Tuesday, November 18, 2008
This Blog Was Written By A Man?
By the way, I keep four different blogs, and, when the Gender Analyzer told me that the first one was written by a man, I thought it must be a fluke. But...the next three as well? Pray tell, what is so manly about my writing style?
It Was A Weekend of Cooking!
Like none other. My feet literally hurt from standing in the kitchen for so many hours. It started on Thursday night, at Townhouse Tavern in Dupont Circle, where, at 1 am, I told the bartender I was in the mood for something fruity, preferably with mango in it. She said that any other night, she wouldn't have been able to help me, but just happened to have the perfect juice. She pulled out a bottle of Tropicana Pure Valencia Orange Juice with Mango, which is about $5 at the grocery store, and completely worth it. She mixed it with Stoli Orange and a little bit of ginger ale, to give it some fizz, although that's completely optional. God knows how many I had, and I woke up the next morning with a pounding headache because I failed to hydrate myself. Not because of this semi-healthy beverage, however!
I've gone through almost two bottles of Tropicana Pure since then--not mixed with alcohol, and I'm not getting sick of it anytime soon! I altered the drink recipe a bit, just to suit my preference of tequila over vodka...and the fact that I'm too poor/cheap to have both!
3 Parts Tropicana Pure
1 1/2 Part Tequila
1 Part ginger ale or Sprite
The next day, after making myself some eggs and tater tots and swallowing my ibuprofen with about a gallon of water, I cooked a pork roast in balsalmic orange sauce. I was quite proud of myself--I've never cooked a freakin' pork roast! That's something my grandmother would do...I had no idea what I was doing! However, because of that, I actually felt challenged in the kitchen for the first time. It came out delicious, and, slow cooked in the oven at a low temperature for hours, pork roast pulls perfectly, and can taste "like pork flavored butter," as some woman on the internet put it, when the internal temperature reaches 200 degrees. I don't have a meat thermometer, so I had just to guess, and I took it out when the meat pulled easily with a fork and there was no pink left.
On Saturday, I made Moroccan Chicken with Dates with a friend, and was highly disappointed to find that it was largely the same recipe I had already been using for Moroccan Chicken, just with dates instead of apricots, and with a ras al hanout mixture, instead of garam masala, which I couldn't tell the difference between. Both recipes are good, however, I prefer my old standby, which includes tomatoes, chick peas and raisins.
What really stood out was the Roasted Red Pepper Pesto Crostini. For crostini, you can use whatever bread is lying around, although I can't imagine that Mrs. Baird's white bread would be very good, but, who eats that stuff these days anyway? Before baking it, I dip the bread in olive oil on either side, which, I'm sure, negates any of the healthy qualities of using whole grain bread, but it sure does make it easier for me to trick myself into thinking it's good for me! The crostini, with olive oil, sea salt, and garlic, is delicious by itself as a decadent snack, but can be turned into a real treat with the pesto, which actually looks quite festive, and would like great in a Christmas spread.
The great cooking weekend was unfortunately marked by a tragedy. The worst kind of tragedy, too--a pie tragedy. :( Just don't ever slide a pie around on the counter, as though you're Tom Cruise in Cocktail. Doesn't end well.
I've gone through almost two bottles of Tropicana Pure since then--not mixed with alcohol, and I'm not getting sick of it anytime soon! I altered the drink recipe a bit, just to suit my preference of tequila over vodka...and the fact that I'm too poor/cheap to have both!
3 Parts Tropicana Pure
1 1/2 Part Tequila
1 Part ginger ale or Sprite
The next day, after making myself some eggs and tater tots and swallowing my ibuprofen with about a gallon of water, I cooked a pork roast in balsalmic orange sauce. I was quite proud of myself--I've never cooked a freakin' pork roast! That's something my grandmother would do...I had no idea what I was doing! However, because of that, I actually felt challenged in the kitchen for the first time. It came out delicious, and, slow cooked in the oven at a low temperature for hours, pork roast pulls perfectly, and can taste "like pork flavored butter," as some woman on the internet put it, when the internal temperature reaches 200 degrees. I don't have a meat thermometer, so I had just to guess, and I took it out when the meat pulled easily with a fork and there was no pink left.
