Domestic Tuesday/Wednesdays - Seducing Myself Wtih Yum

I initially wanted to make this recipe for my dad to thank him for installing my air conditioning unit a few weeks back, but we ended up just getting Zanko chicken instead. My dad loves turkey burgers, see, and I'm not a huge fan of them, so I thought I'd make em my damn self, so I could finally find out why he's such a fan.

My dad, photographed the first time he installed the AC unit. I've since had security bars put over my windows which meant he had to REinstall the damn thing. I love my dad.

So turkey burgers for my father wasn't meant to be, but I still had this craving for the recipe I had thrown together. Enter a friend coming over for dinner last night, and me not giving him any say in what we're eating, and then forcing my camera into his hands (thanks Dan!). I am a demanding friend, for sure. Luckily I repaid him in what was possibly (and I know I say this every damn week, but this time I SWEAR that it's the truth) the best thing I've ever made...and also with a mint It's It, which is probably the real reason he was so tolerant.

Turkey Burgers with Spicy Cole Slaw

Start by getting the burger mixture ready. You can really add anything to this, depending on what you like and what you have on hand. I used half a red onion, a handful of fresh cilantro, two cloves of garlic, one seeded jalapeno, and a few pinches of salt and pepper. You could also add some fresh spinach, green or red bell peppers, or any kind of vegetable you've got laying around about to go bad (assuming you're like me and buy produce with good intentions, but have bad follow-though).

I also unintentionally added a splash of red wine vinegar when for reasons I won't get into because it's embarrassing, but I think it helped enhance the flavor of the burgers. You could use balsamic, too.

Chop everything up by hand if you have to, or throw it in the food processor that you kiss goodnight before getting into bed, and have sweet, julienned dreams about while you sleep. Either way works

Next you're going to open a can of black beans, which means your cat is going to hear the can opener at work and will bug the shit out of you until you feed him whatever it is that's in the now-opened can.

If he's like Elvis, he's a fan of black beans and will be wholly satisfied by the few stray beans you offer him. The weirdo.

Meat. Looks gross.

Add the mixture, including about half a cup of the black beans, to the ground turkey.

It'll look totally gross.

Some people say you should do this part with your hands, but that sounds fucking horrible. No thanks.

Mixed! Set it aside and start on the cole slaw.

Half a head of purple cabbage. Normally one would take out the slicing attachment for one's food processor, but sometimes one is "lazy" and "doesn't feel like it", so she'll use the regular old blade and make something more likely to be called "cole mush" than "slaw". Tastes the same, whatever you decide.

Add a splash of orange juice.

And however much hot sauce you think you can handle. I used about two or three tablespoons, cause I'm a tough bitch.

The juice from half a lime, a handful of cilantro, salt and a ton of pepper, and a large splash of red wine vinegar (enter the happy accident that Incorporated this into the burgers) and you've got yourself one yummy fucking cole mush.

Mush in a vintage crystal bowl = klassy

Shape the burgers so they're...I dunno...burger-shaped?

This part was a mistake. I should have cooked them in a skillet or my trusty George Foreman grill. Oh well. They still tasted good, I'm just gonna have to scrub the ever-loving hell out of my grill pan once I finally get around to washing the dishes.

Shuck that shit.

The corn on the grill pan, though??? Holy fucking hell, THAT is the way to cook corn on the cob.

While you're waiting for the burgers to unstick themselves from the grill pan and the corn to brown, throw equal amounts butter and mayo into the food processor and toss a few chipotle peppers in adobe sauce in there with them. Then blend tell you're bored with blending.

Yep.

I toasted the buns and put a slice of pepper jack cheese on the burgers, along with a ton of the cole mush, and then coated the corn with the chipotle mixture.

Bitches, this was GOOOOOD. I guarantee if you make this for someone you're trying to seduce, you'll get some action (please tell me if this actually happens, cause that would be awesome).

Unfortunately, I was only trying to seduce myself last night.

It worked. I'm smitten.

Turkey burgers

1 pound ground turkey

1/2 a red onion

2 garlic cloves

1/2 a cup black beans

handful of cilantro

1 jalapeno, seeded

splash of red wine vinegar

Throw everything but the turkey into a food processor and the process it...or just chop it all up. Add it to the a bowl with the ground turkey and mix. Make patties. Cook the patties until they won't give you e coli. Throw some cheese on them or something.

Cole Mush

1/2 a head of purple cabbage

handful of fresh cilantro

splash of orange juice

a few shakes to a couple tablespoons of hot sauce

the juice from half a lime

salt and pepper

splash of red wine vinegar

Mix it all up till it looks like cole slaw.

Blog Carnival: Looking Back

This post is a part of 20SB’s Looking Back Blog Carnival, and Ben & Jerry’s is awarding free ice cream to lucky bloggers and readers (that's you)! The topic is "Looking Back", and we're to "pick a post from your first 2 months in blog-land that shows your mentality and outlook from the onset of your blog."

"I'll Build A House Inside You, I'll Go In Through The Mouth" - Wolf Parade

A little over five years ago I ran away from Los Angeles for the weekend and went to San Francisco by myself. It was a spur of the moment decision, I needed to get away and clear my head. I left about two hours after I decided to go, and called all the necessary people on the road.

I didn't know anyone in San Francisco; I hadn't been there since I was 16, and never by myself. Everything about my trip, from the long drive there, finding a cute motel and staying alone for the first time in my life, and wandering around the city, was thrilling.

One of the things from that trip that stuck in my head was a couple I saw while I was driving along the 5 freeway, headed to San Francisco. They were in a little beat-up car, with what looked like all their belongings jammed in the back seat...from all appearances it looked like they were moving.

As I passed them, I noticed they were kissing; he was driving, with one eye on the road, while she leaned over and gave him a passionate, intimate kiss. I know this is silly and romantic of me, but I still think about them once in a while, and I hope that they're still together and happy. A couple months later I met C...a couple years after that we moved to San Francisco.

I picked up a rented minivan today. I'm going to pack all my earthly possessions in it tonight, and tomorrow I'm going to leave behind a five year relationship with the most intelligent, interesting person I know.


Originally posted April 11th, 2007

Really Well

This is the last thing I post on the subject of my maybe/sorta/I really don't think so "alcoholishness". I promise. I had a beer over the weekend. I felt fine about it. The AA meetings have been great, and very helpful, and I plan to keep going every-so-often...but. But I don't think I'm an alcoholic, and I feel like I'm lying to these people by going to these meetings even when I know I'm going to drink in the future...when I know I can handle it.

I think I fell into a shitty pattern when it came to drinking recently. I think I'm a little lonely and a good excuse to get out of the house and have some company is by grabbing a drink. The past two weeks of not drinking have been really good, and I plan on sticking with the changes I've made. But I'm not an alcoholic, it's as simple as that.

I think turning 29 freaked me out more than I expected it to, and I suspect that has a lot to do with my booze freak-out. But I sipped a beer with a friend on Saturday afternoon, a cold Belgium ale in a frosty glass, and then went home and took a nap. And that was it. And I remembered that I do that a lot more often than I try to keep up with my (much larger) friends at a dive bar and end up hungover as fuck the next day. I'm a small girl. Two beers are a lot for me, really.

