three hundred and twenty-nine

That was the longest "tomorrow" ever. I had intended to share my recipe for green beans last Wednesday, followed by my Thanksgiving pictures and this week's menu plan* on Friday, but the holidays got in my way. I managed to overwork my side effect addled self to the point that I almost ended up being hospitalized for IV fluids.

As a last "please don't make me pay the ER copay" resort, after three days of tons of vomiting and little to no eating and drinking, I buckled down and followed some weird Oregon Trail-esque rehydration treatment (no, I am not kidding) that involved teaspoonfuls of room temperature water every 15 minutes. I kept 72+ ounces down last night, and I'm halfway through my third-24 ounce tumbler of water today as I speak, so I think it's safe to say I have dodged yet another medical bullet.

So, without further ado, here's a recipe I never want to see again. I'm not sure if I can recommend anyone make it, as it only ever seems to cause frustration for me whenever I try to share the recipe. If you're one of those daredevils who likes living on the edge, click through for the recipe. Caveat coquus!

*Speaking of menu plans... I have a big old cache of them built up. Do any of you want to see what I ate a few weeks ago? I'm thinking not, because there's only so many menus one can read without going mad.

three hundred

"I’m not a fan of summer; it’s hot, sticky, and—for someone as pale as I—sunburny.  I spend most of the summer indoors, hoping for a cloudy day.  For reasons probably related to my aversion to summer, I long ago decided that August is, in fact, autumn.  And what does autumn mean?  Soup, of course!  Every year, I spend my late summer early autumn days making and consuming vats of soup.  In the first week of my imagined autumn, I have already jumped into preparing my favorite soup: French onion."

Read the rest of the post "French Onion Soup" at Home Ec 101.

P.S.  Holy guacamole!  300 posts!  I may need to reconsider my post naming system before I hit one thousand...

two hundred and forty-five

Though I've been menu planning for the last five years or so, I still have my share of those what's for dinner tonight? moments.  They don't happen regularly or even often, but sometimes I realize that what I had planned simply wasn't going to work for whatever reason.  As someone who loves to plan and be organized, those moments drive me absolutely bonkers and often lead to a cheap but only kind of satisfying meal at a restaurant downtown that has epically good pickles. 

Since I decided to modify my grocery budget a couple of weeks ago, however, buying a BLT as an excuse to eat pickles is no longer an option (if I want my husband to eat every day of any given week, that is).  I figured I could avoid those what's for dinner? moments by more carefully planning my menus, but chronic pain and awkwardly timed Fresh Direct deliveries can get in the way of even my best laid plans--which is why I found myself wandering the Shop Rite in search of some sort of quick, budget-friendly meal last Friday.

I immediately saw yellow rice for 49 cents a packet, so I threw a couple of those in my basket.  I grabbed some black beans because, duh, black beans go with yellow rice.  Since my husband likes meat in meals, I decided I'd blacken some chicken, and since I like to not die of malnutrition, I decided some peppers and onions would round out the mix.  The only problem was how to serve it.  Feeling lazy, I decided on throwing it in a bowl and calling it a day.  Honestly, I wasn't looking forward to it, but the bowl'o'Mexican-ish stuff ended up being easy and delicious. 

Best of all, I got a blog post out of it!  Woohoo!

two hundred and thirty-seven

Growing up, I didn't eat fast food very often.  My car-having friends, on the other hand, would usually stop and get something to eat on the way home from school.  Since I was in the car I got to be the little bird that stole a chip or two while they weren't looking.  No one minded and it would have been a perfect system had I not developed a taste for some of those greasy eats.  Now that I'm doing the "adult" thing, I can run to McDonalds and get a Big Mac should I feel so inclined--which I do once or twice a year (usually when on a road trip)--but the frustration known as the "regional chain" doesn't always allow for fulfillment of my random cravings for, say, Zaxby's.

Zaxby's is a Southern chicken semi-sit down restaurant (the kind where you order, sit, and then have your food brought to you) that would be unremarkable without one thing: Zax Sauce.  A mix of mayonnaise, ketchup, and a couple of other things, it is capable of making the most boring of chicken strips into an experience.  Okay, maybe I'm exaggerating a little bit, but if I am it's not by much.  I can't buy the Zax Sauce in the South and smuggle it home in my luggage since the little containers say to "keep refrigerated" (ahem).  This predicament has left me with only one solution: restaurant recipe rip off!

one hundred and ninety-eight

I absolutely love Mexican food (as evidenced by my menu plans,) but I hate to admit that I am not a fan of "real" Mexican food.  Something about the lack of cheese (sorry, but my stomach does not recognize cotijo as cheese) combined with the corn tortillas and pickled onions never fails to leave me wanting for a drive through taco.  I suppose this means I'm not really a "foodie," but I know that I can't be alone in preferring nachos to menudo, right? 

