The Reckoning

Today, the alarm clock went off and I groaned. Champagne, ham, prime rib, potatoes of all sort and way too many desserts slowed my senses and made me weak.

A Christmas hangover if there ever was one.

But this is December 27th. Christmas is over.

I knew what I needed to do. It was time to confess my sins.

Rising from my warm slumber, I put on the appropriate raiments and went to face the only entity that could absolve me from my indiscretions.

TM* looked at me with that one cold eye. He knew what I'd been up to. The last time we'd visited had been eight days ago.

Eight days.

A lot of bad behavior can happen in eight days.

A lot of bad behavior DID happen in eight days.

There was no turning back now. I entered the confessional and slowly began my ablutions.

The iPod went into my ears and shuffle fired up. No need for a hymnal, I know the words by heart.

Five minutes passed. Hey, I thought to myself, this is not so bad!

At about the fifteen minute mark, my left calf piped up. "Pardon me, but with all that booze you had, we're a skosh dehydrated. Potassium low and all that. I believe I'll go ahead and cramp right up."

I said to myself, "just keep walking."

At about the twenty five minute mark, my lower back chimed in. "Yes, yes, cramping does seem to be the thing to do. Huzzah!"

"Just keep walking."

Then my feet had something to say, with a backing chorus from my knees.

"Just keep walking."

My hip flexors asked, in a rather snotty tone, "Why *exactly* are we doing this?"

The very sweat glands of my body began exhaling stale booze and toxins.

I replied by turning my iPod up louder and putting an ever more determined look on my face and then I...

Just kept walking.

At the fifty minute mark, I'd said all the metaphorical Hail Marys and Glory be to the Fathers I could manage. I'd done my act of contrition.

I was absolved.

Kind of.

I suspect that tomorrow, I'll need to go confess again.

You know, New Year's Eve is just there on the horizon.

And the confessional is waiting.

*TM = Treadmill

Are you there, baklava? It's me, Karen

You know, I'm really very spoiled. Terribly so, and I must work to not let it all go to my head.

But, I must also say...I deserve a little spoiling now and again...

Like, say, around the celebrations of my birth? Yes. Always a good time to spoil me rotten, and my wonderful mom-in-law held nothing back.

In fact, Sunday was a darn good day in my life.

The day started with the opening of Localvision 2010, a photography exhibition. I was invited to add a photo to the event, and was totally geeked out by the first real gallery showing of my photography.

The Good Man and his mom went along with me to be my entourage for the fun.

It was really heady to see my framed print on the wall and to see people looking at it and talking about their impressions of the image. It pretty much made we want to go hide in the bathroom for the duration. But I held strong.

After the gallery opening, we went to my mom-in-law's place for dinner.

And oh what a dinner.

For appetizers, there was guacamole (yum!) and Italian salami, and olive and feta cheese and oh my!

I was already starting to fill up.

But then, oh then.......

That amazing cook made me chopped chicken livers. Fresh! From scratch! I saw the actual raw livers before the magic began!

Oh my heavenly days! My love of da liver is well documented.

A whole bowl of homemade liver-y delight! All for me me me me!

Whooooo! I get dizzy just thinking about it. It was the best chopped liver ever in my history.

I almost wept. I really did. It was a brown lump of heaven on a cracker.

If loving cooked chopped organ meat is wrong, I don't want to be right.

As I surrounded the bowl, my husband had to remind me that I could take some home, I wasn't required to eat it all there. Seriously, I was afraid someone would take it away from me!

But there was more!

Succulent chicken for dinner with the most delicate and tasty potatoes on the side.

And then....

Oh then....

Homemade baklava for dessert.

For me! Me me me me me!

Ok, I shared the baklava with The Good Man since he'll eat it (and not liver).

But damn!

I loved my multicultural dinner (Mexican, Greek, Italian, Jewish, etc). I felt so incredibly spoiled and it was one of the best birthday presents EVER!

Whoo.

Today I might need to take a walk and burn a calorie or two. I may have overindulged just a skosh.