On Saturday, I made Moroccan Chicken with Dates with a friend, and was highly disappointed to find that it was largely the same recipe I had already been using for Moroccan Chicken, just with dates instead of apricots, and with a ras al hanout mixture, instead of garam masala, which I couldn't tell the difference between. Both recipes are good, however, I prefer my old standby, which includes tomatoes, chick peas and raisins.
What really stood out was the Roasted Red Pepper Pesto Crostini. For crostini, you can use whatever bread is lying around, although I can't imagine that Mrs. Baird's white bread would be very good, but, who eats that stuff these days anyway? Before baking it, I dip the bread in olive oil on either side, which, I'm sure, negates any of the healthy qualities of using whole grain bread, but it sure does make it easier for me to trick myself into thinking it's good for me! The crostini, with olive oil, sea salt, and garlic, is delicious by itself as a decadent snack, but can be turned into a real treat with the pesto, which actually looks quite festive, and would like great in a Christmas spread.
The great cooking weekend was unfortunately marked by a tragedy. The worst kind of tragedy, too--a pie tragedy. :( Just don't ever slide a pie around on the counter, as though you're Tom Cruise in Cocktail. Doesn't end well.
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Thanks, Sarah
I've always wondered how long I needed glasses before I found out that I did. The transformation was amazing--who knew that you were supposed to be able to see each, individual leaf on a tree? And that the font my teacher used in PowerPoint presentations wasn't really that small? And, while I know the practical uses far outweigh the aesthetic, as someone who doesn't like to wear jewelry, being able to accessorize with eyeware presented a fabulous opportunity! Yes, despite the obvious hassles like dirty lenses and no peripheral vision, I was glad to wear glasses. I wouldn't have had it any other way...
Until this one episode of Will & Grace, where Will's response to Jack's new glasses is "boys don't kiss girls who wear glasses." I was a sophomore in college, and had never had a boyfriend or, really, made out with anyone, and I was feeling more and more everyday like there was something "wrong" with me. When I heard that phrase, I felt my cheeks burn with embarrassment, and I surreptitiously looked around the room at my friends, hoping they wouldn't put these two obvious ideas together, as I just had. The next day, I asked my friend Zac if he'd ever liked a girl who wore glasses. He said no, and then I told him what I'd heard on Will & Grace, and that I was beginning to think that, maybe, contact lenses were the first step on the road to...you know.
He told me it was high time I got contacts.
The next day, I made an appointment with my eye doctor, to be fitted for contacts. Six months later, I started dating someone. It was a disaster of a relationship, and one that would cause me grief for the next two years, but, hey, sans glasses, I finally made out with a boy.
These days, I wear contacts most of the time anyway, especially when it's sunny, because I like to accessorize with sunglasses. However, in the winter, I'm more apt to sleep a little bit later and leave contacts out of my morning ritual.
Not on date nights, though.
Recently, while preparing for a date, I asked a friend to help me choose between two different outfits. It was an overcast, blustery day, so I wore my glasses to work, but threw my contacts in my purse as I left the apartment that morning. I groaned about having to go put them in, which would inevitably mess up my make-up. She said "dude, you look way cute in glasses!" And she's right--I've always loved the way I look in my glasses.
Just then, an image of Sarah Palin popped into my head. Even I have to admit that, while the woman may be horrendously ugly on the inside, she's pretty smokin' on the outside. And what would she be without her Kawasaki rimless glasses? Just another piece of Alaskan trailer trash! So, I'd like to take this opportunity to extend my thanks to Sarah Palin, for bringing back the sexy librarian look. Or, at least, helping me to come to terms with my own!
(Oh, and, by the way, that date ended with a kiss.)
PS - No, I still won't vote for you. And I think your daughter is a slut. Hell, you're probably a slut, too.
