A new part time job?

It seems that I have found a new job–as a blogger.  Not really, of course, and from the looks of this blog–I’m not very good at it.

About the lack of postings: Recently I have joined a group of national bloggers that are all eating and blogging about eating local.  You can find us here.  We also started a small work blog about the same subject–look for links to that blog in August when the Eat Local America Challenge kicks off!

Oh-the fun to be had.

Santa Fe

I spent last week in Santa Fe and Albuquerque, New Mexico, for work and for some play. My mom has an office there and some of her friends invited us over for appetizers before we went out to dinner. Look at how pretty the table was!

The best thing about this table was that they made sure that there were plenty of gluten-free options. One of our hosts is trying to be gluten-free herself and took care to have plenty of options. I love it when that happens. It is great that celiac and gluten intolerance is becoming more mainstream. I know that there are still plenty of people that think it is impossible to eat without gluten, but I think the tide is turning and that makes me happy.

There was a surprise at the table though:

I totally thought these were olives. I have a love/hate relationship with olives, but similar to my taste for scotch, I think that all adults should have an adventurous and varied palate, so I try to like both. It’s working, sort of. The scotch, yes, the olives, I still have trouble liking. We kept talking about olives, until the host informed us that these were not black olives, but dark chocolate covered dried Bing cherries. Oh my. SO good. It was a great surprise. I didn’t have to pretend to like the olives and had some chocolate instead.

Sometimes I surprise myself.

So, I decided to become a vegetarian about 9-10 months ago. This decision surprised me, not to mention my family, since I love meat. I love bacon, lamb in any form, and really love the carnitas at Chipotle. (I know, it’s bad–don’t tell the co-op police.) Most of my meals before becoming a veggie consisted of some form of meaty goodness and a salad. Every day. Needless to say, changing my diet this drastically was a bit of a culture shock for a little while. (I still fight the Chipotle urge every week or so.)

The thing that changed my mind about being an omnivore is hard to explain. When I got promoted at the co-op to Newsletter Editor, aka Head of the Co-op Police, I began to really immerse myself in the political underpinnings of what it meant to be a natural foods co-op. There are tons of books out there about food safety, big agriculture and the American diet. The book I blame as the final straw in my growing pile of evidence to stop eating meat and therefore stop supporting the commercial meat industry that I feel is ruining our environment was Peter Singer’s “The Way We Eat.” (wow–I sound like a crazy in that last sentence.) Don’t read this book unless you are prepared to take a serious look at your diet and the ethical implications it.

On to my point: One of the things I REALLY miss about being a vegetarian is taco meat. I love tacos and used to eat them at least once a week. This morning I woke up with a huge craving for a taco, so I decided to figure out how to replicate them. I know there are some pretty good meat substitutes, like Smart Ground, that make a pretty comparable taco filling, but I also have a gluten intolerance that eliminates most of those types of fake meat products. (I know, you’re asking yourself how can I possibly survive without meat or wheat, but trust me, I don’t miss any meals.) I looked around on the internet for a while and eventually decided to wing it.

Here’s what I came up with:

Disclaimer: I rarely measure ingredients, so the amounts listed are just estimates, add more or less to your own taste. You will know when it’s right. It is kinda fun to watch me cook though–like a science experiment where you don’t know what will happen next but the end result is always interesting, to say the least.

1 pound of extra firm tofu, frozen and thawed

one small onion, chopped

two cloves garlic, minced

1 jalepeno, diced

1 medium orange bell pepper, diced

1 tsp. cumin

1-2 tsp. Hungarian paprika

1-2 tsp. chili powder

2 tbsp. tamari

sprinkle of Tapatio

1/4 cup lemon juice

1/4 cup tomato sauce

salt and pepper to taste

Mash the tofu in a small bowl. In a medium frying pan, heat 2 tbsp. canola oil and saute the onion and garlic until soft. Add tofu and peppers, stir to coat with the oil. Add spices followed by the lemon juice, Tapatio and tomato sauce. At this point, it will be pretty saucy, so let it simmer for about 30 minutes, or until it’s the consistency that you like.