And that baklava in my 'fridge. It calls to me. Sings to me. Beckons me to come and sample of the tasty goodness inside.

I. Can't. Resist.

The chicken liver is already gone. I couldn't resist it so much I had it for breakfast, lunch and dinner and every snack in between.

*burp*

Feliz Cumpleaños para me!

Not sharp enough to know I was supposed to be humiliated

Ok, so I thought this was an odd title for an online article:

"How not to feel humiliated when dining alone"

Um. Why would I? I rather enjoy eating out alone.

Given the photo of the sad lonely brunette (she HAD to be a brunette, right?) that accompanies the article, I think reading between the lines, the title of the article is more like:

"You sad lonely dried up old maid. How terrible that you have to eat alone."

Because *clearly* the target audience for this story isn't guys. I don't know that most guys would feel humiliated dining alone. They'd pull up a chair to the bar, order a beer and dive in. Isn't all this fuss and kerfuffle a girl thing?

The story goes on to offer several suggestions for how that lonely gal can make it through such a harrowing experience as having to dine alone like reading a book or staring into her mobile device.

Please. Eating out alone is great. You don't have to share your dessert, you can drink too many glasses of wine if you want, and you can burp at the table. What's not to love about this experience?

And oh the people watching. So much to take in!

Plus, plenty of couples look miserable dining together. But they are not "humiliated" because they are not alone, so it's ok? Bah!

I guess I sort of thought we were past the days when someone eating alone in a restaurant was a weird thing. So many people travel for business or just choose to spend time alone. In my book this is no longer odd.

And the conventional wisdom used to be that as a solo diner the wait staff wouldn't serve you as well (one person means smaller tab means smaller tip) but I have found the opposite to be true. I think wait staff rather enjoy the ease of just one person at the table. No question where the entrée goes!

I've not ever felt slighted or mistreated when dining alone. It works just fine.

Sure, I'd rather have The Good Man there because, mainly, he makes any thing I do a lot more fun (he could make going to the dentist for a root canal a worthwhile adventure!). But if I'm away from him and I'm hungry, well, a girl's gotta eat!

Honestly most of my girlfriends are the same way. Eating alone in a restaurant is no biggie.

Most girls half my age are twice as bold as me, so I don't think they have issues either.

Who is this story really aimed at? As I read the comments, most of the ladies chiming in seem to agree with my point of view on this.

And seems most agree that the title of the article is just plain terrible.

I guess my message to the author is to simply quote the comment left by a reader named Melissa:

"Thanks for bashing my confidence in eating alone. I guess now when I take myself out to lunch to be awesome I have to feel HUMILIATED instead."

So there!

A love story

A journey through the soul, told in the chosen format of crappy iPhone photos.

Oh coffee. How I love you so. (Yes, I know the cup is empty. It didn't last long. I slurped that thing through that pretty blue straw and uttered an "aaaaah" when finished.)

Yes, I love you oh so much. Sadly, you don't love me in return. You leave my stomach acidy, my esophagus crying out for relief and my adrenals asking for a nice day off.

It is a star-crossed love affair. And a fairly one sided love.

Ice cream, oh ice cream! Rich, creamy, frosty, tasty ice cream. How I adore you as you caress my mouth with your sugary creamy goodness.

But as much as I love you, you don't love me back the same way. You leave me phlegmy. Also, all that sugar doesn't help my already acidy tummy.

And you always seem to take up residence on my already poochy belly and round hips.

Damn you ice cream, for being so tantalizing and so not good for me!

Cheese! My sweet longtime lover, cheese! You and I go back to the early years. Remember all the grilled cheese sandwiches we shared? Sprinkling you over enchiladas and broiling until bubbly? Remember when I'd just hack off a slice and eat you as you are, because you and I are so simpatico like that?

Truly, you aren't terrible for me when enjoyed in moderation, but how can I possibly enjoy your delicious goodness in moderation! No, I indulge too much in my love and you join ice cream on my hips.

It's cruel, cheese, just too cruel. I mean, after all we've shared!!

Ah full fat ranch. You tempting, tempting fella. You flirt with me. Wink your little bottled dressing eye and beg me to partake.