So that's that , it seems. I don't need booze, but it does help me with that whole social anxiety issue. But I went on a date yesterday, and without the aid of alcohol or Xanax (just a ton of coffee) it went well...really well, actually. Really "I'm looking forward to seeing him again and even though I was super nervous I didn't make a fool out of myself" well. So that's good.

Sipping on gin and juice (minus the gin)*

*photo by Jonah Ray

Father - Daughter

When I was three years old, I smashed the edge of a plate into my face, right below my eyebrow. I had to be tied down with restraints so a doctor could stitch up the gash – ten stitches in all. I remember everything about that night aside from the drive to the hospital.

I still have a scar; a tiny slash that’s barely noticeable. My dad still apologizes to me, his voice laden with guilt and sincerity, twenty five years later. He had yelled at us, me and my two older siblings, to hurry to the table for dinner, you see. We were all terrified of my father’s yelling, so we obeyed in a hurry, and in the process of climbing into my booster seat, my arm tipped the edge of my plate, causing the opposite end to whack me right in the face. My father has never forgiven himself for this.

…

I was 14 years old and in the midst of an all-out rebellious stage. I had a curfew that was put into use almost as infrequently as my conscience was. After my older sister and her boyfriend dropped me off at the bowling alley (a popular hang-out back then), someone stuck a tab of acid on my tongue, and my night began.

A couple hours later, the night began for my family, as well. Me not coming home, without a phone call notifying them to this fact, they were left to worry. As I wandered around University Park with a band of flight jacket, Doc Martined, mohawked friends, laughing as the trees morphed into characters straight out of a cartoon, my parents called the police to report me missing. When I finally collapsed in a tired heap on the bedroom floor of one of the aforementioned friends, in a pile of equally nefarious teenagers and whatever blankets we could quietly scavenge from the linen closet at three in the morning, my family sat awake across town, sure that my lifeless body had been tossed into a ditch somewhere, left to rot.

When I finally came home the next morning, and I had been sent to my room to be dealt with later, my room entertained me from my cozy bed as it danced in and out of focus, my tired and drugged eyes having a kaleidoscope affect on everything I saw. My brother told me later that day that he had heard my father weeping in his bedroom throughout the night, praying to God that I was alright. Offering himself in return for my safe return. I’ve never stopped imagining him that way. I’ve never forgiven myself for putting him through that.

…

Domestic Tuesdays or Wednesdays - Crab Cakes Gonna Hate

Last Friday night I had some friends over for dinner. Having recently had two different friends move into my building, I thought it would be fun for all of us to get together, Friends-style. Ben's lovely girlfriend Kate and I decided to make crab cakes, and the dudes (Ben and my fake boyfriend Jonah) hung out while we cooked.

I found the perfect recipe on Tastespotting (which is my all-time favorite food-centric website), and although there are a ton of steps and ingredients (something I usually shy away from), it was actually a very easy to follow recipe, especially with two people cooking (and if two people can make this in my TINY kitchen and not want to kill each other by the end of the night, anyone can make this).

Aside from the crab cakes, there was a sauce to make, and a avocado mixture, which seems like a daunting amount of tasks, but let me tell you right now, this is one of the BEST things I've ever eaten. Seriously. I would make this again in a heartbeat. I also made a butter lettuce salad, which I normally wouldn't bother telling you about, but the dressing I made for it knocked my socks off, so you'll find the recipe for that below as well. Enjoy!

Chipotle Spiced Crab Cakes with Tomatillo-Avocado Sauce

First things first: I threw a bulb of garlic in the oven (slice the top off, drizzle with olive oil, sprinkle with pepper, and wrap in tin foil) for about 45 minutes, which I put out with a baguette and the yummy brie that Jonah brought. I could survive off this alone for the rest of my days. So yummy.

Now onto the crab cakes.

We started with three cans of crab meat, bought from Trader Joe's. I know you could and probably should buy better, more expensive crab meat, but I'm on a budget and this stuff worked just fine. Plus my friends aren't too picky, luckily.

This was my first time working with chipotle peppers, although I've always been curious about them. They gave the crab cakes a really nice smokey flavor, and added and interesting flavor that you don't get in normal crab cakes. Yum!

Don't kill me for bringing this up yet again, but this recipe was so simple mainly because my food processor made short work of each step. I know I've gone on and on about my little beast of a machine, but seriously, IT'S THE BEST FUCKING THING IN THE WORLD!!! *ahem* Moving on. To the chipotle pepper, I added red pepper, a shallot, lime juice, cilantro and salt and pulverized that shite.

Next we added two eggs (for binding purposes), mayonnaise, and the drained cans of crab meat, and gave that a quick whirl just to combine.

Transfer the mixture to a bowl.

Add 2 to 2 1/2 cups of Panko bread crumbs.

And voila!

The boys, hanging out and get hungrier and crankier.

The crab cake mixture needed to hang out in the fridge for a bit before they could be cooked, so we formed them into small patties and placed them on a cookie sheet.

My slip was showing the entire night ,fyi. Nobody told me.

Maybe it's cause they were JEALOUS that I was drinking non alcoholic beer and they weren't. Haters gonna hate.

While the crab cakes chilled the eff out in the fridge, we got started on the tomatillo sauce. Two jalapenos with the seeds and ribs removed (don't touch your junk or eyeballs after handling jalapenos, dummy!), a shallot, and two cloves of garlic are chopped and added to the tomatillos.

Have you ever cooked with tomatillos? I hadn't, although I've always wanted to because they're adorable. Just give them a rough chop and throw them in a frying pan with a tablespoon of olive oil and the jalapeno mixture.

You'll leave that to soften over medium heat for about 12-15 minutes.

"Hey Jonah, why don't you do the dishes???!"

"Oh that's right, I forgot: you're not my real boyfriend so you don't have to do what I say." *

*to be fair, he did bring me pretty flowers

Our pretty chef takes a much needed break with her real boyfriend (whom also didn't do the dishes).

After heating about two tablespoons of oil over medium heat, I added the crab cakes to the pan.

While they cooked, I made the salad dressing:

-2 cloves of garlic

-the juice from one whole lemon

-1 teaspoon Dijon mustard

-1/2 teaspoon lemon zest

-1 tablespoon honey

-fresh cracked pepper to taste

-about 1/2 cup extra virgin olive oil

Throw this all crap into your trusty food processor and blend away, then pour it over butter lettuce and throw in some croutons for good measure. I am SO not a salad kind of girl, but this shit blew my very mind.

Once the tomatillo sauce is pretty much done, you should be able to smush the remaining chunks with the back of the spoon, making a smoother sauce, but don't worry if it's a little chunky. I forgot to take photos of this part, but you also want to separately chop two or three ripe avocados into small cubes and add two tablespoons freshly squeezed lime juice and two tablespoons finely chopped cilantro.

Once the crab cakes are ready, plate everything separately. If you're cooking the crab cakes in batches like we did, you can preheat your oven to about 200 and put the finished batch in to keep warm while you cook the second batch.