I made my tacos with soft corn tortillas and topped them with salsa, queso fresco and shredded lettuce. Yum. It totally satisfied my craving for a taco. I really did surprise myself. Maybe this veggie thing won’t be so hard after all, now that I have tacos back.

I may have found it.

One of the sites that I really like is Nerve.com, an online magazine that talks about all sorts of things pertaining to relationships and sex.  They have a new forum where you can anonymously post secrets about your dating life.  Anything.  People admit to cheating, to having insecurities about their sexual prowess or talk about silly schoolgirl crushes.  I came across a post that I could have written and suddenly things were very clear to me.  “I’m pretty sure I stuck around because I got turned on by how much you disappointed me.”  Wow.  If that doesn’t describe every relationship I have ever had, then I don’t know what does. (Sorry boys, but it’s the truth. There may have been one that this doesn’t pertain to, but the rest of you sucked.)

So, in light of that realization, I am not sure how to proceed.  From someone who only stays when people disappoint me, is there any hope that I can turn things around?  Can I find the person that doesn’t disappoint? Do I want to? Will he  be everything I hoped for or will I find some reason to screw things up?  One can only speculate, given my current situation, but it sure is a great speculation.  Maybe I will get rid of the list in the previous post and just settle for the white hat wearing, jock boy lurkers that seem to surround me, given my taste for disappointment.

We know that in reality I am not going to give up the list just yet, but I thought you all should have a little bit of insight into the mediocrity that is my life.  Poor me.

On a happier note, I made the best beans tonight.  Liz would tell me to food-pimp them, but since I don’t have a digital camera that works, you will have to imagine these.  Cranberry beans and kombu, with roasted garlic, roasted eggplant, caramelized onions, parsley, tossed with lemon, olive oil and salt.  Yum. I love cranberry beans.  You can find them in any Italian grocery store.  There are tons of things you can do with them, sometimes they are called borlotti also. Next time I will make them earlier in the night though, since I finished with everything around midnight and had to control myself so I wouldn’t have crazy, I ate too much before bed dreams.

The Act of Not Settling

So, since I have decided not to settle for just anyone, I figured that I should make it official and write down just what I won’t be settling for less than. Here you go, applications can be sent through comments, no reasonable applicant will be denied a chance.

There is no particular order to this list.

1. He must be smart, preferably as smart or smarter than me. However, he can’t be arrogant about it, unless we are being arrogant together in mocking others for poor fashion or bad hair. There is nothing worse than being patronized.

2. He must wear good shoes. Please, no high top sneakers or All Converse, All the Time guys. Good shoes are very important.

3. There will be no mention of Nascar, EVER. Sports fans in general need not apply.

4. There will be no quoting movies while we are watching them. If you have seen the movie already, keep it to yourself.

5. He must be able to eat things other than the typical meat and potatoes diet, and he will not put a condiment on EVERYTHING I make. It is not acceptable to offend the chef by slathering your dinner in ranch dressing or barbecue sauce before even tasting it. Even then, ranch dressing eaters will be seriously thought twice about.

6. He will be able to tell me who the Secretary of State is, maybe even to the State level.

7. He will read, and not only magazines and blogs.

8. He will want to travel with me and not tell me I packed too many shoes. He will offer to carry my luggage for me, even though I may have packed too many shoes.

9. My vintage dresses will not be mocked, nor will my shoes, coats, or handbags. I like them, it makes me feel good to dress up. I will continue to do so, and applicants must be secure enough to walk proudly next to me.

10. Beards or goatees are strongly discouraged.

11. He must have good fashion sense. No stonewashed jeans or sweatshirts in public.

12. Good shoes. Good shoes. Good shoes. (did I mention this before? It’s really important)

13. He drinks his coffee black. I don’t trust men who put too much cream and sugar in their coffee, unless they are Cuban. I will let this one slide for a Cuban, because Cubans know coffee.

