Monthly Archives: February 2012

Galentine’s Day

I have a lovely lady friend. She’s smart and funny and I’m totally into her face.

Our friendship looks like this:

-“It’s the middle of the night and I need to vent to someone who won’t give me even more perspective than I already freaking’ have (because I tend to dismiss my sadness/anger feelings because of third world countries/possession of sight and limbs and whatnot) so… Nations or are bars still open?”

-“Did you see ‘Parks and Rec’?”

-“Oh my sweet baby jesus, Childish Gambino! We will sit on his face.”*


-“Eat this delicious thing.”

-“Am I bonkers for analyzing this so much?”

“Not even at all.”***

-‘Fat Bottomed Girls’. Obvi.****

This guy.*****

That’s 99% of our beautiful life together. Bask in it’s glory, Internet.

Anyway, given our propensity for daydreaming about Leslie Knope’s face we decided to have us a big ass Galentine’s Day.******

The actual day of our fantastical lady times was cold and overcast. I was brain dead from exhaustion brought on by pestering cafe’s for work (I had an interview the next day!) (Interviews are gross) and we both wanted to sit around in sweat pants and read. But, being ladies, we didn’t mention these feelings to one another until we’d covered ourselves in girl fabrics and lugged awesome food and delicious day drunk drinks to a garden where we complained about the icy wind, boys and how super incapable I am of ending a sentence at a reasonable length.

And then Megan gave me this:

 Ron Freaking Swanson. (If you click on his face, you will be able to read the words next to him. Then you will understand why Megan is the best sort of lady friend around.)

And my day was totally made.

The end.

Reader- “But Rosie, wasn’t there food at this lady picnic?”

Other reader- “Yeah, isn’t this supposed to be at least partially a food blog?”

Yes, you beautiful naive sophisticated new born baby.*******

This day was full of food.

And! I’m totally gonna tell you about it.

When I’m less sickly and done with naps.

In the meantime…

Have some flowers! I picked them, ’cause I’m romancing you.

Also, know that Megan put honey in fresh ricotta and slathered it on bread and covered that in apple slices. In general I’m not a big fan of ricotta because I, you know, can’t remove my mouth, but this stuff was delicious. Put that in your thinking caps, people.

*Probably not at the same time- his face is a normal size. A beautiful, mustachioed, normal size.

Also, if you like seeing his face with a mustache (if you don’t, you’re clearly a monster), then you should definitely see Mystery Team. It’s absurdly hilarious.

**We saw Robin fucking Williams do a surprise set! I’m not ever getting over that.

***Should we acknowledge that we’re sort of bonkers? WHAT. Who said that? Jerks.

****Welcome to our go-to karaoke song. Also, Megan/anyone who bothers to read my silly words, have you still not seen ‘Spring Breakdown’? You clearly have internet access, go fix your life.

*****Yes, this is separate from Parks and Rec. That is how into his face we are.

******“What’s Galentine’s Day? Oh it’s only the best day of the year. Every February 13th my lady friends and I leave our husbands and our boyfriends at home and we just kick it breakfast style. Ladies celebrating ladies. It’s like Lilith Fair, minus the angst. Plus, frittatas!”

-Leslie Knope

No, we didn’t make waffles. It’s possible I ate some whipped cream after putting on sweats and taking a nap but it’s a blur.

*******”Oh Ann, you beautiful tropical fish”

Sometimes the nonsense I speak is secretly a reference that you won’t get unless you happen to watch whatever I watch.

I’m sorry. If it makes you feel better, I watch some really great stuff. Just look up at April Ludgate’s face. That thing is glorious.

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Filed under Girly, No recipe

Two Soups, Three Sick

Everyone in my one bedroom apartment is sick. I’m still a bit in denial about my own illness, as I’m going out to see some friends tomorrow and there’s a twelve item list of things I need to make to avoid the whole fridge reeking of rot by Tuesday. (It’ll be Monday in, like, half an hour ago. I’m in the weeds. And who the hell’s gonna eat all of it?!)

I currently have too many carrots, a butt-load* of broccoli, a mixed pound of blood oranges and tangerines, mint, cauliflower, eggplant, peppers and several other vegetables that are on the brink of… grossness.

This is the newly shortened list. See, yesterday, when I still felt like a human, I made two pots of soup. One giant, one appetizer sized because I realized halfway into the giant pot, that I was craving something richer and starchier than the brothy lentil concoction I had simmering away.

