Category Archives: ‘Cause I’m A Kid

Siren Songs and BLTs

Can we talk siren songs for a minute?

A siren song can be just about anything that you shouldn’t do that calls to you. Hard.

I hear them, like, everyday. I have for my whole life.

When I was three, four and five my siren songs were super dicey. Mostly because, at those carefree ages, I always went with my impulses.

Siren song: Play with the shiny big ‘toy’ cars racing through busy intersections.

Result: Dislocated shoulder.*

Siren song: Touch every open flame around.

Result: … I touched a bunch of fires. Ouch?

Siren song: Stand and rock on a chair with inexplicably sharp edges.

Result: Chin chok-a-block full of stitches.

Siren song: Stand on a wheely chair while leaning out our second story window.

Result: I couldn’t go to story time.

That was the worst.** Also, one of the only punishments that wasn’t just a short time-out. I got away with so much.

My siren songs have changed a bit over the years.

Siren song: Buy every issue of Locke & Key.

Result: Poorness.

… But read this if you haven’t. It’s incredimazeballs.

Siren song: Put bourbon in everything.

Result:

 Bourbon spiked Arnold Palmers.

Siren songs I hold off on:

Putting my hand in the running garbage disposal.

Walking into the giant ovens at my baking school.

Jamming the spokes of other people’s bikes.***

Shouting in theaters during live productions.****

Eating bacon every day… I don’t hold off on this one voluntarilly, I just can’t afford that much bacon.

I ate a friend’s bacon today… that sounded… not ideal.

#No shame

A couple weeks ago I made myself a BLT that I’m still salivating over.

 Sorry, the picture’s a bit fuzzy but I took it on my phone with the low-blood-sugar/why-isn’t-that-in-my-face-yet shakes.

It’s a loaded Spring BLT. Like a salad in bread and full of bacon. So, it’s exactly how I like all my salads.

In case you want to eat this beautiful monster…

Thinly slice a small red onion and a handful of radishes.

In a bowl, pour enough red wine vinegar over the sliced onion and radishes to completely cover them.

(Later, you’ll want to save the un-absorbed oniony vinegar for dressings!)

Add a couple pinches of salt and dried dill.

Let it sit and get pickly while you get to the good stuff.

Fry several pieces of bacon, pat off excess fat and set aside.

Drain most of the grease from your pan and sautee a handful of trimmed, rinsed asparagus on high heat for a couple of minutes, until they’ve got some color on them but are still a bit crisp.

Rinse and dry something like lettuce (I used red leaf and spinach. This really was a salad. I’m bonkers, I’ve accepted it).

Slice a tomato and some Dubliner.

Toast a couple slices of sourdough and mix together a couple tsps of whatever mustard you have around with a couple tbsps of greek yogurt (I was out of mayo. This actually worked pretty well. Shocking stuff) and some black pepper.

Assemble and destroy.

You look like you could use a good sandwich.

Treat yo self.

A little quick real life talk? My days have been chaotic, I’ve been sick or fighting something off for weeks and am just now feeling like myself again. I’m gonna work on building up this weak immune system of mine while working my tail off in this baking program and looking for paying work. I don’t know how much time I’ll have for this blogging business. I’m gonna try to post more, but I can’t promise anything regular. I’m gonna shoot for a post every other week, for now.

And now, a request: TELL ME YOUR SIREN SONG.

Too intense?

Well, guys, I really wanna know.

Throw a girl a bone, will ya?

*Or elbow. Probably elbow. But who can keep track of their own medical history? Squares is who!

**I love you mom. I’m obviously only alive ’cause you made the tough decisions. But I’ll probably never get over this.

Also, Everyone, tell me a story. It’ll be awesome. For me.

***My siren songs would be dicks. Obvi.

****As someone who’s done some little bits of theater and has many friends who are actively pursuing a life in that industry, this is the one that feels the worst to me. But the urge is never not there. I figure when I’m older, I’ll snap and be the worst audience member ever. Like a living version of Thespis, but less creative.