Until this one episode of Will & Grace, where Will's response to Jack's new glasses is "boys don't kiss girls who wear glasses." I was a sophomore in college, and had never had a boyfriend or, really, made out with anyone, and I was feeling more and more everyday like there was something "wrong" with me. When I heard that phrase, I felt my cheeks burn with embarrassment, and I surreptitiously looked around the room at my friends, hoping they wouldn't put these two obvious ideas together, as I just had. The next day, I asked my friend Zac if he'd ever liked a girl who wore glasses. He said no, and then I told him what I'd heard on Will & Grace, and that I was beginning to think that, maybe, contact lenses were the first step on the road to...you know.
He told me it was high time I got contacts.
The next day, I made an appointment with my eye doctor, to be fitted for contacts. Six months later, I started dating someone. It was a disaster of a relationship, and one that would cause me grief for the next two years, but, hey, sans glasses, I finally made out with a boy.
These days, I wear contacts most of the time anyway, especially when it's sunny, because I like to accessorize with sunglasses. However, in the winter, I'm more apt to sleep a little bit later and leave contacts out of my morning ritual.
Not on date nights, though.
Recently, while preparing for a date, I asked a friend to help me choose between two different outfits. It was an overcast, blustery day, so I wore my glasses to work, but threw my contacts in my purse as I left the apartment that morning. I groaned about having to go put them in, which would inevitably mess up my make-up. She said "dude, you look way cute in glasses!" And she's right--I've always loved the way I look in my glasses.
Just then, an image of Sarah Palin popped into my head. Even I have to admit that, while the woman may be horrendously ugly on the inside, she's pretty smokin' on the outside. And what would she be without her Kawasaki rimless glasses? Just another piece of Alaskan trailer trash! So, I'd like to take this opportunity to extend my thanks to Sarah Palin, for bringing back the sexy librarian look. Or, at least, helping me to come to terms with my own!
(Oh, and, by the way, that date ended with a kiss.)
PS - No, I still won't vote for you. And I think your daughter is a slut. Hell, you're probably a slut, too.
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
...What I've Learned So Far (in the kitchen)
1. Always double the amount of tomatoes. Nothing was ever ruined by having too many tomatoes.
2. Always halve the amount of oregano, parsley too. As benign as they seem, there's nothing worse than that leafy, dry, "too much parsley" flavor.
3. Stop adding ingredients when you feel like there's something missing. Put it away and start again tomorrow.
2. Always halve the amount of oregano, parsley too. As benign as they seem, there's nothing worse than that leafy, dry, "too much parsley" flavor.
3. Stop adding ingredients when you feel like there's something missing. Put it away and start again tomorrow.
Sunday, October 19, 2008
Someone Who Deserves More
Over the weekend, I met a man named Howard. He's 33, which, by today's standards, is very young. Yet, he seems so much older. While he shared some of his deepest, most personal thoughts, which I am now broadcasting on the internet, he admittedly is very shy. Howard is the type of man I can see, very carefully, making dinner for one, and settling down to watch the History Channel in the evenings. Despite the fact that he wants to settle down with the right woman and have a family, unlike most men in his age group in major metropolitan areas, he is not married, has never had a girlfriend, and is still a virgin. He is a man of utmost conviction. That I know of, he has never compromised his integrity to God or to himself. He admitted that he has thought many times of entering the priesthood, but knows that cannot give up his dream of having a family. In my eyes, Howard is not a particularly attractive man, but not unattractive. He is tall, large framed, and has a pleasant laugh and a friendly face. His eyes are especially kind, but have a hint of something else--a certain sadness that isn't perceptible upon first glance. He seems downtrodden. And it is nothing less than heartbreaking to watch.
This is a man who has so much to offer, and has truly lived his life at God's mercy, and, so far, that life has not included that which his heart desires, which is the noblest thing I know of. Dating experts, image consultants and anyone who proclaims to know "what women want," could provide a thousand reasons why Howard is single. He is too shy, perhaps he isn't the take-charge kind of guy. Maybe he's a bit nervous, and socially awkward. Maybe not dating enough has caused him to approach the opposite sex with trepidation, and, like how babies become disgruntled when held by people who feel uncomfortable around babies, women react adversely when they subconsciously pick up on Howard's nervousness. Maybe Howard doesn't know how to dance, and he needs Will Smith to teach him. Maybe the women that are drawn to Howard have different romantic goals than he does. Maybe they view sex differently than he does...I spent my weekend trying to think of ways in which, like Will Smith, I could comb Howard into a person that beautiful women would want to fall in love with. Because, let's face it, ladies--we need more men like Howard to to marry us, to raise our children, and to remind us that being a man means coming home to the same woman every night, making a living for his children, and never compromising his values. As Barack Obama once said, we need less baby daddies, and more fathers.
