Nurgers?

You've gotta love technology.  We've come so far, yet sometimes it seems like all this progress does nothing more than hamper interpersonal communications.  I admit it; I'm guilty of falling prey to the instant gratification communication needs of the cellular technology age.  I am an avid texter.  I'd rather shoot off a quick text message than have a lengthy chit chat.  No small talk, no pleasantries - why should I pick up a phone and actually talk to someone when I can get my message across in 160 characters or less? And, with the advent of smartphones with Swype and Slide-It keyboard technology it's become that much easier to send messages.  I can swipe out a text message in seconds flat (she says with pride)! There's only one problem.  My smartphone isn't as smart as it claims. 

For years, I had cell phones with T9 technology to predict and auto-correct my typing errors.  But could it be?  Was there something better?  A phone that would seemingly know what I wanted to say almost before I did? I had to have it! Welcome 2011 and enter my very first smartphone with Swype.  Simply slide your finger across the touch pad keyboard, drawing the pattern of the word you want to spell, and the phone will correctly predict what you are attempting to say.  A lot of the time, it's surprisingly accurate.  But then there are those times, the times that there's been an entire website (which can be lewd) devoted to, when auto-correct seems to take on a mind of its own and your intended sentiment becomes one big fail. Which is exactly how we ended up having nurgers for dinner one night.

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?!

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)! 

Smoky Southwest Turkey Meatballs

Sometimes necessity really does breed invention.  Such was the case with these meatballs.  It started with a package of ground turkey a few days shy of its expiration date.  I needed to get this turkey out of the fridge and fast so the brainstorm began.  Turkey burgers?  Not tonight and besides, they are so much better when grilled outside on a perfect 70 degree evening, 2 puppies playing at our feet, and with my grill master away for the night, this was not that perfect 70 degree evening. A Greek twist?  Maybe another night.  Spaghetti and...?  Nope...not in the mood to make sauce.  Our old standby with soy sauce and lime (recipe will be forthcoming)? Nah...I needed something different.

Have you ever had one of those moments where, blinded by hunger, nothing sounds good?  I know it barely makes sense but it's precisely how I ended up staring into our pantry, bemused and befuddled by the litany of spices looking back at me and desperately seeking inspiration.  Nearly an hour later, after sorting through and reorganizing said spices I emerged with a brand new bottle of smoked paprika, some ancho chile powder and an idea for a smoky southwest inspired meatball.  So I was off to Fairway for some fresh produce and to spend an exorbitant amount of time perusing the cheese case.

The last time I got pulled into the vortex of a fresh cheese case, I discovered baked ricotta with chocolate chips.  I'm finding it hard to put into words just how delightful this cheese is, not because there isn't enough to say about it, but because words simply can't do it justice.  The texture is velvety and smooth like traditional ricotta, only firmer, yet not quite as firm as ricotta salata.  Slightly sweet, it dances over your tongue as it warms in your mouth and the chocolate chips begin to melt, perfuming the cheese with an almost tart butteriness. It's almost as if someone solidified the filling to the most perfect cannoli - I'm sorry, cannoli shells, but your crunchy services are no longer needed.  Anyway, where was I?  Oh yes, on my way to Fairway, my intentions to gather a few quick items for my meatball experiment and then get lost in cheese (not too difficult for me, as I'm sure you've gathered).  What happened when I got there gave me pause.