Our friend, Tall Jay, not to be confused with Small Jay, has hosted "formal Sunday" for the last couple of years. We get all dressed up and watch football. This year, he's taken "formal" to another level. Last year, formal meant no jeans, suits for boys, cute dresses or slacks for girl. This year, "formal" for the girls means sequins and pearls. Omg. The formal part of formal Sunday was cancelled today. Mainly because it was cold as balls. So. For future weeks, I can pull out my turquoise dress from my friend Amy's Bat Mitzvah in 1993. It's amazing. Somewhere on my old blog, there's a picture, but I'm too lazy to go find it right now. Picture this... knee length with layers of tulle under the skirt, sequined sweetheart neckline, puffy off the shoulder sleeves. Fashion plate, baby.
Anyway. Jay grilled burgers tonight. Everyone in the free world knows I cannot eat a hamburger without pickles. Not happening. So before I went over to Jay's, I asked... do you have pickles. Yes. Okay.
What did he have? Dill. Pickle. SPEARS. How the balls am I supposed to enjoy a hamburger (which is merely a vessel for pickles) with SPEARS? Omg. Yes, he got yelled at.
Not only do I need approximately 10-12 pickles per hamburger, they have to be placed in just the right position to ensure at least one pickle per bite of burger. If they fall out, they're replaced. They have to be the right temperature and the right thickness. I'm sort of pickle snob. Clearly.
Showing posts with label Cooking. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Cooking. Show all posts
Monday, November 26, 2012
Saturday, November 24, 2012
Small appliance? I think not.
So something happened a few days ago and it's still very much on my mind. Maybe some of you have experienced this...
Thursday we went down to Bob's Aunt and Uncle's house in South Carolina for Thanksgiving dinner. It was a last minute decision since we weren't able to get back to Louisiana for the holiday.
We arrived at their house and they were already cooking. We all hung out in the kitchen, talking, nibbling, cooking. Aunt has a double oven and both were working overtime. I saw casseroles and cookies and pies coming and going from both. All of a sudden it dawned on me... Where's the turkey? There had been a turkey discussion, so I knew there was one involved somewhere. I know there are lots of ways to cook a turkey, so I started asking. Is the turkey being smoked? No. Being fried? No. Being roasted on a spit in the back yard? No. That's when Uncle lead me into the dining room/foyer.
Set up on a large card table, was the largest, most massive microwave I've ever seen. Turns out, it's a 1984 model. So that still begs the question... where's the turkey? IN THE MICROWAVE. They fully cooked a whole turkey IN THE MICROWAVE. Even more fascinating, they wrapped portions of it in aluminum foil. FOIL!! IN THE MICROWAVE. And it didn't blow up. And the turkey fully cooked. IN THE MICROWAVE. I'm obvs still flabbergasted by this.
The turkey was cooked appropriately and tasted very good. I have to say, I still prefer mine fried, but now I have a back up for when the fryer and oven are busy. IN THE MICROWAVE.
Have you ever had a microwaved turkey? I can now say... I have.
Thursday we went down to Bob's Aunt and Uncle's house in South Carolina for Thanksgiving dinner. It was a last minute decision since we weren't able to get back to Louisiana for the holiday.
We arrived at their house and they were already cooking. We all hung out in the kitchen, talking, nibbling, cooking. Aunt has a double oven and both were working overtime. I saw casseroles and cookies and pies coming and going from both. All of a sudden it dawned on me... Where's the turkey? There had been a turkey discussion, so I knew there was one involved somewhere. I know there are lots of ways to cook a turkey, so I started asking. Is the turkey being smoked? No. Being fried? No. Being roasted on a spit in the back yard? No. That's when Uncle lead me into the dining room/foyer.
Set up on a large card table, was the largest, most massive microwave I've ever seen. Turns out, it's a 1984 model. So that still begs the question... where's the turkey? IN THE MICROWAVE. They fully cooked a whole turkey IN THE MICROWAVE. Even more fascinating, they wrapped portions of it in aluminum foil. FOIL!! IN THE MICROWAVE. And it didn't blow up. And the turkey fully cooked. IN THE MICROWAVE. I'm obvs still flabbergasted by this.
The turkey was cooked appropriately and tasted very good. I have to say, I still prefer mine fried, but now I have a back up for when the fryer and oven are busy. IN THE MICROWAVE.
Have you ever had a microwaved turkey? I can now say... I have.
Tuesday, October 30, 2012
Me oh my oh!
So. This is a light hearted/regularly bitchy post, but please know I've been a bundle of nerves on behalf of the entire northeast. I've checked in with all the people I know and everyone is fine. I know others are not. That others have homes to rebuild and lives to restructure. I understand your road ahead. I've been there, with 13 feet of floodwaters in my house, in a city mangled by mother nature, with no idea of how to start the process. Stay strong. Move forward. Rebuild.