But, now that I think about it, that was actually pretty selfish of me. Howard even mentioned how he keeps politely declining a female friend's offers to "hook him up," and I missed his point entirely. Howard will not settle. He doesn't need or want to change himself in order to become someone he believes to be deserving of great love.
And now, as I sit here, in the dark, writing in exhaustion, unable to sleep because every time I close my eyes, I think of Howard sitting next to the campfire, enjoying the presence of others, but keeping to himself. As I drank too much wine and belted out the lyrics to "Sweet Caroline," and "I Will Survive," Howard sat, contemplating his own life as he stared into the glowing embers, whose warm glow caused everyone else to lower their inhibitions just a little bit.
As I recall Howard's silence, I'm filled with a deep sadness. I know Howard deserves so much more. And I admire him, I truly admire him for having such strong convictions, and for never compromising them.
Although it is the image of Howard's face that has been burned into my mind that reduces me to this blubbering mess, I know that I am not only crying for Howard, but for myself, too, and the parts of me that I see reflected in Howard, and also the parts of me that aren't enough like Howard. And for the fear that I could "end up," just like him.
This is a man who has so much to offer, and has truly lived his life at God's mercy, and, so far, that life has not included that which his heart desires, which is the noblest thing I know of. Dating experts, image consultants and anyone who proclaims to know "what women want," could provide a thousand reasons why Howard is single. He is too shy, perhaps he isn't the take-charge kind of guy. Maybe he's a bit nervous, and socially awkward. Maybe not dating enough has caused him to approach the opposite sex with trepidation, and, like how babies become disgruntled when held by people who feel uncomfortable around babies, women react adversely when they subconsciously pick up on Howard's nervousness. Maybe Howard doesn't know how to dance, and he needs Will Smith to teach him. Maybe the women that are drawn to Howard have different romantic goals than he does. Maybe they view sex differently than he does...I spent my weekend trying to think of ways in which, like Will Smith, I could comb Howard into a person that beautiful women would want to fall in love with. Because, let's face it, ladies--we need more men like Howard to to marry us, to raise our children, and to remind us that being a man means coming home to the same woman every night, making a living for his children, and never compromising his values. As Barack Obama once said, we need less baby daddies, and more fathers.
But, now that I think about it, that was actually pretty selfish of me. Howard even mentioned how he keeps politely declining a female friend's offers to "hook him up," and I missed his point entirely. Howard will not settle. He doesn't need or want to change himself in order to become someone he believes to be deserving of great love.
And now, as I sit here, in the dark, writing in exhaustion, unable to sleep because every time I close my eyes, I think of Howard sitting next to the campfire, enjoying the presence of others, but keeping to himself. As I drank too much wine and belted out the lyrics to "Sweet Caroline," and "I Will Survive," Howard sat, contemplating his own life as he stared into the glowing embers, whose warm glow caused everyone else to lower their inhibitions just a little bit.
As I recall Howard's silence, I'm filled with a deep sadness. I know Howard deserves so much more. And I admire him, I truly admire him for having such strong convictions, and for never compromising them.
Although it is the image of Howard's face that has been burned into my mind that reduces me to this blubbering mess, I know that I am not only crying for Howard, but for myself, too, and the parts of me that I see reflected in Howard, and also the parts of me that aren't enough like Howard. And for the fear that I could "end up," just like him.
Thursday, October 16, 2008
You Actually Take This Shit Seriously?
After about six months working at an organization that promotes media reform, I've come to the following conclusion about what people on television think: "the longer I can keep talking, the longer my dick will grow." Seriously, guys, STFU.
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
Friday, September 12, 2008
Validated!