Much like cheese, a little occasionally, fine. But who can have a *little* and why occasionally?

But you mock me. You taste so yum and then you turn on me and do mean things!

It's not right! I love you so much, why can't you show me a little kindness?

What's this? Oh, hey lettuce. What are you doing here? Hmm, yeah, uh, nice to see you too.

I have what can certainly be described as kind regards for you. I'm sure you're a very nice comestible.

You just don't...turn me on.

But you seem to *adore* me. Oh sure, you treat me so nice, giving me nutrients and not settling on my hips. Providing energy and fiber and you are such a hair parted down the middle, church on Sunday, help little old ladies across the street nice sweet gentle food.

It's just...I don't *want* nice!

I want wild! And passionate! And fascinating and rich complex textures!

I want to run with the bad kids and cut class and down twinkies and potato chips and stick my tongue out at "health" experts!

I want....I want.....

Hey, hey good lookin'.....what's your name? Wanna run around with me and coffee?

Oh, wait, who is that over there? Well hellooooo handsome!

Wanna take a walk on the beach, hand in hand, and watch the sun set? Wouldn't that be a nice way to spend some time together?

I know I'm flirting...I can't help it!

Oh wait, what's this?

Oh crap. That's not playing fair...

Hellloooooo lover!

For my own good

So in trying to feel better physically and mentally, I've made the choice to give up most of the sugar in my diet. Caffeine too, including decaf (it has some caffeine).

I'm ok on the caffeine part. That's no problem, I've never really been able to have that much and when I do, I feel like crap.

Oh but giving up the sugar. It's killing me.

I hear that quitting cigarettes is about the most difficult thing ever. I've never been a smoker, so I can't compare.

But I can say that Demon Sugar is whispering in my ear right now. "Just one cookie. It won't hurt. You'll feel so much better! That headache will go away! You'll have a little lift! Come on! Just one chocolate bar, what can it do?"

Gad, even this image makes me drool.

I gotsa problem!

The roots of my raising run deep...

Ok, well, maybe a taste of the holiday spirit came and got me this weekend.

The tree went up.

And the kitchen got cookin'.

It ain't Christmas without a batch of biscochitos. (Recipe here from the PNM cookbook.) It's a family tradition.

Here are the little beauties, just before going in the oven....deelish already:

And then, fully cooked, fulfilling their destiny. So lightly baked, so flaky, so anise-y. Oh yeah. New Mexico comes to visit.

Many of these bad boys will be going with me to work. These Californians need a taste of where I come from!

An ode

To the humble cupcake.

Not all cupcakes are humble. Just mine.

Recently, for whatever reason I can't rightly explain, cupcakes have taken on a certain caché, especially with my fellow Gen X'ers.

And there is a big trend toward really pretty cupcakes.

Many folks are even having these pretty cupcakes for their wedding cake. (no, not mine...)

A really powerful, domestic and "womanly" woman at work makes cupcakes with some frequency. She proudly walks in the office with a trendy cool container full of lovely pink treats.

*sigh*

I detailed recently about making a birfday cake for my ownself, and since then, I've been pondering better icing recipes.

So yesterday I decided to make cupcakes, which gave me a chance to whip up some frosting.

The cupcakes? Well. They taste good, anyway.

The Good Man and I ate plenty.

But pretty? No. The frosting turned out an odd consistency. Yummy, but weird.

So when TGM and I had eaten our fill, I packed up the rest and brought them to work.

These wolves will eat anything.

Although, I have to say, there *is* something uniquely satisfying watching people eat my sad little creations. Something weirdly "female" to make good eats that people enjoy.

The reviews so far have been "tasty, not too sweet, but yeah, the frosting looks weird."

Oh well.

Martha Stewart need not worry about giving up her crown to me…yet.

Here's a blurry iPhone photo to give you the idea.

And I soldier on…

Multi-tasking!

I ended up taking this business trip to Florida on my own, and as such, I have been cooped up in this hotel for two solid days (literally….I jogged outside on a break during the conference today because I hadn't seen the sun in two days).

