emails get ignored leading me to believe that the digital age has done little more than give us yet another medium with which to be rude.  Phone calls go unanswered, messages unreturned and the couple of recruiters I've actually spoken with have been kind enough to make the decision for me that either a) the commute was too far or b) the pay was too low.  Head, wall,  I believe you 2 have met.  Bang, bang bang.

I had my first interview since being laid off last week.  If you ask me, if went really well; I'm perfectly qualified, they didn't blink at my salary requirements, the owner and I are both dog lovers (his Jack Russell even spends time in the office). Yet, here it is, a week later and...nothing.  Obviously, there are good days and bad and I know things will eventually change, but I'm just not feeling the love on the job front.  So, you know that feeling of love that comes from having a belly full of homemade comfort food?  The kind that takes you in, wraps you up and makes you feel like a happy, protected 5 year old?  That is what I needed (albeit with slightly fewer calories)! 

Bean Curd and Bucket Lists

Recently, a fellow blogger got me thinking about bucket lists. We all have one, whether scrawled on the back of an envelope, meticulously enumerated on a "to-do" list or not so indelibly etched with our mental pencils. Mine was the to-do list variety; bulleted points, each carefully printed with an extra fine tip Sharpie (my "this is important" pen).  Sadly, my actual list was lost during one of umpteen moves in as many years.  I don't think it's lost for good, but more likely is packed away with half of my life in a storage unit in NY. I remember never keeping the list readily accessible, preferring instead to hide it away somewhere where I'd only come across it once or twice a year. It was fun to see not only what I'd accomplished and how far I'd come, but as the list got older, the kinds of things I'd aspired to all those years ago. It was always good for a teensy feeling of accomplishment as well as a chuckle or 2 at my younger self. The last time I stumbled upon the list, I was able to cross off a couple of items, one due to accomplishment (get a tattoo - I now have 2) the other due to physical restrictions following a car accident and subsequent injury (go skydiving). I got to thinking how sad it was that I'd had so many opportunities to skydive prior to my accident and never took any of them. The excuses were plentiful albeit, if I'm being honest, lame. Once, I was too busy at work. Another time I couldn't justify spending the money.  Yet another time a friend gave me too little notice.  Looking back, all I can tell myself is: work to live, don't live to work, what good is the money if you can't enjoy it and a little spontaneity never hurt anyone.

These days, I don't often think about my bucket list but my goals have evolved over the years.  Seeing as my first list was created in my early 20's and contained such deep and discerning ideas such as "get a tattoo", "swim with dolphins" and "name a star", I decided to establish (at least the beginnings of) my new 30-something bucket list right here. In no particular order, here goes:

• Re-master my command of the French language
• Master another language (Italian)
• Test my mastery of both languages by returning to France, and visiting my family in Italy
• Travel more - eat my way across the country and around the world
• Learn more about wine
• Go back to school and pursue a career change involving either my first love (science/medicine) or my enduring love (cooking/baking)
• Do/learn something new every day 
• Write a cookbook
• Start a family
• Commit fully to a healthy lifestyle 
• Make time for the people who enrich my life
• Learn to let go of the toxic people who don't

That's a pretty ambitious start, but there's room for one more:

• Find new and exciting ways to create protein rich, meatless meals like this one