Given that last night, I took my hair out of it’s bun and upon discovering that it was caked with soup spent a good two minutes debating whether I needed to wash it then or could just deal with it in the morning**… well, I think it’s safe to say I’m about as functional as a chicken in a plastic bag. (Is that a thing anyone says? No? FEVER.) This stuff isn’t gonna get done.***

Anyhoo, lentil soup is the soup of my family. Normally we make it all stew like, full of tomatoes and chunky business. But, for the sake of sickness, I went a much brothy-er route, using a little tomato paste instead of whole tomatoes and half a potato instead of… well, many more.

At some point I’ll take notes while I make lentil soup and give you a legit recipe, but for now I’ll just tell you that I made vegetable stock and cooked some french lentils (’cause our old pantry beans are secretly fancy), combined the lentils and stock and threw in sauteed onions, mushrooms and garlic and as many carrot and celery hunks as seemed necessary for me to be into eating the mess. (Plus, pepper, tamari, cayenne and lemon.) It was meant to be hot, sick person nourishment and it hit that nail on the head, though it wasn’t the most exciting soup ever.

As for the potato soup… well, for starters, sexier words were never written… except for most of the other words.****

Potato soup is kinda like the sweatpants of the soup world.*****

Also, let’s be real, if soup had a clothing line it would consist of onesies, nightgowns and, for the unfortunate bland disaster, track suits. (Onesies are sexy.) (As long as they don’t have butt flaps.) (So, not baby onesies. Ew.) (Do babies eat soup?) (Oh wait. Don’t actually care.)

I would buy so many shares in this clothing line.

Guys, remember how lentil soup is the soup of my family? Well, I meant to say my immediate family. My father’s side of the family eats… pork soup? Yeah, that sounds right. And I don’t know what people eat/ate on my mother’s side beyond my grandmother, who made potato leek soup like nobody’s business.

I’ve been searching for ways to feel connected to her ever since she passed. Food seems like my best bet given that I don’t really feel like having a fucked up relationship, being crazy, or drinking too much.

Her soup probably came from Moosewood or Julia Child. I didn’t bother to search her dusty cookbooks for the words she’d scratched in, saying to add more dill or cook it longer.

I went on instinct, aiming for a salty, sweet, slightly spicy, rich but creamless concoction that I might have been proud to share with her. (I kinda nailed it.)

Anyways, enough of this long, silly post.

Potato Soup

Serves 2 as an appetizer, 1 as an entree

Sautee over medium heat 1/2 large yukon gold potato, skin on, eyes out, chopped into small cubes (about 1/2 cup) in

1 tsp olive oil and 1 tsp butter

Cook for 2-3 minutes until there’s a little color on there.

Add in 1 leek, diced small (about 1/3 cup)

1 tsp minced garlic (1 big clove)

1 medium zucchini, 1/2 peeled if you’re deranged, like me, chopped small (about 1/2 cup)

Cook for 1-2 minutes until leeks are translucent

Salt and pepper

Add 2- 2 1/2 cups vegetable stock (chicken would be extra delicious if you’re into that)

Increase heat and cook for 5+ minutes until things are tender and some of the liquid has evaporated/things have starchened.******

Add 1/8 tsp each (to start) dried dill (more if using fresh), smoked paprika and cayenne.

Taste, adjust and serve with buttered bread (I threw some awesome smoked salt on top. Delicious), Greek yogurt and a squeeze of lemon.

Or serve it plain. It’s truly good either way. I’ve even been told it’s good cold.*******

Eat it. It’s a piece of cake… soup… I’m gonna go to sleep now…

*I’m sorry I’m like this. Though butts are funny. Don’t deny it.

**Did you imagine Liz Lemon, only less cute? Gold star! I looked like the big latin version of Liz when Floyd calls her a crone.

***Ok, I made a caramel burbon bottomed apple crisp and baba ghanoush. Whatevs. Still, like, 10 things to make.

****I don’t mean it. Nothing’s sexier than potatoes. Maybe boobs that prevented potatoes from sprouting and turning green, while frying bacon.

*****Easy to put on, hard to… keep… out of your mouth? Yeesh. Um… how to salvage this… I like my women like I like my soup: consisting largely of water.

******Totes a word. Like thickened. But with starch. Obvs.

*******Gross. But it is like eating a wet buttered potato. Which also sound gross. Dammit.


Filed under Soup!

Dear Green Beans,

I’m sorry. I’m not normally a shallow person. Like homely girls everywhere, I care more about personality than looks. And there’s no denying that I love your insides, Green Beans. When you snap softly under my teeth, I can’t help but smile… mostly because I’ve doubtlessly cooked you in butter or bacon and animal fats are mad sexy. But, I have to get real with you for a minute: your outside parts bother me.

