BAH! grumblegrumble

Oh man. Can I just tell you how much I hate this week? So much that I have yet to blog here. Which pretty much NEVER happens.

I have a backlog of recipes and photos. And I have memes I should be tackling. All that coupled with the annoyingness of this work-week has been making me shy away from doing a GODDAMN THING on this blog. =P Instead, I've been looking at vintage clothes on-line in my spare time and craving a good thrift-shopping outting.

But I must not let this week get the better of me.

So here you go.

First: Memed.

I got tagged for a meme by the lovely Leslie and Yasmin, and yes yes yes, I've been avoiding actually doing this meme because I've done shorter versions and longer versions once or twice before and I feel hardpressed to think of some other interesting tidbits about myself that I haven't yet shared. But since more than one lovely veghead tagged me for it, I've been feeling a bit guilty not actually taking the time to do it. So I started it on Monday, and I've gotten as far as... 1 fricking fact. I keep wracking my brain, hoping to think of something, and then I'll be like, Nope: already mentioned it in some previous blog post. So I must admit defeat.

Here's my single UTTERLY UNFASCINATING fact that I could think of this week.

#1: I drive a bright yellow new VW beetle, and I hate it. I hate it because it's a piece of shit. I hate it because I bought it from a cop who ripped me off and whose teeth I'd like to knock down his throat. And I hate it because whenever I'm in it, I feel like a parody of what people see me as, as a stereotype of myself, and IT IS NOT REPRESENTATIVE OF WHO I AM AT ALL. So that irritates the piss out of me. The only fun thing about it is when N-A drives it around, since it is so very much a girl-car, so it's funny as hell to see a big, fairly imposing dude behind the wheel.

So since I suck, if you're REALLY interested in finding out some fascinating facts about me, you can ask me a question in my comments section and I will answer it. Or you can not. I will quite possibly go home and cry myself to death if you don't, but don't let THAT pressure you into thinking of something to ask. *Evil eye*

Secondly, I share with you (mostly to get rid of them finally) pictures of a couple recipe-less things I recently ate.

The first is a batch of eggplant parmesan. I didn't fry up the eggplant long enough, and I should've ground the breadcrumbs down super-finely ('cause they ended up kind of messy), but nonetheless: delish. And the one useful thing I *CAN* share with you is the sole reason they came out so tasty: Instead of using just breadcrumbs to bread them, I used half breadcrumbs, half ground-pecans. And seriously: if you go away from this blog today WITHOUT killing yourself out of boredom after reading this sour-ass post, and you're looking to whip something up for dinner, take this one recommendation with you. You've not tasted good eggplant parmesan until you've tasted eggplant parmesan breaded with pecans.



This second pic is of tiny shell-pasta coated in the VwaV alfreda sauce (with walnuts subbed in for the pine nuts), and topped with roasted asparagus. The VwaV alfreda sauce is one of my favorite sauces, mostly because it's so fricking easy to make and because I almost always have the ingredients around. Oh, and also because it tastes damn good.



Thirdly, cat pics! 'Cause cat pics always make me feel less grouchy!

This is the stray cat I've been feeding since last winter. I'm not sure if it's a boy or a girl, but I've been calling her/him a she, so she's stuck with that for now. Anyways, she's the one I built the cat shelter for a while back. I wish she was less skittish, 'cause then my mom might be willing to adopt her. But although she talks to me when she sees me, she won't allow me to pet her. I just hope she puts the shelter to good use this winter as well. (Please, no lectures about feeding strays, otherwise you will find yourself with one less nipple. I know the deal. I thought about it long and hard when I started feeding her, and I've made the commitment. I feed her like I feed my cats (though not as large a portion), and I've done it every day since about last March or so. So until I start regularly returning to her bowl to see it's not been eaten, or until I move, she'll be getting fed.)






This is Zooey watching the stray from my roof and looking like a weird gargoyle:




And here's a random pic of Franny, just so she doesn't get mad that I posted pics of Zooey but not her. =)



An this is a random pic of N-A's kitchen table. Really, not all that interesting, but for some reason this picture makes my eyes happy, so I share.



Hopefully tomorrow: a recipe! *GASPS OF SHOCK AND HORROR* Keep your fingers crossed.

Pinto Bean Tacos

                                      from the Veg Times

Oh tacos. I love you, and that love for you is the bane of my existence. You are to blame for so many things:

#1: gas,

#2: me not getting laid that one time because my breath smelled after I ate many of you and then biked over N-A's afterward, breathing through my mouth the whole time and conjuring up the sour breath of the taco-gluttoned dead (the not getting laid part moreso being the result of me getting salty at being told my breath smelled than it was the fact that my breath actually smelled, though I STILL hold you responsible),

#3: more gas, and

#4: the time I caught some taco shells on fire in my broiler.

Nonetheless, you are my go-to food on days when I'm feeling too lazy to cook anything else. And for that I thank you.

Plus, you come in so many different shapes and forms that it is near impossible to ever be bored by you, and for someone who has the culinary attention span (and general attention span) of a 2-year old, that is a great thing.