So tonight, I decided to venture out. On my own.

I have a good friend at work who grew up near Orlando and she recommended a local restaurant. With the grace of dog and a Google map, I headed out.

It's a place called Hemingway's. I was a little non-plussed given that it's part of the local Hyatt.

But this friend of mine has impeccable taste, so I trusted.

I made a reservation under the name "Smith" for one little me.

When I got to the place (after getting PROFOUNDLY lost on some Florida byways), I realized that I had forgotten to bring my book with me. I wondered what I'd do to entertain my lonely self.

There was no need to worry. My reservation was for 7:00pm which is just 4:00pm back at work.

So I checked email. Let me tell you, yes, I was one of those obnoxious people tapping at my iPhone over dinner.

But over the course of one and one half hours, here is what I was able to accomplish:

1) Lengthy email conversation with my boss to figure out bonus amounts for my team this quarter.

2) Email conversation with our team's admin to set up seating chart for our group office move in three weeks.

3) Also via email, set up this year's baseball bet for the season. Another $20 wager with that bum Dodger's fan friend of mine that the Giants will finish above his suck team in the final standings. Year one, I won. Year 2, he won. Year three, he won. My team is so lame this year I should just put away the $20 now…

4) Did SMS love to my work friend because that dinner was really top notch, she was spot on.

5) Assigned a project to one of my employees.

and most importantly…

6) Exchanged love words with The Good Man because I miss him so terribly much.

Not a bad day's work over a glass of Pinot Noir and some really delicious scallops.

With belly full, I'm back in my hotel room, bloaty, happy and ready to sleep well tonight.

W00t!

My Happy Meal

In one of those "I saw something and that gave me an idea for something else" moments, I was scanning the Albuquerque Tribune today and looked under the "Photos" heading where sometimes they have little "Viewfinder" vignettes with a cool black and white photo accompanying. Today there is a link with the title Viewfinder: His happy meal.

It's a cute little story about a dog. But that's not the point of this post.

Just reading that title in my stressed out work haste made me think about food, comfort food (it is my lunch hour, after all). I have been so tweaked out with work and personal issues that I have been eating a LOT, lately. Taking to fats and sweets and salty to try to make me feel better about a life that feels on the verge. It's doing nothing to help my waistline and doing even less to improve my mood.

Nonetheless, as I sit here with rumbling in my tum, I had a thought upon reading that title "What meal would make me happy?" Kind of like a turn on "If you were on death row, what would be your last meal?"

My mom wasn't that great a cook, so I don't have a lot of "home cooked" stuff I could list. But let me take a stab at it.

If I had to eat a last meal and there were no space or calorie limitations on my tummy, here's top ten what I'd have:

1) My best friend's homemade chile rellenos. She makes them with chile grown by her uncle, the flavor is fantastic and she has just the right batter to make them light and delicious. Alongside her with her pressure cooked pinto beans, she makes the best beans, hands down.

2) Beef Lasagne from Sodini's in San Francisco. And the seafood linguini.....

3) Fried Calamari from Caesar's down near the Wharf in San Francisco. And the Minestrone....

4) The green chile chicken enchiladas with an egg and sour cream on top from Gardunos....and a couple margs...I love Gardunos mix. And the carne adovada......

5) Pretty much anything made by my brother-in-law, but his mashed potatoes rock my little world.......

6) My mom's tortillas "back in the day". She can't put the finesse on 'em like she used to, but circa about when I was seven years old and we'd come home from Saturday Mass and she'd roll 'em out and I'd cook 'em on the griddle. Layer on marinated beef or game meat, cheese and you were off to the races......

7) Anything from Legal Sea Foods in Boston.

8) Hamburger. All of the following:
A green chile cheeseburger from Blakes.
A Whataburger.
A Fuddruckers hamburger circa 1986. (I went recently, it's yucky now, but back then it was da bomb! ).
A carefully cooked thick burger over a campfire on a bun that *might* have a little sand or ash on it but who cares because you've been swimming in the lake/fishing/ hiking/ skiing all day and you are FAMISHED and besides you already ate two hotdogs......