I went to eat Moroccan food with a friend this afternoon, and left the restaurant feeling extremely validated to realize that the tagine kefta I've been cooking this week was far better than what they served. Also, to not even have cous cous on the buffet is just...unacceptable. No freshly baked bread, either!
We ended up talking quite a bit about cooking, and how the food we ate growing up and the way our parents cooked effects our desires to cook, as well as our taste buds--what appeals to us. My family encouraged me to eat all different kinds of foods, but I was somewhat unadventurous until college, when, after reading Holy Cow, I decided to try Indian food. After that, I never looked back, and have only avoided foods that contain the few things I knowingly dislike. (Cilantro and celery!) The great thing about cooking is that I can pick and choose ingredients, and leave out the cilantro or jalapenos when the recipe calls for it!
Growing up, my mom was the one who could be counted on to make good, quick meals that were always tasty, never too fancy, and Just What You Wanted. She makes a lot of chili, roasted vegetables, tacos...and mixes a damn good margarita. Recently, as part of a jihad against high fructose corn syrup, she began baking her own cakes for birthdays, and made a great Italian Cream Cake, Cheesecake, and Carrot Cake...although, we both would agree, probably not quite as good as the Whole Foods Carrot Cake!
However, while I certainly inherited my mother's ability to whip up a good, wholesome meal everyone can enjoy on the go, I think that my love for cooking and interest in trying new, complicated recipes comes from my dad. He is the one who will go to a restaurant, order something complicated (or not!), and say "hmm, this tastes interesting...I wonder what's in it..." and then decide to re-create it. He worked for years to re-create the sauce from a barbeque restaurant that he and my mom enjoyed in college. His recipe is only distributed among family members, and is occasionally given out to friends as wedding gifts! The sauce is handed out every Christmas, in cute little mason jars. I've been onto him to send me a case of sauce up here in DC! He seems to enjoy baking more than anything else, and once made me and my brother and sister spend a Saturday morning picking dewberries in a field outside our house, so that he could make dewberry pie! Another one of his staples, which he makes every holiday, are pralines with orange rind, and he once spent the day trying to re-create the cream frosting that comes inside a Shipley's cream filled do-nut! That was a hoot.
While I'm not a baker, and I'm not nearly skilled enough to re-create recipes from scratch, I seem to have inherited his fearlessness in the kitchen. I gather the ingredients before I even finish reading the recipe, which I generally don't do until I'm done cooking it! This becomes problematic when I find that I'm lacking an appliance to make a certain dish, but I always seem to find a way around that! Hmm, should I add "creative problem solver" to my resume?
We ended up talking quite a bit about cooking, and how the food we ate growing up and the way our parents cooked effects our desires to cook, as well as our taste buds--what appeals to us. My family encouraged me to eat all different kinds of foods, but I was somewhat unadventurous until college, when, after reading Holy Cow, I decided to try Indian food. After that, I never looked back, and have only avoided foods that contain the few things I knowingly dislike. (Cilantro and celery!) The great thing about cooking is that I can pick and choose ingredients, and leave out the cilantro or jalapenos when the recipe calls for it!
Growing up, my mom was the one who could be counted on to make good, quick meals that were always tasty, never too fancy, and Just What You Wanted. She makes a lot of chili, roasted vegetables, tacos...and mixes a damn good margarita. Recently, as part of a jihad against high fructose corn syrup, she began baking her own cakes for birthdays, and made a great Italian Cream Cake, Cheesecake, and Carrot Cake...although, we both would agree, probably not quite as good as the Whole Foods Carrot Cake!
However, while I certainly inherited my mother's ability to whip up a good, wholesome meal everyone can enjoy on the go, I think that my love for cooking and interest in trying new, complicated recipes comes from my dad. He is the one who will go to a restaurant, order something complicated (or not!), and say "hmm, this tastes interesting...I wonder what's in it..." and then decide to re-create it. He worked for years to re-create the sauce from a barbeque restaurant that he and my mom enjoyed in college. His recipe is only distributed among family members, and is occasionally given out to friends as wedding gifts! The sauce is handed out every Christmas, in cute little mason jars. I've been onto him to send me a case of sauce up here in DC! He seems to enjoy baking more than anything else, and once made me and my brother and sister spend a Saturday morning picking dewberries in a field outside our house, so that he could make dewberry pie! Another one of his staples, which he makes every holiday, are pralines with orange rind, and he once spent the day trying to re-create the cream frosting that comes inside a Shipley's cream filled do-nut! That was a hoot.
