Down With Winter, Up With Veggies!

One of my favorite things about going to the community college in my hometown was that it was right across the street from the local farmer's market. This meant that at least once a week, I would come home from school with bags of fresh veggies: tomatoes, peppers, cucumbers, green beans, squash, beets -- all manner of good, healthy stuff. Depending on what was available that day, I would pick up things I didn't even know what to do with, just to challenge myself to try something new. There is absolutely nothing like fresh, locally grown produce, sold to you by the people who grew it. I miss that. I cruised through the Oakland farmer's market a handful of times last summer, but it just wasn't the same (although I can heartily recommend the Emerald Valley Artisan Cheese stand -- no seriously, check it out). This year I would love to grow some veggies in the backyard, but as my lease is up at the end of July and I don't yet know if I'll be renewing it, I'm a little iffy on investing in a garden. I'll have to see how things go. What is for damn certain, however, is that I am craving fresh produce. Spring/summer cannot come fast enough. Winter has overstayed its welcome in this town, and I am ready to see the sun again.

Sweet Elixir of Life, How I Loathe Thee

I am suspicious of addiction in any form. Of course I will readily admit my own Internet addiction; there's no getting around that. And I have a near-compulsive need for milk that I just can't explain. But on the scale of quirky habits to life-threatening dependencies, I can live with those two. It's things like cigarettes that freak me out. Any need that is so strong as to compel people to poison themselves with known carcinogens is something I want to steer well clear of. That brings me to the topic of this post: Coffee.

I've been a coffee-drinker for years. But for most of those years, my level of consumption amounted to a cup every few days, maybe two cups if I had a project to finish. Sometimes for a month or two it would increase to a cup a day before I cut back down. And I was always a milk-and-sugar kind of girl, though I switched to milk-and-honey for a while because it seemed (marginally?) healthier.

Sometime in the past half year, however, I became your average pot-a-day black coffee drinker. Part of it, I'm sure, is that my living situation changed and I began living with heavy coffee drinkers. These days we make a pot in the morning, and between the three of us, it's gone by the time everyone disperses for the day. As I am always the last to leave, I get whatever is left. What this means is that if it's there, I will drink it. Even if I don't need it. Even if I don't want it. It's just the thing that I do, unthinkingly, robotically. This type of behavior smacks of addiction, and I don't like it. Whatever the studies say, excessive caffeine is just no good.

I don't know what my point is here, or if I even have one. It's just something that's been on my mind lately, and what is a useless little personal blog for if not whining about one's life?

Food = Life: The Utilitarian View

As has been well established in this blog, I love food. And I love eating. So when nourishing myself becomes a chore rather than a joy, I consider it a damn shame. But alas, such has been the state of things for the past few weeks. Emotional turmoil has led to a serious decrease in appetite, and it's all I can do to keep myself fed enough to get through the day. For the sake of this blog, I will try to muster up a modicum of enthusiasm for the subject. But it's been rough going, and the spark just isn't there right now.

La Comida Mexicana en La Ciudad de Acero

C is from Austin, TX, and as such, he is used to excellent, authentic Mexican food. (And yet he patronizes Taco Bell. Readers, it wounds my very soul.) So in the interest of showing me what real Mexican is like, we went to El Campesino out on McKnight Road. It was, in fact, very similar to the authentic Mexican place I am used to from my hometown, but I love that place as well so it speaks in its favor. The decor was lovely, the staff were very polite, and the food was AWESOME. C disapproved my choice of a fajita quesadilla because "it's Tex-Mex," but the heck with him, I really liked it. My thought on Mexican food is that essentially, it's the same handful of ingredients in every dish, just put together in different ways. So whereas he had to construct his fajita, mine came sort of pre-assembled. I don't care if it's authentic or not, I'll take it. And the rice was great. And I never have strong feelings about rice, so that's saying something. The queso dip that we started out with was really good, too. Also? The portions were ENORMOUS. The leftovers I have sitting in the fridge will make another two meals. Another two awesomely delicious meals. I will totally go back there again. However, I believe we are also planning to try Mexico City downtown -- follow the link for a fairly lengthy review from the City Paper. I'm excited to give it a go!

