I’ve been bad the last two weeks at posting. I promise to be better over the next week. It’s not that I haven’t been making food (although I’ll be honest: there was a night where we had beans and weenies. Homemade chorizo weenies, but beans and weenies nonetheless). I’ve just been really tired. I’m the kind of person who, if they don’t get a FULL 8 hours of sleep for more than 2 or 3 nights in a row, I get cranky, exhausted, and usually cry at some point. It also saps my will to accomplish anything. So I’ve been tired, and thusly have been just beaching myself on the couch after I do gym and dinner until the point at which I crawl to bed. Sounds like depression, I know, but it really is just lazy. Plus, I totally miss you guys when I don’t get on blogger enough. On account of my bizarre attachment to my internet friends and all… I’m on Facebook, so if any of you are, you should let me know. I post things on there all the time from my phone.
Like yesterday, when I was at the grocery store. I was looking at my brown sugar options, and I hear a voice say “are you having a good day?” I look up to see a pudgy guy in his mid-thirties pushing one of those firetruck carts with two toddler boys, gathering a supply of cupcake mixes that should have kept them going for the better part of a month. He was wearing a polo shirt that was stretched all tight over his belly, and had thinning blond hair. His voice was a little bit high, too. Like he didn’t have quiiiiite enough testosterone to get him through being a dude for more than a few hours. Anyway, he was talking to me. I was all sweaty and tired, wearing gym clothes and a straggly ponytail. I was in no mood for conversation. I said, “Sure. Glad it’s almost over.” This should have been a clear end to the conversation, but instead seemed to be the opening he needed to talk some more. “It’s been really warm outside.” I replied, “yup.” Then, and I swear I’m not making this up, he said “I wish I was in shape so I could go run around outside and exercise.” To my breasts. Like I was going to say “Oh my GOSH! I have GREAT news for you! It turns out, and they just released this so don’t feel bad for not knowing, that the only way to get in shape is to lick big titties, and it turns out I have a spare pair RIGHT HERE! Just struggling around in my shirt with nothing to do! How serendipitous! Help yourself!” I mean, honestly. How awkward is that? How do you answer that? And how does someone come to the conclusion that a) you have to be in shape first before you can start exercising, b) a good way to hit on someone in running gear is to point out your own sedentary existence, c) that it’s okay to ‘lay the mack’ on a much younger girl IN FRONT OF YOUR CHILDREN. That’s two little boys who are going to grow up with a warped view of male-female interactions, and also probably a healthy dash of general disrespect for their dad.
That’s my rant. And I posted a hunk of it on Facebook. Which you’d know, if you were also on Facebook.
As for food, I’ve got several offerings for you. First, I made homemade chorizo that I really, really liked. I made the recipe out of the Charcuterie book by Michael Ruhlman, et al. It’s got a solid flavor to begin with, but I substituted sherry vinegar for the red wine, and tripled the chipotle powder. They went into natural casings, and ended up spicy, tangy, and right up my flavor alley. I took some into school and chef said the flavor was good, but they needed more fat. Whatev, guy. They were juicy enough, and not all sausage has to explode when you cut into it like Marlon Brando.
Second, I ordered duck fat, duck legs, duck breasts, and duck prosciutto from Hudson Valley Farms for ridiculously cheap. I’m going to do confit this week, if I can get the chutzpah together. I’m really afraid I’ll screw it up, and I’ve never done it. A classmate (thank you, Kyle) made me a recipe card with an idea of how to do it, mostly because I promised him he could take a leg home if he prevented me from jacking it up. I opened the prosciutto tonight, and O. M. F. G. I say this knowing I’ll probably be beaten around the head and neck with cured meats, but I liked it far better than regular prosciutto. It’s assertive and delicious and creamy, and if you put it on pizza, the fat sizzles out and coats the entire pizza with a gentle flavor whisper of duck fat, which is basically like mother nature “experiencing ecstasy” all over your dinner, but not gross, you know? Who wouldn’t like that? I ask you!
I also threw down a big mojito cake to take into class, which was really good at home, but when I took it to class the next day, the frosting had mellowed out too much, and it tasted a little too much like butter and not enough like sugar and lime. Still, decent, just I’ve had better (and made better). Next time, I’ll add more lime powder. The cake itself is from Warren Brown’s CakeLove, which is my all time favorite cake baking book.
Oh, and in case you ever have an extra ribeye or two, and want to make philly cheesesteaks, may I highly recommend buying a loaf of the fresh garlic bread from your local grocery store and using that instead of regular bread for the…bread? Because it was freaking life-changing, is why. And vegetarian spaghetti, because it’s not ALWAYS about duck fat and cheese. Just usually. I used garlic croutons (fresh) instead of garlic bread, and it added a really nice crunch. The sauce was just a simple basil-tomato.
I WILL post again tomorrow, I swear. Even if it’s just me showing you pictures of cookies and complaining