We've added guests (hi Nikki!) and they are fuggin HUNGRY.

Luckily dinner is finally ready!

So yum.

Aside from a couple modifications (like the fact that I forgot to buy celery and used shallots instead of an onion), you can find the recipe I used here: mygourmetconnection recipes

What It Is

It's nice waking up and knowing that your grogginess and sleepiness is not due to a hangover, and that your entire day isn't going to be spent basking in depression and regret.

It's nice to have friends over for dinner on Friday night, and then go to bed early and sober, instead of drinking at a bar and taking the risk of getting a DUI or worse.

It's nice knowing that I'm not ever going to hurt myself or someone else because of my inability to know when I've had too much, and shouldn't be driving. That's one of my biggest fears.

It hurts me to know that there are people who were once part of my life, who never got the chance to decide otherwise.

It's nice to finally recognize my shortcomings, and know there is something I can do about it.

It's scary to think about how bad it could have gotten...to hear stories from people for whom it did get that bad, and to know that I'm just lucky, not different.

It's wonderful and terrifying to share your faults as a human to a roomful of strangers, and to have those strangers come up to you afterwards and to realize that they genuinely care.

It's heart wrenching and overwhelmingly fulfilling to actually care back.

I'm so incredibly grateful for the change that's happening in my life. It's scary and overwhelming and, quite frankly, straight out weird, but I know that I'm already a better person because of it.

So Far

I went to three AA meetings over the weekend. It's been a confusing three days, but probably a few of the best I've had in recent months, as far as peace of mind and general happiness goes. Thank you so much to all your lovely comments and encouragement. I value all of your opinions, even if we've never met before.

So here's what I've deduced by going to the meetings, speaking to concerned friends, and through deep soul searching: I'm not an alcoholic. I will become an alcoholic if I continue drinking the way I have been. It's not just the drinking that I have a problem with, it's the patterns I've finally recognized as problematic. I look forward to drinking more than most. I look forward to that feeling I get after a couple drinks and think about that feeling a lot. I drink because it makes me feel at ease around people, and confident in myself, but the underlying issues of not being comfortable around people and with myself isn't be addressed. I can't have just one drink. I can't. I don't.

Drinking has become a focal point in my life, and it wasn't until I considered stopping that I realized this. More than anything though, I haven't gone without a drink for more than a few days in at least two years, if not way, way more. It frightens me that for as much as I want to improve my depression, which is something that's always been a constant in my life, I've never once considered that perhaps I should stop drinking, despite the fact that I KNOW that alcohol is a depressant. I'm startled that this didn't cross my mind, and to me it hints at an underlying problem with being dependent on booze.

At the meetings I went to over the weekend, I met so many wonderful people. I walked in just as nervous as I am whenever I walk into a new place, but I was met with kindness and an inherent understanding of that nervousness. This isn't easy, don't get me wrong. I'm scared and confused by all this and am not really sure where it's going, but for now I know that nothing bad is going to come out of me staying sober and taking what I can from these meetings.

This doesn't need to be a "forever" thing, but I do need to change my thinking patterns. I want to be the happiest and healthiest person I can be. I want what the speakers at the meetings have; clear heads and confidence even in their weakest moments in life. I don't want to wake up with hangovers and the crippling depression that accompanies them. I want persistence and determination which bring opportunities and challenges. I want a meaningful relationship with a worthwhile dude, and I want to feel like I've earned that.

As I lay in bed on Friday night, reading from a book about sobriety and feeling overwhelmed with hopefulness and determination, and more than a little bit of fear, I got a call from my big brother. They're pregnant, he and his fiance. I'm going to be an auntie. My life has suddenly gotten a surprising dose of overwhelming joy, for so many reasons.

Alcoholish

I can see now that she's been subtly pointing me towards this realization since I first came to see her two months ago. She's been laying down little hints and asking me probing questions that I blow off or pave over with excuses, unconsciously trying to point her towards my childhood traumas and incessant worrying as a cause for my insomnia and depression. She must have known that she was implanting the idea in my head, and that when I was ready to see it, I'd mention it. Well I guess I'm ready to see it, because last night I finally brought up the idea of my maybe...possibly...drinking problem with my therapist.

It's such a difficult thing to admit to myself, because while I don't have the symptoms associated with the kind of person one would point to and definitively label an "alcoholic", drinking has become something I "just do"...something that's as regular and commonplace to me as eating is in my life. I'm embarrassed to admit that only in the past week has it dawned on me that it might be something that needs more fixing than simply not drinking for the rest of the week/month/whatever.

I'm starting to realize that booze has become something I rely on to be social, to be fun, to be myself. For as much of a level headed person as I am, for as many times ways as I've tried to improve my insomnia and depression through working out regularly, eating healthy, trying new medications, the thought that perhaps I need to try life without alcohol has never even crossed my mind. I figured that this was just because I didn't have a problem, but suddenly I realize that not realizing it might be a problem in itself.

Tonight I'm going to an AA meeting with a close friend. I'm grappling with the word "alcoholic" because I'm not really sure that's what I am. All signs though; heredity, history, habits, personality, point to the fact that I might just be. I haven't been to one of these meetings since I was an unruly and rebellious 14 year old, and was forced to attend lest I wind up in Juvenile Hall or worse...but that's a story for another time. For now I'm just looking forward to proving to myself that I still have the courage to change the things I can, just as I did 15 years ago.

Things I Want to Do Before I'm 30 Interspersed with Photos from My Birthday Party

Attempt to run a half marathon

• Record and submit my Israel piece to This American Life
  
• Take the test to see if I qualify to give bone marrow

• Order the chef's tasting menu at a fancy restaurant
  
• Train myself to enjoy Bloody Mary's
  
• Volunteer somewhere worthwhile

• Make out with someone on the Haunted Mansion ride at Disneyland
  
• Licence to punch someone in the face if they deserve it

• Go down a waterslide

• Visit the Magic Castle

• Take an improv class

• Try uni

• Visit an abandoned place

• Go camping

• Go to a drive-in movie

• Give blood
  


• Bake a layered cake


• Swim in clear ocean water

• Go on a vacation outside California

• Get a short story published

Tell me...what's something you want to do before you next birthday?

Thanks to Jonah for all the great photos!

Blatherings

This past week, in a fit of post Mercury in Retrograde induced productivity, I finished a couple short stories I had been working on for, well, for an embarrassingly long time. Not knowing what to do with them once I was satisfied that they were truly complete, I sent one, the more "fictitious" of the two, off to a couple contests and literary journals.

The other, which is pretty much non-fiction, aside from a couple small details, I sent to Alex over at This Recording to see if he would maybe like to post it. I've had great feedback with other personal essays I've posted there, and Alex has always been sweet when it comes to the random blatherings I turn in as "writing".

Anyway, if you'd like to read it, you can find it here:
In Which she Had Made Up Her Mind

Moving on. This Monday I will be 29 years old. I've taken the day off work and plan on enjoying the day alone, reflecting on my thoughts and reading the fuck out of this book, which is currently rocking my world.