It certainly feels as though I am when I try to eat at Mexican restaurants in New Jersey.  When Mr N and I lived in the South, we would go out for tacos or nachos (or pollo fundido!) once a month or so.  It was cheap and entirely unauthentic, but over the top delicious.  It makes my mouth water to think about the cheesy, crunchy mess of a meal to this day, but there is simply no where in the area(that isn't a chain) that sells the cheap "Mexican" food I crave. 

So, I make my own.  Sometimes it'll be your standard issue beef + taco seasoning + hard taco shells, other times it will be carnitas, but more often than not we end up having chicken soft tacos.  Not only is the recipe super easy, it is inexpensive, reheats well, and is sure to please anyone who even kind of likes homemade Mexican food.  It's so good, it may just become your go to recipe (in my oh so humble opinion.  Ahem.)

one hundred and seventy-five

My favorite thing about wintertime is not crackling fires, fuzzy scarves, or the serenity of falling snow.  It's not the holidays, or snazzy knee-high socks, or Macy's window displays, or even the release of the next season in The Simpsons DVD collection (which is saying something).  No, it's about the food.

Winter is the one time of year when we get downright primal about our food intake, gorging on savories and sweets as though we are in a perpetual state of preparing for hibernation, and it's something that I always take full advantage of when planning my meals for even the warmest of winter weeks.  From November until March, my menu plans are full of soups, chilis, stews, (did I mention soups?) and one of my favorite non-soup meals: chicken pot pie.

There's just one problem.  The only chicken pot pies I ever had as a child were (unbeknownst to my mother) eaten at my grandmother's house, which means they came from the freezer aisle.  I have never been able to enjoy a chicken pot pie made from whole ingredients, yet I can't bring myself to purchase premade freezer pies because, come on, they're freezer pies.  I was faced with a serious conundrum: give up pot pies forever or learn to like the "real" kind.

Since I'm a stubborn little monkey, however, I wasn't able to do either and ended up having to meet myself in the middle of the road.  Inspired by a source I normally ignore, the chicken pot pie recipe that follows combines an awesome homemade crust with a shameful quantity of store bought Italian salad dressing.  I know, I know.  It sounds terrible, but it really is comfort food at its finest--once you learn to ignore your inner foodie, of course.

one hundred and twenty-three

Late post today.  The power's been out for the last six plus hours, but it's back now... Just in time for me to tell you a story about shellfish.  And ovens.  Mostly shellfish.  Spoiler alert: the story ends with a recipe.

When Mr. N and I moved to Maryland, we learned just how big crab and crab accessories truly were amongst anyone with a stomach.  While my husband loves shellfish, I am not much of a fan.  Something about the briny fishness of it all really puts me off, so I tend to pass when a well meaning individual offers up one of their famous lobster rolls or clam bakes.

Then, one day I met a man named Mike.  We met at a party where I was armed with lime cookies and he with a baguette and an awesome hot dip of some sort.  After hovering over the dish for a few hours, I cornered him and asked what I had just devoured.  When I learned that it was crab dip, I didn't know if I should gag or shrug, so I opted for the latter of the two.

When later I asked Mike for the recipe, he gave the standard answer of someone who's prepared the same dish umpteen times, "Some cream cheese, some crab, some Old Bay..."  Figuring we would be in the DC area for a while yet, I never bothered to probe the issue further; yet here I am two years later living in New Jersey.  D'oh.

After a year or so of crabby cravings, I finally gave in and made my own version.  Like Bubby's chicken soup, it's not quite as good as when Mike makes it, but it's still something I'd make again.  Who knows?  Maybe I'll send Mike my recipe and have him cook it in lieu of his own.  You know, so he can see what crab dip is supposed to taste like.

one hundred and sixteen

Monday's here, and you know what that means: the N family survived Kittenpocalypse, Shrubbery included.  The weekend was full of lots of cuddles (not all of them well received by the kittens), tons of yummy foods, and hours of playing on the floor.  Oh, and oodles photo opportunities, of course!