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Filed under 'Cause I'm A Kid, Bacon, Bourbon, Drinks, Green, Sandwiches, Spring

Oprah Style

I can’t decide if this post’s title means I’m going to tell you about my favorite things (stop looking under your chair, there will be no giveaways. Despite my childhood beliefs, I’m not actually Oprah) or show you a bag of chips I ate, tell you about my regrets and then get Gayle to feed me salads on a yacht while I nap and Stedman moves my legs.

Maybe there’s something more doable in between. ‘Cause I don’t know Gayle or Stedman and I totally don’t have a yacht. Or know where to find one.

Ok, let’s forget ‘favorite things’ and the fact that my dinner last night consisted of taste testing chips (shut up, it was for science).

Real life things! I got sick again this week. I blame children. They’re always covered in jam and cooties. Mostly cooties.

 These are my favorite hot drinks for my least favorite times. Xiao’s blend from Peet’s (pricey but pretty damn perfect) and homemade ginger tea.

Fresh ginger tea is spicy and amazing and cheap. Peel a hunk of ginger and slice, chop or grate it into a pot, cover with multiple cups of water (about 1 cup water for every inch of ginger- this is a strong ratio and will seriously clear your sinuses), slowly bring to a boil, stock-like, for the most possible flavor, strain into cups with honey and lemon juice and breath in the steam. If you’re really sick throw in a crushed clove of garlic and a 1/2 tsp of cayenne pepper for every 2 cups of water- I start on the weaker end of the ratio with these additions.

When I’m extra lazy I just throw a few slices of ginger in a mug with honey, top it off with hot water and lemon juice. Works in a pinch. The real benefit of making a whole pot of the stuff is that you can just throw more water in once it’s gone and you’ll have a new, slightly weaker batch of tea in twenty minutes and your sick self won’t have to chop or peel again for days.

I’ve also been known to just drink hot water with lemon and honey. ‘Cause of how uncoordinated I get when sick and half asleep. Safety first!

I’m gonna backtrack a bit now.

But Rosie, why would you want to go backward?*

Because hot buttered grits with brown sugar is stupid good.

Are you guys eating grits yet? If you haven’t started yet… maybe you shouldn’t. It’s much harder not to eat grits constantly once you know how good they are.

But surely you’re making sundaes.

 You’d be bananas** not to.

And if you want to skip the scary sugar boiling thing I did last week, you can do what I did this week and make a small batch of Deb’s butterscotch sauce in the microwave. Yeah. I’m gonna tell you about this and trust you not to die immediately. You have self control, right?

You’ll need:

a microwave safe bowl

… a microwave

a spoon for stirring every minute or so

1 tbsp butter

2 tbsps dark brown sugar

2 tbsps heavy cream

a pinch of salt

a scant 1/2 tsp vanilla (sometimes I skip the vanilla and just use bourbon***)

Combine all ingredients except for the vanilla in your bowl, microwave for 3-4 minutes (until it has bubbled a bit and everything’s all copacetical), stopping and stirring every minute, add vanilla, stir, cool slightly and use a ladle to pour it into your face. Or just dump other sundae stuff into that same bowl. Or be nice and share as there should be enough for two. Or do like me and make a mini apple crisp and eat the entire thing in one night with ice cream and this microwavable miracle while sick like a hungry hungry fool.

 This is about 1/3 of said crisp. It had a crunchy oat and pecan laced topping and sweet and sour cinnamon covered fuji and granny smith apples underneath. It was glorious.

Hey. I made apple crisp the last time I was sick too. Weird. I developed a new habit!

You know what else happened the last time I got sick? A wonderful lady brought me bread. The bread she gave me this time had fruits and nuts in it.

 We covered that bread in this glorious stuff. It’s like smushed up marmalade made of ginger and I love it and I’m gonna put it in french toast with something creamy and die of joy.

That’s what’s gonna happen. With mimosas. ‘Cause we’re princesses.

So I guess I sort of do have a Gayle. Now all we need is a yacht.

 

*Does it freak you out how well I know your mind? The answer is yes.

**Yup. Still doing that. Just try and stop me. Because I can’t. Seriously. Help.

***Bourbon is totally my spirit animal.

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Filed under 'Cause I'm A Kid, Bourbon, Breakfast, Drinks, For the Sick, Girly, Heavy Cream, Ice Cream, Melted Butter

Easter Sacks

Happy Easter, Internet!