So far, I'm not too concerned with being *this* close to 30, but we'll see how I feel when I wake up on Monday morning. The reality is, though, my life is pretty wonderful at the moment, so I have nothing to complain about when it comes to getting another year to enjoy. It is weird to be entering the very last year of my 20's, but when I look back at how wonderful this past decade has been, and even how much I've learned and grown from the decidedly shitty parts of it, I can't say that I'm not looking forward to taking all that knowledge and applying it towards the next ten years.

I have decided that the next year should be a exciting one, though, as I feel I owe it to myself to end my 20's with a bang, so expect a list of "things to do before I'm 30" next week. Hint: punching someone in the face is on that list.


Until then, have a lovely weekend, kittens!

Cheers!

Photos by my sister, Leah

Domestic Tuesdays - *this*, *this*, and *this*

You guys...YOU GUYS!!! Okay, I know I'm a day late on Domestic Tuesdays yet again, but how about since I actually MADE today's post ON Tuesday, you give me a break? No? Okay, how about since I'm about to give you the BEST fucking recipe I've ever made in my very life, you give me that break? Yes? No? Well you really don't have much of a say in it, so here we go!

Something that's always eluded me when it comes to cooking, a something which just happens to be how I, personally, detect between functional cooks and really good cooks, is being able to throw something together with ingredients that aren't listed on a recipe. My mom and sister can do it, a few choice friends can too, but I'm just now getting the hang of opening the fridge, looking in the cupboards, and deciding to throw *this*, *this*, and *this* together and ending up with something surprisingly delicious...hell, I'll even settle for "pretty damn good".

Perhaps it's that my confidence level is building, but I think it has more to do with my level of understanding growing when it comes to cooking and flavors. So last night, after skipping the gym (shhhh, don't tell my thighs!), I plucked one of the many recipes I have on file and made my way to my local ethnic market to pick up supplies for dinner.

All I needed from the store were three things to add to what I already had in the fridge : a head of red cabbage, an onion, and two ears of corn. Those three ingredients, coupled with sausage and some flavorings, were all the recipe I had chosen called for. But as I looked around the produce section of the market, which always astonishes and excites me by its incredible variety and laughably low prices, I figured "what the hell?", and from there, I started adding to my cart. What came out was undeniably the best meal I've ever made.

Sausage with a Ton of Stuff

Cabbage is one of my favorite foods (with brussel sprouts being my most consumed and loved dish), and this recipe called for half a head of red cabbage, thinly sliced.

Enter my trusty food processor, which you're probably getting sick of hearing about by now, but since I have no actual boyfriend to make you nauseous with love stories about, you'll have to endure my fawning over this lovely fellow for the time being.

After attaching the shredding blade...okay fine, after attaching the shredding blade and following about ten minutes of me trying to figure out how the damn shredding blade works, the FP made short work of both the cabbage and a giant purple onion with minimal eye watering and painful eye burn on my part. Score!

One of my additions was collard greens, which I had never cooked with before. I pulled a few large leaves from the bunch, and cut around the large white stem, as I had seen done on the Food Network so many times before. Not only were the collard greens a really delicious addition, they're insanely nutritious, and I'm glad I ventured out of my comfort zone and gave them a shot.

After discarding the stem, I rolled the leaves up and roughly chopped em.

Another of my additions were mushrooms, a food which I'm still honing my enjoyment of, after a lifetime of abject hatred for. They ended up being a wonderful addition, and I wish I had added more.

Honestly, by the time I was finished with the vegetable mixture, this meal barely needed the sausage (that's what she said! zing!). With the sausage though, this dish was fucking MADE. Add any type of sausage you'd like...I just happened to have this apple, chardonnay chicken crap, which went perfectly because of the sweetness of the apples.

While the sausage browns in a pan that is way too tiny, but you had already put the olive oil in the pan and didn't want to dirty another dish so you just chopped the sausages in half and jammed them in there, or whatever, add the cabbage and onion into a pan with a tablespoon of oil and let it cook for about five minutes.

Next I added the collard greens and a fourth a cup of balsamic vinegar (which I fucking love so much I could bathe in).

Followed by the mushrooms and corn from two ears, which I had sliced the kernels off of, creating a huge mess. I let that shit hang out for about three minutes to soften.

Deciding I needed something else, I grabbed a can of white beans from my "cupboard" (which is really just a big white bookcase that the girl who lived in my apartment had left behind which I dragged into the kitchen and stuck a book of matches under the side that wobbled). I rinsed and drained the beans, to get all the sodium-laden juice off them...ew.

Note to the anonymous commenter from last week who was irate and admonished me for sometimes buying canned beans from the 99 Cents Only store: fuck off

I served this with a yam which I had pierced several times with a fork after scrubbing, and stuck in the oven at 400 degrees for about 40 minutes (buy thinner yams so they'll cook faster). With the yams, I stuck a bulb of garlic in the oven that I had sliced the top off of, drizzled with olive oil and black pepper, and covered in tin foil in until it was all mushy and perfect. Then I stuck a few cloves onto a baguette.

Everything about this meal was fucking perfect, and I can't wait to eat the leftovers for lunch today. What would you have added?

Sausage with a bunch of stuff

adapted from Real Simple

2 tablespoons olive oil
4-8 Italian sausages
1/2 small head red cabbage, thinly sliced (about 6 cups)
1 large onion, thinly sliced

3-5 large collard greens leaves with stems removed (or any sort of leafy green)
1/4 cup balsamic vinegar

1/2 pound mushrooms
1 cup corn kernels (from 2 ears or frozen and thawed)

1 can white beans, rinsed and drained
kosher salt and pepper

Heat 1 tablespoon of the oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat. Prick the sausages with a fork and cook, turning occasionally, until browned, 10 to 12 minutes. Transfer to plates.

Heat the remaining tablespoon of oil in the skillet over medium heat. Add the cabbage and onion and cook, stirring occasionally, for 5 minutes. Add the vinegar, greens, and mushrooms, and cook, stirring occasionally, until the cabbage is just tender, 3 to 4 minutes.

Stir in the corn and white beans, 1/2 teaspoon salt, and 1/2 teaspoon pepper. Serve with the sausage.