I so wanted to be on the ball and go back to normal kitten-free posting today, but for some odd reason, I'm up to my neck in chores that went neglected over the weekend.  I've decided that I'm going to cut myself some slack today and allow myself to the easy way out with this blog post.  You know what that means, right?

KITTEN!!! PICTURES!!!

(And for those of you who want something a little more substantial: scroll down for my "made it up as I went along" recipe for chili.  This is the Internet, though, so cute kitten pictures get top billing.  Sorry!)

Kitten high five!  (Forgive the unmade bed.)

This = our whole weekend.

Snuggling with D'ohnut.

Shrub and D'ohnut finally sharing the couch!

one hundred and eight

If you'll direct your eyes to the left sidebar on the blog (assuming you aren't using a reader), you'll see a new link: recipes!  On that page, I'll be listing and categorizing each and every recipe I post on my blog.  Please let me know If you catch a recipe that I posted on the blog and forgot to include!

Speaking of, it seems that many of the recipes are either modern reworks of classics, or are longtime family favorites courtesy of Mama or Gran.  From beef stroganoff to meatloaf to chicken pot pie, these are the sorts of recipes that give most Americans warm fuzzy memories of childhood dinners.  Note that I said "most".

I was vegetarian before that was the hip thing to do--not that I had a choice about it.  When I think back to the dinners my family ate, I remember oven baked eggplant Parmesan, barbecued tofu, and spaghetti with wheat balls.  My fairly rational mind can appreciate the fact that my parents tried to give me some semblance of traditional American foods like barbecue and spaghetti (I think I even remember tofu bacon).  Heck, I'm even grateful that they attempted to make vegetarian food taste good, rather than just serving lentil soup every day!  My not-always-rational heart, however, often feels a little bit left out when those around me start reminiscing about childhood favorites.

As soon as I was in charge of cooking for Mr. N and myself, I was prepared to dive headfirst into the world of comfort foods, but there was a problem.  Since I hadn't eaten much salt or processed foods as a child, I soon realized that simply don't like most of the recipes out there.  Even worse, many of the recipes called for Cream of Something Soup or disturbing quantities of Velveeta.  Undeterred, I realized that I would just have to do like good ol' Gran and start from scratch.  Many of my versions are merely approximations, but others (in my oh so humble opinion) are good enough to make you kick your Mom's recipes to the curb--like these meatballs.

ninety-four

I spent hours at the social security office this morning, but finally have my application all finished and whatnot.  I've been told I'll find out their decision in 3-6 months, but I'm expecting to hear that I'm super-mega-healthy and that I am capable of going out and getting a job at Wendy's.  Fortunately, it's not like we're financially dying over here, so wait I can.

To start the week off on a tasty note, I'm going to share the awesome sides that I prepared with dinner last night.  Because I'm a slacker (and because I was literally five minutes away from literally dying of hunger*), I neglected to take pictures, but I will make them again this upcoming weekend just to share the photos with you, my adoring readers.  Now that I think about it... sides aren't very photogenic, so I'm probably doing you a favor by sharing the recipes sans image.  Happy to help!

P.S. Updated the Simpsons post with yet more proof.

*srsly.  My last snack was two whole hours prior!

ninety-one

In case I haven't gotten my point across yet, I'll state once again that I'm a fan of food.  I like cooking it, I like eating it, and I like reading about it, but I don't like looking at it.  I know that the Internetz are full of people with thousand dollar cameras who love to create blogs, sites, and Pinterest boards full of pictures of cakes meant to resemble the Tibetan monks that milled the super special wheatless "flour" that went into the batter or child-pleasing plates of broccoli made into scale models of, say, Sherwood Forest.  Even the humblest of casseroles can be made to look like Manna rained down from the heavens to come to a rest on platinum-edged china.

 Don't get me wrong, I'm impressed by the work and the skill behind the photography, but the pictures certainly don't make me hungry or leave me inspired (maybe because I've learned too many food photographers' "secrets").  Usually, I just end up feeling too embarrassed to post my original recipes because I feel like the pictures aren't up to par.  Today, I was hit with the realization that, duh, this is the Internet!  This is the one place where I could say I enjoy sandwiches made of modelling clay and I wouldn't be alone.  So I've decided that I'm standing up for ugly-yet-delicious meals by sharing one of the ugliest, cheapest, easiest foods in the world...