You may have asked yourself, “what’s the deal with Easter?”*

**

It’s a question I didn’t really know the answer to until I saw this messed up bunny.

This holiday is clearly about things that we all thought were safely tucked away (ahem, dead) but sneaky style came back to scare the butts off of us.

It’s about demonic candy.

It’s about ham type substances.

It’s about old dudes in freaky bunny costumes who… want you to look for the eggs they laid? What?!

Ok, so I still don’t get this holiday but there’s pork and weirdly shaped, awesomely fresh Reese’s products*** so I’m down.

When I was a small person, my grandparents would bring giant baskets full of candy and toys every year. I dyed eggs with mom. I didn’t know what ham was or why anyone would eat a meat that was so suspiciously pink but I was full of sugar so ‘dinner’ didn’t matter.

Our traditions of baskets, egg dying and looking at ham all puzzled style have fallen by the wayside. I’m totally supposed to be a grown up or something.

But I realized after Easter ended last year that I missed all of that stuff.

I also realized that it is mad impractical to hand an open basket to someone who isn’t in their home.

So. New traditions.

I’m going to dye eggs with my mom… maybe on Wednesday. It’ll be beautiful.

I made (and hopefully, will continue to make) Easter Sacks for some lady friends.****

A quality sack for a quality sack… of friendship.

Average sack contains assorted cheap ass chocolates, small egg shaped candy coated things and a peep impaled with a pink flamingo drink skewer.

And, yes, that is a Kim Possible (Ron Stoppable) valentine’s day card that I found in my closet when I was looking for the fake grass.

I believe it’s a fitting card for any occasion.

And I will fight you about this belief.

‘Cause KP is too legit to quit.

So is Mojo Jojo… I also had Powerpuff Girl cards.

And Spider-Man eggs. Which are sketchy. But so are comics. Ha! I slay me.

Anyways. In the spirit of Easter, I went out with Megan last night, gave her a sack, had some drinks, talked to some ladies (who were a little too drunk to be alive… or talking… or maybe just awake), ate chicken, steak and carnitas tacos… and then four donuts.

We did it for the baby Jesus.*****

What kinds of donuts did we have? What a legitimate question!

-Chocolate glazed with rainbow sprinkles (because when you’re drunk or a child, brightly colored things are irresistible)

-That wacky kind that’s covered in crumbs like it belongs to Entenmann’s (next time Safeway has a sale, somebody’s going down a memory lane made of coffee cake) (that somebody will be me)

-A near perfect maple old fashioned

-An awesome glazed donut

All dunked in horrible coffee and eaten surrounded by the random people who show up at a donut place in the middle of the night.

That’s how you make Easter magic, people.

So, this weekend, go buy cheap, scary candy, drink with a friend, stumble over to a taco truck and eat too many donuts. It’s a recipe for success. Until you wake up. Then you will feel sad and gross. But that’s what the holidays are ultimately about anyways. Which means, I nailed it. Woo!

Oh and when you realize there’s too much candy in your house, come back here. Next post: bacon and random candy chunk cookies.

‘Cause it’s good to shake things up with your leftovers.

And bacon shakes real good.******

 

*Seinfeld voice. Obvi.

**Easter Demon. Like, damn. I’m full of terror. My aura is a quivering pastel cloud of fear.

Eep.

***My brother once opened a Reese’s peanut butter cup’s wrapper and found mold. Holiday candy matters, kids.

Also, their giant ‘eggs’ are way better than their Christmas trees. Yeah, I said it. Stance= taken.

****And my brother. ‘Cause he loves cadbury cream eggs. Which I don’t get, but ‘follow your bliss’ (Cher voice).

I’m gonna skip the extra sacks for my manfrenjensens. It seems like over-kill.

*****I know Easter isn’t about the baby Jesus. But Ricky Bobby changed the way I think of the lord.

******A bacon shake would be too gross, right?

 

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Filed under 'Cause I'm A Kid, Candy, No recipe, Spring