Photo Essay

I stumbled upon this lovely Swedish girl's blog yesterday via A Cup of Jo (a girl who is responsible for my new found love and understanding of suspenders), and loved this photo post she did, so I'm copying it with all respect to Miss Emilie. You should do one too, and let me know so I can link your post at the bottom of this one, okay?

a picture of one of the best times of your life

a picture of you with someone you love

(w/ my dad)

a picture you miiiiiight have edited to make yourself more attractive

(to be fair, my sister took and edited this photo...but yeah, my skin doesn't really look that good normally)

the youngest picture you can find of yourself in digital form

(I'm the baby)

a picture of a time in your life that’s over, but you wish it wasn’t

(try as I might, I can't think of a time that doesn't belong in the past...I guess that's pretty healthy, no?)

a picture of you showing off a new haircut/color

(It's a wig. Trust me, after one epically failed blond attempt, I would never go there again.)

a picture of you truly being yourself

a picture of how you’d like the world to see you

(photo by my sister)

a picture of you being ridiculous

(photo by my sister from The McNugginiti shoot)


a picture of you when you were anything but happy

Summer of 2007

a picture of you that you had no idea was being taken

(by Jonah Ray, from the Grilled Cheese Competition)

a picture of you making a goofy face at the camera

(I was a weird kid)

a picture of you drunk

a picture of you when you were a different person than you are now

(with my then-boyfriend's daughter, the beautiful Audrey)

a picture of you on your birthday

(photo by Joel, June 2008)

a picture that describes how you’d like to spend every day

(photo by my sister, from the yet-to-be-released Ham Drank photo shoot)

Untarnished

It's been a long time since I've had my heart broken. I've been let down, sure, disappointed and even hurt in a few instances since I started dating again two years ago...but even then I felt in control of the situation. I wonder about my capacity to love someone new sometimes. I feel very strongly that it would take a lot to break my heart at this point in my life - I mean truly break it in that wretchedly painful, all encompassing way that you don't realize exists until it happens to you for the first time. The kind that hurts so bad but is somewhat comforting because it lets you know that you are human, that you are capable of love.

A friend of mine has been going through that recently, and it's been hard for me to relate. I've realized I blocked out that sensation, those terrible memories of the time you felt like your world was literally crumbling. If I really think about it though, I can conjure up those emotions, but it leaves me with a hollow and empty feeling, so I try to sympathize with this friend from a neutral point of view as best I can. But when you attempt to do that, you're left with shitty sentiments like "just don't think about it" and "you'll find someone new", which everyone knows does the exact opposite of what's intended. So instead we drink, and I point out attractive people, but we always end up talking about the past.

The past is such a dick sometimes, the way it sneaks up to bite you on the ass. I think about my past way to much. Some stupid little insignificant thing I said or did years ago will suddenly pop into my head and I'll literally grimace at the thought of it. Maybe it's because I'm overly sentimental.

I don't know where I'm going with this. I'm utterly single right now. No prospects on the horizon, no potential broken hearts and none in the recent past...I can't say that I mind it very much. My therapist/astrologer says that June will be a good month for me, love-wise. I don't necessarily believe in astrology, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little excited. I'll be 29 in less than two weeks. I'm starting it with a clean slate, an untarnished heart, an open mind, and a big party.

Domestic Tuesday - Crispy Black Bean Cakes

The list of things I miss about living in San Francisco is short, and mainly consists of food and drinks, and people I miss eating and drinking with:

• Happy hour at Hog Island with Becky for dollar oysters and two dollar beers
• Rosamunde with Chad for weisswurst sausage w/ chili (oh my god, their chili) and taking them "to go next door" to Toronado and ordering a beer I'd never heard of (and also sneaking next door to the pizza place to steal a plastic knife)
• My dear, sweet Zeitgeist for pints of Racer 5 while jealously eyeing everyone else's bloody mary's (I loathe tomato juice), and imbibing in their "I don't want to know where this meat comes from" delicious burgers

My favorite breakfast in the city, actually most people's favorite breakfast in the city as evidence by the hours-long line every weekend, was at Dottie's True Blue Cafe on Jones. Anything you ordered was sure to be to-die-for, and made the long wait so worth it. My favorite thing on the menu was the black bean cakes and eggs, and I would break down and order it every time, even though pancakes or french toast would be what I had been in the mood for...they were just that good.

So when I found a recipe for crispy black bean cakes in an issue of Food and Wine magazine that sounded very much like the ones I knew and loved from Dottie's, I knew I had to give it a try. But instead of making these for breakfast, I decided instead to make smaller cakes, and turn it into an appetizer for the season finale of Lost pot luck. I tweaked the recipe a little, and they were a huge hit.

I've already sung the praises of my new food processor, and this recipe was MADE for this fine piece of machinery. It's not necessary, of course, but with it, this is seriously one of the easiest things I've ever made.

Ya know my eyeball's penchant for getting all hurty and stingy whenever an onion so much as gets a paper cut in my general vicinity? Well the food processor takes care of that (almost completely). Yay!

They should bottle this scent and sell it as cologne. Yum.

One can is from the 99 Cents Only store, the other is from my local ethnic food store. Deal with it.

Rinse the beans off to avoid over saltiness and add one can to the food processor and puree.

If your cat is weird like mine and will eat anything (seriously, he LOVES artichokes) feed him a couple beans.

Add the other can of whole beans to the pureed garlic/onion/bean mix and stir.

This is where I added my own crap. The green chili's just happened to be hanging out in my fridge, leftover from a cornbread I had made, and they went really well in this dish. I also added a few shakes of hot sauce (Tapitio, in this case) which I highly recommend.

This is either the nasty part, if you're like me and hate using your bare fingers when cooking (food under my nails = PUKE), or the fun part, if you're a total freak. I made golf ball size balls (heh...balls) out of the mix and flattened them out just a bit. Then you coat them in the flour, dip them in the egg, followed by a coat of the breadcrumbs...then you wash your hands cause your fingers are coated in egg, flour and bread crumbs and it feel reeeeally gross.

Next, throw em in some sizzling vegetable oil, flipping them when they brown on one side.

Seriously, these are fucking goooood. Top with guacamole and sour cream, or whatever the hell you want (hummus? mango salsa? something else that I can't think of right now?)


My Lost Pot Luck friends adored these little fuckers. Ben, the hardest man alive to please, voted them even-better than Jonah's yummy ahi tuna.


The ahi was pretty damn good, too.

I may have bribed him, though.

Naw, they were really that good.

Recipe:
Cripsy Black Bean Cakes
Adapted from Food and Wine Magazine

Ingredients
2 tablespoons vegetable oil, plus more for frying
1 small onion, cut into 1/4-inch dice
1 large garlic clove, minced
3/4 teaspoon ground cumin
1/4 teaspoon cayenne
few dashes hot sauce
Two 15-ounce cans black beans, drained
Two tablespoons diced green chili
1 1/4 cups plain dry bread crumbs
Kosher salt and freshly ground pepper
1/3 cup all-purpose flour
2 large eggs, beaten

Directions
-In a medium skillet, heat the 2 tablespoons of vegetable oil. Add the onion and garlic and cook over moderate heat just until softened, about 3 minutes. Add the cumin and cayenne and cook until fragrant, about 1 minute. Scrape the onion mixture into the bowl of a food processor. Add 1 1/2 cups of the beans and pulse until the mixture is finely chopped but not smooth. Scrape the mixture into a medium bowl. Mix in the remaining whole beans and 1/2 cup of the bread crumbs, the hot sauce, and the green chili, and season with salt and pepper. Form the mixture into desired size.
-Put the flour, beaten eggs and the remaining 3/4 cup of bread crumbs into 3 shallow bowls. Dust each black bean cake with the flour, tapping off the excess. Dip the cakes in the egg and then in the bread crumbs, pressing so that the bread crumbs adhere.
-In a very large skillet, heat 1/8 inch of oil until shimmering. Add the cakes and fry over moderate heat until golden brown, about 2 minutes per side. Drain on paper towels.