Needless to say, for this reason alone, I was excited to stumble across mention of this version of you on someone's blog recently. Normally, as you know, I whip you up with just beans or with fake-meat. But sausage? How have we never thought of that?

The other brilliant thing about you, tacos, is that you're so simple to make and yet so yummy. Such was the case with this version of you as well. And not only did I like you this time, but N-A did too, loudly blurting, mouth half-full, Oh my god. These may be the best tacos I've ever had.

Hyperbole? Perhaps. But you WERE damn good. And I didn't even use cheez on you. I can only imagine how fantastique you'd be then. *Growr*

It seems unfair not to share my love for you with others, so that they may love you too.

So, dear readers. *tearing up* Meet Pinto Bean Tacos.

This is a day you will remember always. *Cue something from the soundtrack of Gray's Anatomy or Dawson's Creek*

(Note: I omitted several ingredients--red onions being one--so check out the link below for the original.)

INGREDIENTS:

• 12 6-inch corn tortillas (I used crunchy)


• 1 Tbs. canola oil


• 1 clove garlic, minced (1 tsp.)


• 4 oz. soy chorizo sausage, such as Soyrizo


• 1 10-oz. can diced tomatoes with chiles


• 2 15-oz. cans pinto beans, rinsed and drained


• 1 small avocado, sliced


• 1/3 cup vegan Cheddar cheese (optional)


• 1/4 cup chopped cilantro

DIRECTIONS

Heat up tortillas/shells according to package directions.

Heat oil in nonstick skillet over medium-high heat. Add garlic, and cook 1 minute. Crumble soy sausage into pan, and sautee until it's begun to brown. Stir in diced tomatoes, and bring mixture to a simmer. Reduce heat to medium-low, and cook 4 to 5 minutes, or until slightly thickened.

Stir in beans, and cook 2 minutes more, or until beans are warmed through.

To assemble tacos: Fill tortillas/shells with some bean mixture. Top avocado, cheese, and cilantro. Serve with salsa and hot sauce, if desired.

Serves about 3.

(from The Veg Times)

Curried Dookie

My new favorite word is dookie. My fella refers to butts as dookies. I've always referred to poop as dookies. The conflation of the two meanings gets a bit confusing. When I shout, "Whatever, dookie" I mean "Whatever, poop" but in his head I'm not sure if it's being interpreted as "Whatever, butt." And though perhaps still an insult, "Whatever, poop" has a better ring. And alternately, when he pokes me and says, "Check out that girl's dookie," my head immediately reacts with horror at someone walking around with their poop out until I realize that I should be sneaking a peek at a mighty fine ass. See my dilemma here?

What does this have to do with food? Well, I've been eating a lot of things lately that look like dookie. In both senses of the word.

Surprising? No. What with my lengthy list of dookie/vomit-reminiscent foods of yore.

What IS surprising is that I think I'm starting to not like Indian food. *GASPS OF SHOCK AND HORROR* Thing is, I think it's only Indian food that *I* cook that I'm starting to not like though. A nice puff of naan and some spicy eggplant curry from the local Indian food restaurant sounds delectable to me right now. But the past couple weeks, when I whipped up two different Indian food dishes at home, they didn't make lunchtime too happy for the week. And the thing is, they weren't bad recipes. I just never found myself looking forward to actually EATING them at lunch.

The first Indian dish I whipped up was Georgia's Dahl with Eggplant and Spinach:



I ended up making lots of adjustments (cumin seeds to cumin powder, mustard seeds to mustard powder, chili paste to chili powder, etc.) mostly just because I didn't feel like going out and buying whole versions of things I already had in powdered form. And all in all it was a nice, tummy-warming recipe. And it made TONS--I had enough for like a small army. But it was so DENSE. (It looked nothing like the picture posted at Lady's Vegan Blog, as you can see.) Whenever I dipped a fork into it, I felt like a little kid playing with his mashed potatoes, 'cause I could've easily formed it into some huge edible sculpture, it was that thick. I ended up pawning off some of it on my friend P. She, in turn, I suspect ended up pawning it off on the garbage.

The other Indian food dish I made was Scrumpdilly's Spicy Red Lentil Dal:



This was UBER rich and decadent-tasting. And yet, for some reason, I felt like I was gonna die whenever I ate it for lunch. I could only get a part of the way through a portion before I just couldn't handle eating anymore. Which was weird because it really IS very yummy. But perhaps it was too heavy for lunch portions? I mean, all that coconut milk perhaps isn't something that's gonna leave you anything but sluggish for the rest of an afternoon. So again: this was actually a really tasty and simple recipe, but I just was like BLUH whenever I tried to eat this for lunch.

Perhaps I'm turning into an old fogey and no longer can handle spicy foods? Perhaps I'm turning into a palate curmudgeon? Perhaps I just need to make lighter lunches so I don't feel like I'm dragging around a belly the size of a house for the afternoon? Not sure.

Either which way, it saddens me, because Indian food used to be my favorite food. And now, well, I guess if it's going to drop that title, I'd really like to have something to enthusiastically take its place.

And not dookie.

Unless you're referring to the ass meaning.

In which case, PERHAPS I'd be amenable to that.