Clueless Yankee Attempts Southern Cooking

Continuing along the theme of Southern cooking that has invaded my life of late, I have a confession to make. Monday was C's birthday, so I told him I'd make him his favorite meal. He chose biscuits and gravy. Cue the slight panic -- I'm a Yankee, I don't know how to do that stuff! But you know what? It was actually really easy. I followed a recipe for buttermilk biscuits that was right on the bag of flour, and after I figured out what the hell "cutting in shortening" was, it went just fine. They actually turned out great! As a non-baker, I was very impressed with myself. Then for the gravy, I just browned some crumbled breakfast sausage in a pan, and added flour and milk. That's all there was to it. Really. Now for the confession: I actually really really liked this meal. I will probably make it again -- mostly because I know it would make C happy, but also because, well, it was delicious. But there is absolutely nothing healthy about it, so it's going to remain a once-in-a-while thing. Meanwhile, I must devise a way to get the boy to eat vegetables...

Eating Bambi: The Aftermath

Several weeks ago, I posted about receiving a bounty of venison from my uncle. We made pretty quick work of all that meat; there's only a tiny bit left. For the most part I handed it off to my Texan roommate, figuring that he would have a better idea of what to do with it than I. Here are the highlights:


Texas-Style Deer Chili

This was AMAZING. I'm actually not sure how he did it -- if I recall correctly, he just sauteed everything up in a pan and then dumped it all in the crockpot for the rest of the day. Not sure what exactly went into it, but it had the perfect amount of spice, a good even consistency, and great flavor. I was really impressed. Sprinkled with a little cheese on top, it was heaven.


Chicken Fried Deer Steaks

I'm not sure I get the whole "chicken fried thing-that-is-not-chicken" idea, but it sure turned out well. I believe he just breaded the steaks and fried them in a pan of oil. I liked them more than I expected -- and I even ate the fake mashed potatoes that he made with them because, well, I was really really hungry. And the white country gravy. I ate that too. I don't know how all this Southern food made its way into my diet, but I think I can safely blame C. But hey, he cooks -- who am I to complain?


A tangential note on this experience: I've never been a fan of hunting; the idea used to offend my squeamish hippie sensibilities. But I got to thinking that doesn't it make more sense to kill and eat something yourself rather than supporting the unarguably cruel meat industry? I'm all about being an omnivore. But I do believe that if you are going to eat meat, you need to be aware of where it's coming from and the process it goes through to get to you. Everything is so damn sanitized these days, you pick up your prepackaged cuts of meat in the safe, sterile white context of the grocery aisle. There's something not right about it. I don't know if I could kill a critter with my own hands, but I'm willing to acknowledge that death is a very real and necessary step in getting that deliciousness on the table. If C wants to shoot a turkey for Thanksgiving this year, I'm totally up for it. I might even tag along. I think it would be a good process to go through. I'm just not gonna pluck the thing.

Casa BBQ

It is spring, y'all. Maybe not officially, but close enough for me. The flowers are coming up in the backyard, my wool coat is packed away in the closet, the daylight is longer... And you know what that means? BBQ time! Last weekend the roomies and I had some friends over for delicious grilled food. We did kebabs with steak, onions, peppers, zucchini, yellow squash, and mushrooms, all marinated in Gazebo Room Greek Dressing (native to Central PA, where I'm from -- I stock up when I visit, because it's just that good). We also did "tandoori" chicken, which I'm sure was far from authentic but delicious nonetheless. I picked up a jar of tandoori marinade base at Kohli's on Craig Street, mixed it with plain yogurt, and brushed it on -- that's all there was to it. We grilled some naan to go with it. All that food plus + a case of Corona + good company + balmy weather = a great Saturday night. We're looking forward to many, many more as the weather warms up.