Favorite Family Stories

-The only reason my dad got out of fighting in the Vietnam War was because he had the ability to crack four eggs at once. You see, he was enlisted in the Army Reserve, which exempted him from being called to duty in Vietnam because it wasn't an "active" war (really, a PR move on the administrations part more anything), but in order to skirt around that rule, President Johnson disbanded a bunch of Army Reserve units in California and told the recruits that if they weren't able to find a spot in another unit, they'd be called into active duty. Long story.

Obviously, the other units were very full and taking very few new recruits (which was the point). My dad happened to know a guy who was a cook in an Air Force Reserve unit in Riverside. They needed another cook, and my dad got a chance to try out for the spot. As my dad tells it, the head cook was a huge, intimidating dude, but when my dad showed him that he could crack two eggs in each hand at once (learned from years of being a short-order cook), the head cook brightened up and offered my dad the position right away, thus saving my father from fighting in a dirty war.

-My grandfather George, a strikingly handsome immigrant from Eastern Europe, fell in love with his best friend's sister - my grandmother Thelma, a petite and adorable girl of the same origins. When my grandmother's family, along with my teenaged grandma, moved from Cleveland to Los Angeles during the Depression, George followed - determined to marry my grandma. She wasn't interested though, and George spent a good couple years living in the den of my maternal family's house, watching as Thelma went on dates and ignored the letters he would write to her, professing his love. Finally she relented, though. He died before I was born. Thelma is 98 now, and still has those letters he wrote to her in Yiddish, tucked away in her closet.

-My father's uncle, Murray, grew up in Chicago. An immigrant, he was very poor as it was the height of the Great Depression, and the story was, he would always swear that when he was rich someday, he would eat cake for breakfast every morning. He ran away from home at 17 and joined the Youth Conservation Corps, building bridges and roads across the country. He fought in the Philippians during WWII as a Master Sargent. When he came home, he did well in construction, and bought a trailer-park retirement center when he finally retired. I visited his home in the desert when I was a kid. I snuck a peek into the fridge, and remember seeing a cake on the top shelf, halfway gone. He ate cake for breakfast every morning until the day he died.

What is your favorite family story?

Domestic Tuesday - Guest Domestic of the Vegan Persuasion

Oh hai. Just wondering, can we just pretend that the title "Domestic Tuesday" is more of a suggestion than an actual scheduled thing? I mean, the "domestic" part is fine, it's just the whole "Tuesday" concept that sometime alludes me. I'll try to be more punctual from now on. Promise.

Secondly, all the photos I took for this entry are stuck on my camera, as I had forgotten to put the memory card in, and can't seem to upload the software to get them off. So aside from the three photos sent to me by the guest domestic, I'm going to include photos of her which I have pillaged off her Flickr captioned by reasons why she is awesome, in lieu of cooking photos. Cool? No? I don't care.

Domestic Tuesday - Guest Domestic of the Vegan Persuasion

Hey look! I got someone else to not only make me dinner, but to also write a blog post about it! Man, am I lazy or what??? Actually, I chose my friend Meghan ("Judy Gloom", to those of you knowledgeable of roller derby) to be the "Guest" in this edition of "Guest Domestic" because, not only is she an awesome cook, she's also a kick ass writer, as you can see for yourself at her blog, The Hollywood Librarian.

I also chose Meg because she is an undeniably healthy person (one the inspirations behind my recent interest in getting in shape) but she also adores food and has a healthy attitude towards eating, which I've found to be a rare thing with women, sadly. So I asked her to create her favorite vegan dish for me, knowing full well that it would closely resemble the awesome seitan dish she made for me a while back. I don't think I would ever have given seitan a second glace (except perhaps a dirty look) had I not tried Meghan's version. This is some seriously yummy stuff, so don't be afraid to give it a shot, even if you're a gluttonous carnivore, like myself. Alright, I'll shut up now and let her take over.

Our Domestic - Miss Judy Gloom

Most of the time when I tell people that I'm a pescetarian, I receive puzzled looks in response. So, the longer story behind my dietary restrictions is that I was a vegetarian for 10 years until I reincorporated fish into my diet about four years ago (a person who eats fish, but not red meat or poultry = pesceterian). Up until recently, I was a "restaurant pesceterian," but lately, I've been trying to cook occasionally with fish at home. My invitation to guestblog here came as a result of the Ahi tuna tacos I made for a post-gym dinner a few weeks ago.

Meghan rides her bike all over the place, including, but not limited to: Hollywood, greater Los Angeles, through European cities during rainstorms, to my house when I promise to drive.

All of that said, old habits die hard. Most of my favorite, tried and true recipes are vegan. So, when Georgia asked me to blog here, I decided to go Meghan Classic and whip up some Jerk Seitan, which is always a big hit among the omnivores (seitan = a high-protein, vegetarian "wheat meat"). I've tried a few different jerk marinade recipes, and this one is my fave.

She indulges, encourages, and fully participates in my penchant for drinking and being silly.

The secret is the sauce, so really, you could use any protein you want here -- I've done it with tofu, and I imagine it would be good with shrimp. And of course, there's always chicken, which is the traditional vehicle for this killer Caribbean marinade.

She has killer fashion sense. See that grey dress she's wearing in the above photo? The next day I went out and bought it (it's this dress, and it's the most flattering thing I've ever worn), and now we have to check up with each other every time we go out together if one of us wants to wear it, to make sure the other isn't. She's only slightly irritated by this, which is sweet.

For this occasion, I made my own seitan. It's a little more time-consuming, but worth it. The quality is far superior to the store-bought stuff, it's much less expensive, and this recipe (my favorite!) yields a ton. I wind up freezing about 2/3 of it for later use.

I went with Meghan to a clothing swap a couple weeks ago, and ended up leaving with pretty much everything she brought. Like I said, girl's got style.

This recipe requires a food processor. I believe Georgia recently wrote about her love affair with a new Cuisinart. I don't know what I'd do without mine.

See that red-haired girl on the far left? That's Meghan. See that dude giving the middle finger? That's Anthony fucking Bordain, with whom she ate dinner and then ended up in his book (along with this lovely blogger). Yeah, she wins at life.

Jamaican Jerk Marinade (from one of my favorite cookbooks, the Native Foods Restaurant Cookbook)

2 c chopped green onion
1 c apple cider vinegar
1 c soy sauce
1/4 c safflower or sunflower oil
3 garlic cloves
1 jalapeno pepper (sliced, seeds and all)
1 1/2 tsp allspice
1 tsp nutmeg
1 tsp cinnamon

Place all ingredients in a food processor and puree. This recipe will yield about 2 1/2 cups, which is way more than you'll need for a 3-4 person dinner. Feel free to halve the recipe, or do what I do and freeze the remaining sauce. I usually get three meals (serving 3-4 people each) from one batch of this sauce.

Did I mention that she's also a Librarian??? It's true.

Let your protein soak in the marinade for about an hour before serving. Heat some oil in a frying pan and brown your meat, adding additional sauce as desired.

Like I said before, she's an awesome cook.

