Monday, May 11, 2015

A Little Winner-Winner Chicken Dinner

If we're friends or I've ever been drunk with you, I've probably asked you over for a chicken dinner. Like most of my invitations, it wasn't genuine. I mean well but I lack follow-through. The idea of cleaning my house for company seems pointless, but I'm too anal to have anyone in my house when it's this dirty. As soon as I can pay my cat to do the massive pile of laundry in the middle of my apartment, we'll have that chicken dinner. Just because I'm too lazy to make you a chicken dinner, doesn't mean I'm too lazy to make myself one. It only means more chicken for me. Yeah, the secret's out - I don't always throw the fabulous dinner parties my blog would like you to believe I do. 

My plus-one doesn't do meat, so when the cat's away this mouse plays....and eats a whole bunch of roasted meat. Truthfully, I barely do meat these days either, but when I feel like indulging, I buy the cheapest whole chicken I can find. I like my meat chock full of god-only-knows what contaminates the USDA thinks are fit for human consumption. When I see "reduced for quick sale" my mouth just waters. Part of the thrill of being a carnivore is knowing how appalling factory-farming is, but eating it anyway. This here is America damnit. 

Thursday, April 23, 2015

A Little Fish 'n Chips

Friday nights chez Toulouse are exactly like a Catholic church charity event: fish, booze, gambling and nicotine-stained walls. I'm leery when it comes to fish. Something about the way it smells. It's really no scarier than chicken or beef, just more expensive and easier to screw up.  In my younger and poorer days, (when I shared a small one-bedroom apartment with a college friend) I made this dish to impress a date. Somehow neither of us died, but 4 years later the relationship did. For some reason salmon seems fancy, but only because it's expensive. If it's not expensive, stay away because god only knows where it came from. Salmon says to the world that you are health conscious with disposable income. I typically don't go for salmon, but when I do - I only cook it one way because variety is the spice of life. This is so easy you don't even have to stop drinking to make it.

Salmon pairs well with white wine, and beer, and red wine, and gin, and vodka and nail polish remover or whatever else you have under the sink.

Tuesday, March 31, 2015

A Little Spring Fare

I made five pies for a fundraiser this weekend (including a chocolate chess pie), but I won't be showing you that. Let's face it, winter is mostly over and while all the snow has melted away, the fat on your ass probably hasn't. Everyone told me after the age of twenty-five your metabolism slows down, I just figured like most laws, it didn't apply to me. Twenty-five breezed by in late night burgers and ice cream and I stayed skinny as a whippet, partially because of the manic period, but mostly because of good genetics. Now that I'm twenty-six, I'm a little bit wiser and a little bit wider. As a former fat-kid this is all cause for worry. My mom warns me about the hereditary "spread" that happens to people on her side of the family; a non scientific condition in which the hips and ass spread wider than the shoulders. As many of you know, I have an ass that won't quit, but after taking a good look around at the holidays, I'm realizing my fate if I keep eating with reckless abandon. I'd rather hate my reflection for all those hateful things it said to that bus driver than its flabby butt. That's why I'm starting with me. 

My plus-one recently embarked on a #cleaneatingchallenge which was just as annoying as it sounds. I did learn something though, and that is life's too short to count calories and read labels. Eat what you want. You can trust big food companies. That's why I choose Kraft Easy Mac for my family...

Monday, March 23, 2015

A Little Heart Attack

As winter squeezes out the last drops of our souls, don't be too hasty putting that CrockPot away. Yeah, thanks assholes who wore sandals and shorts on the one day it was 60 degrees - the hellish snowstorm this week was probably your fault.

I've become the cranky old lady I was destined to be. I collect kitty cat knick-knacks, wear socks to bed and if the mood strikes me, I might yell at a bank teller. Oh, and I eat lots of soups. It's like a hot salad.  There's really nothing better on a chilly spring day than coming home to a warm bowl of mush. Soups are also good for feeding big groups of people with limited supplies. I've been known to throw together a soup with little more than chicken bouillon and expired celery. Don't believe me? Ask the dishes.