9) My own chile con queso and chips

10) Huevos rancheros from this restaurant in Albuquerque that is now defunct and it will plague me all day until I can remember the name......

Honorable mention:

Biscuits hand made by the mom of my college roommate along with her homemade apricot jam....next to two farm fresh (I pulled 'em this morning) over easy fried eggs.

Homemade ice cream (my best friend's recipe) and a couple of my homemade chocolate chip cookies

Anything from Chopies, Nopolitos or Sadies

An Owl Burger (the one in San Antonio, NM, not the Albuquerque location)

Pizza from New York City, preferably the borough of Brooklyn....

Anything from the Aqua Grill in SoHo.

A good old fashioned Polish buffet alongside my Midwest family in South Bend. Ah the fried chicken! And the sausages! And the saurkraut! : drool :

Crabs, lobsters and clams straight outta the pot by the pool at the home of my best friend from high school. Ah, those were good days.....

I'm sure there is a lot I'm missing, but that'll do for now. I'm happy. And hungry.

: rumble :

State Approved Yummies

This past weekend I had a hankering. I'm a bit depressed and no small amount of stressed out and I was in need of some comfort food. You know, the something like mom used to make.

I woke up Sunday morning with a strong hankering for Biscochitos. So I gazed over the recipe, decided on Crisco over traditional lard, looked in my liquor cabinet to see if had the requisite brandy (I didn't) and set off to the grocer for all the goods. I already had anise seed so I was ahead of the game......

You have to understand, this was a rare bit of homemakering that I’m not used to. Neither is my long suffering, but very patient partner. But he knows he gets to enjoy the fruits of my nesting, so he's all good.

I mixed and blended, whipped the eggs, poured the brandy (as a kid when I made them I always found a way to sample the brandy as it went in, just a small teaspoon full for me, and it always made me go "bleah! Why would anyone drink this?" As a grown up, just the smell made me "ew", so no sampling this time.....)

Soon I had a stiff dough to work with and I cursed while rolling it out and cutting the individual cookies. As is tradition, I burned one batch (I *always* burn at least one batch while making ANY kind of cookie). But soon I'd turned out a pile of the sweet, but not too sweet, treats. I shared some with the neighbors. I ate my fill until I was sick, and then came the litmus test. My Brooklyn boyfriend gave them a nibble and declared them as addictive as I know them to be (he rocks, by the way).

So I was all up in my Biscochito bliss when I read this article in the Las Cruces Sun News.

The ice cream mix, pecans and Biscochitos, sounds divine. But what caught my eye is that I guess I somehow missed that in 1989 the New Mexico State Legislature made the Biscochito the "official state cookie".

I *had* heard that the current plump Governor loves these same anise treats turned out by the chef at the Governor's mansion. Wouldn't that be great? To have someone turn out a batch of delicious just like that, whenever you want? Wow. I'd be a plump Governor too....

So not only did I make comfort food, I made NM State approved comfort food. Go me!

By the way, the recipe I use comes from the "Cocinas de New Mexico" cookbook put out by PNM. The recipe is online here. That "Cocinas de New Mexico" cookbook is a dandy if you don't already have one. I have always used the quite old version my mom has but I will probably order one of my own.

Just....yum.



Artist Diana Bryer's "Making Biscochitos"

Travesty!

Oh sure, sure, it's all "retro" and everything...but it's not what I recall from MY childhood. Banana flavor seems....wrong....

Twinkies come in banana flavor

"NEW YORK — Twinkie lovers, get ready to go bananas.

Hostess - owned by Kansas City, Mo., company Interstate Bakeries Corp. - began selling the banana-creme snack cakes last week at retail stores nationwide, returning to its 70-year-old roots. From 1930, when the Twinkie was first invented, to the 1940s, Twinkies were filled solely with banana creme. But a banana shortage during WWII forced Hostess to replace it with the vanilla flavor."

And by the way, may I just say "ew!" Artificial banana flavored ANYTHING makes me gag, and : shudder :