I served this with coconut rice (prepare basmati or jasmine rice as you normally would, but throw in a cup of coconut milk and a few slices of fresh ginger. Toss with pineapple, fresh cilantro and toasted coconut). I also served with baked sweet potatoes. Just scrub em down, stab each a couple of times with a fork, and bake at 400 for about an hour. Sweet potatoes are so good for you...though my doctor remarked during a recent office visit that over-consumption of beta carotene is turning my hands orange. No shit.

Words fail the photo above (that's Meggy in red). But I can say she is the most sensitive tough-guy I've ever met.
photo via Charlie Chu

Drizzle everything with a bit of the cooked marinade and serve!

Thank you, Meghan! It was a truly delicious dinner, despite the fact that you insisted you marinated the seitan too long (you didn't, it was great). The only reason I didn't eat more, is because I had eaten buffalo wings at Big Wangs a couple hours earlier, and didn't want to tell you because I was scared I'd hurt your feelings. Eep!!!

Edited to add food photos!!!

Randoms - Faff Edition

In honor of the lovely Hillary at Two L's Please, and the sweet post she wrote about me and my humble little place in the bloggy world, I'm going to take a page from her book and do a Friday Faff - Thursday Edition, meaning the following post are some odds and ends currently taking up space in my brain.

I started this blog a little over two years ago. I know it probably gets annoying, but it's hard not to compare your life in a before and after kind of way when you've had some sort of big change. For me, that change was leaving my boyfriend of five years as well as his daughter whom I loved, and moving from San Francisco, back to Los Angeles. I started this blog knowing that the break-up was imminent, and through the blog I was able to get a lot of my thoughts in order.

I know the idea of a blog is super passe to some people, but I'll never be embarrassed to be part of that nerdy blog culture. All the writing gigs I've gotten, my improved writing skills and subsequent realization that I was actually good at putting my thoughts and ideas into words, well those things never would have happened had I not started this blog. I had practically never written before starting The State That I Am In, which I don't tell very many people. I had been an avid reader since I was a small child, and entertained the idea of someday putting all my crazy thoughts and fantasies onto paper, but the confidence was just never there.

This blog has made me closer to my family and friends. It's made me understand myself more and given me a brighter, more optimistic outlook on life. And it's also given me a strange relationship with other bloggers whom I feel like I know very well, even thought we've never, and may not ever, met in person. You can find a list of those people in my blog roll on the left sidebar, but a couple of those girls I can picture having a round of drinks with and feel like I've known forever are the aforementioned Hillary, Rachel at Diary of Why, Miss Hope Dies Last, and the ever-hilarious LiLu. There are a ton of bloggers whom I am obsessed with, but those four ladies feel like old friends.

Whew...well that was unexpectidally emotional. Moving on!

Remember all those "scenes from my lunch break" photos I've been taking for the past year or so? Let me refresh your memory:

Well I turned them into an art project of sorts. My kitchen wall needed some decorations, so I had the photos printed and then painted some little frames in the manner of this old Domestic Tuesday project, but much cuter. See:



I was thinking of starting an Etsy shop and attemping to sell them, but I haven't yet perfected them, nor do I know if anyone would be intersted in buying such a thing. A few of the photos are of not-great quality, as I took them before I got my swanky little new camera, but I've been taking more and plan on adding to the collection every month or so. So I guess if you'd like to buy one or a few, let me know. I was thinking around $5 each would be good. I don't know, email me and we can hash it out. georgiaisyourfriend@gmail.com

In conclusion, since this post hasn't been very "faffy", here is a photo set of Elvis eating Pocky:

He does this weird thing whenever I offer him something...he'll graze his teeth across it before he takes it. Such a strange cat, this one.

Domestic Tuesdays - Soup Is Good Food

Inane things that make me feel like a grown-up:

• having Netflix
• brunch
• pot lucks
• brunch pot lucks
• drinking wine
• not killing my houseplants
• owning a food processor

I had accomplished all of the above (some in great quantities) aside from the last one up until three weeks ago, when I called a man about a Kitchenaid Cuisinart he had posted on Craigslist. I waited, per instructions, in the parking lot of a popular Hollywood shopping center that housed people in the above lofts, and felt very much as I imagine one would feel before a drug purchase. Heart racing (from the excitement of owning a food processor) - check! Pocket full of cash - check! Fantasizing about all the things I'd do once I got my grubby little hands on the goods - double check!

When I drove away with a huge box in my trunk that proudly displayed my grown-upness, I raced home and quickly threw together my very first food processor dish: goat cheese lollipops rolled in crumbled bacon and pecans, for Lost pot luck. They were a hit. Make these next time you go to a pot luck and people will invite you back despite that huge rash covering your entire body...seriously, you should probably see a doctor about that.

Then after that, aside from a hastily thrown together roasted red pepper dip for a brunch pot luck (I go to a lot of pot lucks, these days), the precious food processor just kinda sat in my tiny kitchen in all its looming glory. Until last night, that is.

Soup: it's one of my favorite things in life. So comforting, and so many different varieties. Plus, it's a vehicle for another of my favorite in-life things: bread. Don't even get me started about soup IN bread (as in a bread bowl) or bread IN soup (ooooh french onion soup, how I love thee). Well I found a basic recipe for broccoli soup after spending hours scrolling around on this recipe site (which I'm going to warn you in advance: don't click this link unless you're willing to give up many hours of productivity): tastespotting.com, and thought I'd give it a go. I added a bunch of things to the recipe, and will show you how you can too through my usual nonsensical pictorial. You're welcome.

You could probably use any vegetable for this soup, as it's pretty basic, but I stuck with broccoli cause it's cheap and healthy (like you!). The recipe called for either onions or leeks, but I'm a sucker for leeks and onions make my eyeballs angry when I slice them (slice the onions, not my eyeballs...ew), so I chose leeks.


Do you know how to prepare leeks? I didn't until last night when I sliced the root off and then stared dumfounded at the remainder like "uhhhh". Here's a helpful tutorial I found.

You end up with this.

Add the leeks and some chopped garlic (I used three cloves, but you can use less or more) to a tablespoon of olive oil in a large saucepan over medium heat.

At this time, your apartment will start to smell super yummy.

Cook the garlic and leeks for about five minutes to soften the leeks, then add four to five cups of broccoli. The recipe I had said to use a bag of broccoli florets, but those bags are a fucking rip off and just stupid. Buy a head or two of broccoli, cut the freaking florets off (you're gonna puree the fuckers anyway, so who cares if they look pretty) and you're done. Pour in two cups of chicken or veggie stock, and cover the pot to cook for about 10 minutes. Don't peek or you'll let all the steam out! Trust me, my mom use to yell at me for doing this all the time.

This is a roux. Don't be scared of it. It's just a fancy way of saying "roux"...har har. Really it's just flour, milk, and butter whisked together until thick in order to thicken the soup. I use this when I'm making mac and cheese (oh my god, I haven't shown you my mac and cheese recipe yet!).

Once it's thick and the flour flavor is cooked out, pour that nasty looking stuff into the simmering broccoli/leeks/garlic/chicken broth pot, mix, and cover again for another five minutes or so.