14. He must not tell me I drink too much. If I want to have wine with dinner or a glass before, I will. If I want to spend my money on scotch and obscure liqueurs with names I can’t pronounce, I will. I, in turn, will promise to not become an alcoholic who cries for no reason.

15. He should be able to talk about all kinds of music, from Sugar to Chet Baker to Wagner’s Ring Trilogy. He will also be into going to see live music of any type.

16. TV addicts also need not apply. He must be fine with me listening to public radio all day Saturday. He must know a bit about public radio also, or at least have a few favorite podcasts.

17. He will open doors for me. He will unlock my door when getting in the car first or make sure I don’t have to jump a snowbank to get in. He will ask me if it is too windy with his window down and never roll mine down without checking with me first.

18. He doesn’t smoke, tobacco or otherwise.

19. He doesn’t chew tobacco.

20. He doesn’t spit.

21. He likes to try new restaurants, and has an adventurous palate.

22. His wine never comes from a box.

23. He never drinks light beer, or typical domestic beer for that matter.

24. He can pronounce “escape” without an x.

25. He doesn’t own a cat, or even worse, multiple cats.

I think that’s enough for now. I am sure more will come to me, but this list is a good one to get started with. Seems possible, right?

Maybe I AM too picky

I have been quite introspective today. Maybe it’s all the whiskey I drank last night, or maybe it’s something else, but that’s where I am today.
A friend asked me to write about some of the deal breakers I have when dating.  I came up with a list and sent it to him, then realized that I could keep going. And going, and going.  So, now I am left wondering if maybe I am too cynical and picky. He reminded me of an article written by Lori Gottlieb about the option of settling. She argues that the idea of romantic love is not viable in today’s world and women should get over it and settle for Mr. Right Now instead of waiting for Mr. Big.  I suppose this is a viable option, but the more I think about it, the more I don’t want to just settle. She makes me mad.  The reason why I have all these dealbreakers, that range from not putting your bed on the floor to not wearing baseball hats, is because I will not settle.  I want crazy, head over heals, moving-across-the-country-to-be-with-someone love, even if it only lasts for a short time.

I think that the settlers of the world are exactly what’s wrong with the world. Everyone around me settles, I see it all the time.  I suppose I have too, by dating men who are less than challenging or have more than one of my dealbreakers that I overlook. Let it be known that going forward, I will not be settling.  Take that, Ms. Gottlieb.

A Tale of Two Cod

I just returned from a weekend in LaCrosse, WI.  I am now convinced that people do not eat in LaCrosse, because we didn’t.  I attended the Organic Farming Conference, held annually in LaCrosse.  The conference itself was interesting enough, as interesting it can be for a city girl who really wants to move to San Francisco or New York.  However, when we attempted to find a decent restaurant to spend our co-op’s per diem money in, we were out of luck.  Defeated and hungry, we returned from a walk around the two blocks of downtown LaCrosse to the hotel bar.

For reasons unbeknownst to me, I decided to try the Lemon Pepper Cod from the menu.  Actually, I know why I chose that dish, it’s because I couldn’t eat anything else except for the Italian Nachos.  Something told me that the ghosts of thousands of Italians would descend on my conscious  if I ate something called Italian Nachos.  I mean, really. So, cod it was.  When the food came, I quickly realized that my cod was very undercooked.  Don’t get me wrong, I love sushi, but not from a hotel bar that serves pizza fries. I sent it back to be finished, and when I attempted to eat the rubbery pieces that resembled someones arthritic old fingers, something told me that I would be better off not consuming this stuff.  I settled for my steamed broccoli (which was my dinner for the second night in a row) and ordered another glass of wine.