I pick through bins of you somewhat obsessively, moving over to let those bold enough to just fill their hands and bags with you, not bothering, as I do, to cast off your wispy strands and thicker beans whose bulging insides allow me to think of nothing but that traumatic scene from Alien.

Once I get you home, I snap a chunk off of you at both ends and scrape my pairing knife down the sides of those of you I neglected to weed out, removing slivers of skin covered in dry scars and stretch marks. I’ve gladly eaten some hideous dishes, but you have so much (forgive me) potential that I become superficial around you.

Someday I will reach blindly into your piles instead of standing aside and watching with envy as others take you, bulbous and slight, wrinkled and taught, into their baskets and stomachs.

You’ve done nothing but nourish me, so I will try to be less judgmental when I stumble upon the ugos among you.

Seriously. My bad,


P.S.- You, like Mr. Pibb and Red Vines= crazy delicious, so don’t let this get you down.

Spicy Green Beans

Serves 2 as a side (unless you’re serving me. Then it serves 1… me).

Rinse, trim and halve 2 big handfuls of green beans.

Peel and mince 1/2 inch ginger and 2 small cloves garlic (about 1/2 tsp each)

Over medium high heat, melt 1/2 tbsp butter.

Add green beans and cook for about 1 minute.

Add ginger and garlic, cook, stirring regularly for another minute.

Add 1-2 tsps tamari and 2 tbsps water.

Stir and cook on high for 1-2 minutes until most of the liquid has evaporated and the beans are tender but still a bit crunchy (if you like less crunch, cover the pan with a lid after adding the water. This will also leave you with a bit of liquid but that makes a totally tasty sauce, especially if you stir in an extra pat of butter at the end).

Kill heat and add 1/2 tsp garlic chili paste (like sriracha) and 1 tsp lime juice. Taste, adjust and serve hot over rice, under a fried egg, or straight up.

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Filed under Green

Beer Bread

The other night, I realized halfway through my second beer that I was in a rotten mood. Down in the dumps. Grouchy. Depressed. So, I, being my mother’s daughter, stopped drinking it. Coming from a family of alcoholics lead me to become a very cautious drinker. Partly because I know I can’t support an addiction. I can’t really afford much of anything right now. See, part of my crabs ridden mood that night was a result of my complete unemployment. Ok, I pick up enough side jobs to not be completely doomed, but I definitely don’t get a steady paycheck or collect unemployment (do not pass GO*). I’m working on fixing that but it’s slow going and a bit demoralizing to be bashed over the head with rejection.

I figure I’m gonna need something positive to balance things out.

So I’ll be here turning half empty bottles of beer into bread and telling you about it.

*I hate that Monopoly is in my mind. 

Beer bread!

This beer bread habit of mine began when I was sorting through different brews and stumbling upon plenty that I didn’t care for. The cast off’s either went into bread or something stewed. Or cake. But we’ll get into that some other time.

Beer bread is like Irish soda bread… minus the baking soda… and with a totally awesomely rich flavor. I tend toward dark beers in general but especially for breads because they add a bitter caramely-ness that I really like. Plus they’re pretty. But use whatever you’ve got around. It’ll all be good once it’s toasted and buttered.


Drink 6 oz of your, like, fifth favorite beer while the oven preheats to 375.

Grease a small loaf pan and melt 2 tbsp unsalted butter.

Sift together, or cheat and fluff with a fork, 1 1/2 cups flour (I used whole wheat pastry but all purpose or a whole wheat/a.p. mix would work too- if using self rising flour, omit salt and baking powder)

1 1/2 tsp baking powder

1/2 tsp salt

1 1/2 tsp granulated sugar

Stir into the dry ingredients the other 6 oz of beer and 1 tbsp of butter. (If your beer didn’t start out as 12 oz… sorry… go open another one! Or add water, milk or buttermilk- if going with the latter, add a pinch or two of baking soda.)

The batter will be thick and a bit wet. Press into loaf pan, sprinkle with a pinch of salt and pour the remaining tbsp of butter all over the top.

Bake until golden brown and a skewer comes out clean- about 25-35 minutes (I rotated the pan halfway through, but that’s because my oven’s a butt. Know your ovens, people). Let cool for 10 minutes on a wire rack, then eat fat, toasted slices smeared with butter, cream cheese or broiled with a hunk of cheese on top and a bowl of soup.

P.S.- Quick breads are super versatile. Need to cut the sugar, salt or fat? Still tasty bread. Don’t want to use beer? Use, like, any other liquid. Quick breads are boss.

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Filed under Melted Butter