We've had a cold front in North Carolina. As you've probably seen, as Sandy moved North, a cold front came in her wake. Our temperature hovered around 50 degrees today, which to me, means I need to eat spicy food. Soooo. Cajun dinner for one planned by 10am. But then I didn't want loads of leftovers and invited some friends over to help consume.
I made jambalaya and crawfish pies. And yes, I've been singing this song all gd day long. I didn't make the file gumbo, but the rest was good enough without it. So I went to Walmart to get my crawfish tails for the pies. I grabbed an onion while I was there. But guess what? No onion when I got home. This is ONE of the reasons I hate Walmart. I think they do shit like this on purpose. They put ONE EFFING ONION in a bag by itself, on the bag turn style, you think you grab everything, but leave the onion behind. It's a conspiracy I tell you.
So I left Walmart and ran by the Teeter to get pie shells. Walmart doesn't sell the minis. Got home, couldn't find the onion, went back to Teeter. In the freezing ass cold rain. Not happy. So I get home with all my ingrediences, and open the crawfish tails. CUE JACK GOING NUTS. He's a cat. Of course he loves all seafood, particularly crawfish. A result of living in Louisiana for too long, I guess. So as Jack is sprinting through our house, across the bar, and attempts to dive into the sink, I'm cooking. Mass chaos.
Dinner was great. Friends were awesome. Evening is complete.
We've had a cold front in North Carolina. As you've probably seen, as Sandy moved North, a cold front came in her wake. Our temperature hovered around 50 degrees today, which to me, means I need to eat spicy food. Soooo. Cajun dinner for one planned by 10am. But then I didn't want loads of leftovers and invited some friends over to help consume.
I made jambalaya and crawfish pies. And yes, I've been singing this song all gd day long. I didn't make the file gumbo, but the rest was good enough without it. So I went to Walmart to get my crawfish tails for the pies. I grabbed an onion while I was there. But guess what? No onion when I got home. This is ONE of the reasons I hate Walmart. I think they do shit like this on purpose. They put ONE EFFING ONION in a bag by itself, on the bag turn style, you think you grab everything, but leave the onion behind. It's a conspiracy I tell you.
So I left Walmart and ran by the Teeter to get pie shells. Walmart doesn't sell the minis. Got home, couldn't find the onion, went back to Teeter. In the freezing ass cold rain. Not happy. So I get home with all my ingrediences, and open the crawfish tails. CUE JACK GOING NUTS. He's a cat. Of course he loves all seafood, particularly crawfish. A result of living in Louisiana for too long, I guess. So as Jack is sprinting through our house, across the bar, and attempts to dive into the sink, I'm cooking. Mass chaos.
Dinner was great. Friends were awesome. Evening is complete.
Thursday, March 15, 2012
Diet Dr. Pepper. As a garnish?
So I'm sick. Like sinus infection, snot dripping, hacking up nastiness sick. I know ya'll wanted those details. You're welcome.
The other night I made my dinner, rotisserie chicken and green beans. I reached to grab THE SALT SHAKER, but missed it and grabbed my OPEN Diet Dr. Pepper instead. Before I realized it, I had doused my beautiful plate of rotisserie chicken and green beans with.. Diet Dr. Pepper. Not happy.
As I was replacing my soaked chicken and green beans with dry chicken and green beans, I remembered another such occasion when I wasn't lucky enough to have dry food... One of my childhood friends, Julie Beard, and I went to Pizza Inn before a football game, sometime around 5th-ish grade. I accidentally spilled my full entire glass of Dr. Pepper onto our freshly made pizza. And my Daddy made us eat it anyway. Ohmygah. I was soo embarrassed! Oh the humiliation of eating Dr. Pepper soaked pizza!
Being a decision making adult (who soaked their dinner) made me truly appreciate my... adulthood. If my Daddy had been there, he probably would have made me eat the first plate. Gah. Parents can be so mean.
The other night I made my dinner, rotisserie chicken and green beans. I reached to grab THE SALT SHAKER, but missed it and grabbed my OPEN Diet Dr. Pepper instead. Before I realized it, I had doused my beautiful plate of rotisserie chicken and green beans with.. Diet Dr. Pepper. Not happy.
As I was replacing my soaked chicken and green beans with dry chicken and green beans, I remembered another such occasion when I wasn't lucky enough to have dry food... One of my childhood friends, Julie Beard, and I went to Pizza Inn before a football game, sometime around 5th-ish grade. I accidentally spilled my full entire glass of Dr. Pepper onto our freshly made pizza. And my Daddy made us eat it anyway. Ohmygah. I was soo embarrassed! Oh the humiliation of eating Dr. Pepper soaked pizza!
Being a decision making adult (who soaked their dinner) made me truly appreciate my... adulthood. If my Daddy had been there, he probably would have made me eat the first plate. Gah. Parents can be so mean.
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