After the final presentation of the conference, we decided that rather than attempt to eat in LaCrosse again, we would eat on our way back to the city.  Having struck out all weekend, I was not expecting anything.  We decided to go to The Norton’s, a restaurant in Bay  City, WI owned by the husband and wife team of Greg and Sarah Norton.  Greg also has a claim to fame as the bass player for Husker Du, and currently plays with Gang Font, which also includes Dave King, one of my personal favorite drummers.  So, I had to control my groupie tendencies and attempt to play it cool while I was there. I think I did alright.

We began the meal with two little boats filled with pickled green tomatoes and a plate of Spanish almonds, Manchego cheese topped with quince and andouille sausage.  The tomatoes were SO good. I love quince. I decided that I needed to erase the memory of last night’s cod and ordered cod again from Norton’s.  Granted, there was no where to go but up, but when I had my first bite of the miso and sake marinated black cod with crimini mushrooms, brown rice and a miso sauce, I was in love. The fish was wonderfully light and flakey,  the miso was sweet and delicate and the mushrooms balanced it all with a rich saltiness.  Maybe it was the lack of food all weekend, but I ate every bit of it. I was even a little sad afterwards.  It was one of those meals that you don’t really want to end.  There were very few things that could have been better, mainly that I wished I was there with a hot date instead of my coworkers (sorry guys) but some things can’t be helped.

What’s the moral of this story?  Never eat fish in a hotel bar, unless the hotel is within ten miles of the ocean where it was caught. I’m glad that Norton’s was able to give me something to look back upon my mini-trip with happiness. Go check them out.

Say it with a British Accent

I think that everything sounds better with a British accent. Here is the perfect example. This site has provided me with endless entertainment for the past few days. Just remember, if you can’t sleep, you can always pretend you are Superman.

It’s been bothering me.

Do you ever have those days when you really feel like you just should have stayed in bed? Today is that day for me.

I was thinking that today would be OK. I woke up early, thanks to the marvelous new melatonin supplement I have been taking and even cleaned the house a bit before heading out. That’s when my problems started. The temperature outside this morning was a balmy 14 degrees below zero and I made the mistake of touching my screen door without a glove on. That hurt. I make it to the car, get the dog in, and put my coffee on the center console and the car crankily starts. Meanwhile, my coat is so cold that I fear it may crumble. We get to the first stop sign, stop, start to go and nearly hit a car that came out of nowhere. I slam on the brakes and my cold-press coffee, which I have so conveniently carried outside in a topless cup, goes flying all over the center console of the car. Before I can even stop to mop up the mess, it has frozen solid.

There are a few questions that you may be asking yourself right now, like why in the hell is someone drinking cold press in January, but the answer is simple. I fucking like cold press, dammit. With soymilk and maple syrup. Let me have this one pleasure if I have to live in Minnesota all winter. I want to pretend I am somewhere warmer. I implore you.

So, now there is cold press with soymilk and maple syrup frozen to my car. The dog knows he is going to the overpriced Doggie Daycare facility he occasionally goes to, so he is running circles in the back of my VW Golf. I am crabby and have lost sensation in my toes. I get him there and head off to work.

It doesn’t get better from there so I’m going to save myself the pain of reliving the drama.

I should have stayed in bed.

Scratch that.

Ok, the first entry was great and all, but let’s be real. If you are really interested in my culinary expoits, then you can visit my new website. That’s where I’ll pretend to be a grown-up. So–on with the fun.

I found this today: Top 100 reasons why your’e single. Too funny. I have not laughed this hard since I quit smoking pot. 46 is my favorite. I have recently been entertaining the idea of online dating, and have met number 46 on several occasions. Needless to say, he’s still single. It also made me feel a LOT better about myself, but also made me wonder why I am still single, if not for the reasons they listed. Must be some deep-rooted emotional problem. For some reason, I am ok with this, since I have never in my life owned a pair of “jorts.” That word makes me giggle even when I write it.