Here's where the new toy comes in. You could use a blender for this, you just have to work in smaller batches.

I took the chute attachment out of the lid because I think I may have perhaps heard that you're supposed to do that somewhere so that the steam escapes? I don't know. I would recommend doing this either way because every time you hit the "pulse" button, a little poof of steam comes out the chute and it's kinda cute. I did this in two batches. The first I pulsed for only a few second, leaving it pretty thick, and the second batch I pureed for longer, so my soup wasn't too thick. After pureeing, add the soup back to the pot.

Then I started randomly adding stuff. Dried pesto tortellini? Sure!

Yum!

Corn? Sure!

Pancetta? Oh fuck yes.

I also added salt and pepper ("to taste", because I forgot to measure), a pinch of chili pepper (but you could add cayenne* or red pepper flakes), and some garlic powder.

*did I ever tell you that I have the hardest time saying "Kayne West"? I always have to fight not to say "Cayenne West".

While the soup was simmering, I put together my poor-man's garlic bread. Take a piece of bread, spread on a little butter, garlic paste, pepper, and grated Parmesan cheese, and throw that fucker into the toaster oven. Of course, if you wanted to get classy, you could make your own croutons by cutting up some crusty bread, tossing that in a bowl with some olive oil and garlic, and throwing it onto a baking sheet and into the oven for however long, you little show off.

I suggest making this soup for a loved one, because then you'll have someone to do the dishes and clean up the huge mess you just made. Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on how you look at it), I'm on my own...well, practically:

"Wut r dishez??"

Yum.

Edited to add: Parmesan cheese!!! You must grate Parmesan cheese on top of the soup or you'll diiiiieeee!

Okay, this last step is very important so pay close attention.

take these three ingredients:

and do this:

Come back next week to see my kitchen get thoroughly confused (think: shock & awe) when a Guest Domestic shares her favorite vegan recipe.
xo

Roadkill Monday (absolutely NO relation to Domestic Tuesday)

I ran over some sort of animal last night. I had just picked up my friend Kathy, and we were headed towards a certain East LA bar with questionable hipster-ties, when something dashed in front of my car. I braked hard and my car rumbled as it drove directly over whatever fuzzy little creature with a death wish had just kamikazed himself beneath my tires. I came to a complete stop a few feet away, and buried my face in my hands while some ungodly squelch of horror came out of me.

My thoughts went something like this: "oh my god i just killed someones poor little kitty, i can't drive away i'm going to have to get out and knock on doors until i find the owner and some little girl is going to scream at me for killing her cat but why the fuck is this cat outdoors on a busy street oh my god i want to go hug Elvis right now i hope he's okay [peeking in the rear view mirror] OH MY GOD IT'S LITTLE HIND LEG IS DOING SOME HORRIBLE ZOMBIE-LIKE GIMP THING AS HE TRIES TO PICK HIMSELF UP OFF THE ASPHALT!!!! AAAAAAAAHHHH!!!"

Kathy had me pull off the street and promised to investigate, all the while soothingly telling me that she was pretty certain it wasn't a cat at all, but some sort of evil raccoon (which isn't much better, because I have a secret fantasy of having a raccoon as a pet, but it is better than a cat). But really, even I know that raccoons/skunks/possums don't run as fast as this little fuzzball did when my car pwn3d him...but I told her to lie to me and tell me it wasn't a cat.

"It's gone," she said, "and I'm pretty certain it wasn't a cat."

"Are you suuuure???" I cried to her. "Do you promise it wasn't a cat but oh my god lie to me and tell me even if you're not sure, okay??? Tell meee (but don't tell me)."

"Wasn't a cat," she repeated as she climbed back into my car. "And it ran off, so I'm sure it's okay," she told me authoritatively.

We drove off, and I wanted to cry. But more than a good cry, I needed a stiff drink. Halfway through my first Jameson on the rocks, we laughed about it and marveled at how stupid that animal [raccoon] was to literally dart directly underneath my car. When I got home though, I hugged my cat tight, knowing that whatever I had surely fatally maimed, was running too fast to be anything but a cat.

In Treatment

Two weeks ago I started seeing a therapist. A good friend had been going to see this woman for quite some time, and spoke very highly of her, so I thought I'd give it a try. Before that, though, I started taking Zoloft. I had been depressed - not a deep, heavy depression - but a lingering one that I just couldn't shake. My natural optimism had taken a back seat and even simple things like listening to commercials on the radio left me feeling emotionally drained and helpless. I did some research on the trusty Internet, and walked into the office of the cute, young psychiatrist intending on walking out with a prescription for Zoloft, and that's just what I did.

I took Zoloft for two months and during that time I was exhausted constantly, couldn't sleep at night, had zero sex drive (like, I didn't even "rub one out" ONCE!), and worst of all, felt absolutely nothing. It was terrible, that last part. I was numb and all experiences I had measured a nonplussed "meh" on my radar. I stopped taking it, called my friend's highly-spoke-of therapist, and made an appointment.

I've been to a good number of therapists in my life, starting with family therapy as a child...I'm an old hand at it, really. I've had a small few that have helped me immensely, such as the grandfatherly man who guided me through my difficult break-up and subsequent move from San Francisco two year ago using wry humor and explorative questions. But more often than not, I don't get much out of the few sessions I end up sticking with, before calling to cancel and never rescheduling.

What gave me some level of optimism with this therapist though, although also some amount of pause, is that she incorporates astrology into her practice. For me, astrology is nothing more than an occasional glance at my daily horoscope (usually a "read mine, too" if a friend is reading theirs), doing one of those stupid "are you compatible??" sign comparisons when I like a dude (then subsequently ignoring all negative feedback), and hesitantly telling people I'm a Gemini but swearing that I'm nothing like a typical Gemini when asked what my sign is (because EVERYONE has an evil ex that was a Gemini...even I do).

Anyway, I was hesitant but hopeful, although mostly nervous that she'd pull some "you're going to meet the man of your dreams on June 16th" bullshit and I would leave feeling just as lost. Instead, she uses my astrology "chart", which she had mapped out after getting my birth date and time, to direct the session, and it works wonderfully.

After asking me a ton of questions (which is essential for me as I don't normally feel comfortable talking about myself at length ((says the girl with the public blog)) during our first session, she mapped out both of my parents charts, as well as my sibling's, and guides the sessions by saying something along the lines of "your mother's moon is in such-and-such, and yours is in so-and-so, which probably means there's a lot of blah blah blah between you guys?" Which started a conversation about my relationship with my mother in which things came out that I had never discussed with anyone before, so I guess that's good progress? So yeah, she basically uses astrology to guide the session, as well as to help explain why I do the things I do, and what kind of person it makes me.

I love meeting with her, and have left both sessions looking forward to the next. I don't feel 100% yet, but I feel like I'm sorting things out that I've never really worked on before. The best part, though, is that she has two miniature poodles in her office which happily sleep on your lap while you discuss your childhood traumas and how they relate to you being a 28 year old who still doesn't really understand "dating". Puppies and psychoanalysis. It's kind of a win/win situation.