While I'm not a baker, and I'm not nearly skilled enough to re-create recipes from scratch, I seem to have inherited his fearlessness in the kitchen. I gather the ingredients before I even finish reading the recipe, which I generally don't do until I'm done cooking it! This becomes problematic when I find that I'm lacking an appliance to make a certain dish, but I always seem to find a way around that! Hmm, should I add "creative problem solver" to my resume?
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
Remember Ren and Stimpy?
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
Things That Make Me Laugh, Cry, and Cringe
So, I live in the city. I use public transportation, and I don't have a car. I walk, at the least, 2 miles a day. Ever since I moved here, shoe shopping has become an entirely different experience. When I find a cute pair of shoes, instead of asking if I could see myself strutting around the bars in them, I ask if I could see myself walking the half-mile from my apartment to the Metro stop, climbing the 3-story escalator, and hiking home when I inevitably stay out past midnight and can't get home on the Metro. Thank god flats came back into style. But, for those days when I can't even face those, there's an answer! (Zomg, I'm totally kidding, guys. Do you really think I'd go around with those stupid springs on my shoes?)
Anyway...let's get on to the baby mama drama. Can I just say that the fact that John McCain's campaign has turned into an episode of Jerry Springer is, like, the best thing that could have ever happened? Seriously. It feels like Christmas...on ecstasy...at 6 Flags...getting laid! Although, I have to thank McCain, Palin, and, of course, Bristol and Levi for making my job way more interesting for the next few months. I mean, if I thought the 1998 hairclip was blog worthy, this is priceless. Hugsies!
I have to ask, though, isn't there something about the name Bristol that makes it really easy to envision a bunch of high school jocks sitting around the lunch table talking about what a slut she is? Ahh, well...we should support the union and send a beautiful gift from their registry. I've got dibs on the Levi's towel!
On a serious note, if choosing a floozy like Palin was McCain's first major decision, and he didn't even check into her credentials, how is he going to handle presidential decisions? Secondly, are they seriously going to act as though a teenage pregnancy is not just ok, but something to celebrate, just as long as Bristol and Levi get married? What about setting an example for the rest of the country? I'm not a parent, so I'm not sure if I'm really qualified to comment on this, but I respect the Palin's decision to not turn their daughter away during this stressful time in her life. However, they can't proceed as though everything is just hunky dory. Please have the decency to give us some speeches about the difficulties of parenting, and admit that, while there's really no arguing that abstinence is the best way to prevent pregnancy, it doesn't work out like that for everyone, and there are other alternatives.
Anyway...let's get on to the baby mama drama. Can I just say that the fact that John McCain's campaign has turned into an episode of Jerry Springer is, like, the best thing that could have ever happened? Seriously. It feels like Christmas...on ecstasy...at 6 Flags...getting laid! Although, I have to thank McCain, Palin, and, of course, Bristol and Levi for making my job way more interesting for the next few months. I mean, if I thought the 1998 hairclip was blog worthy, this is priceless. Hugsies!
I have to ask, though, isn't there something about the name Bristol that makes it really easy to envision a bunch of high school jocks sitting around the lunch table talking about what a slut she is? Ahh, well...we should support the union and send a beautiful gift from their registry. I've got dibs on the Levi's towel!
On a serious note, if choosing a floozy like Palin was McCain's first major decision, and he didn't even check into her credentials, how is he going to handle presidential decisions? Secondly, are they seriously going to act as though a teenage pregnancy is not just ok, but something to celebrate, just as long as Bristol and Levi get married? What about setting an example for the rest of the country? I'm not a parent, so I'm not sure if I'm really qualified to comment on this, but I respect the Palin's decision to not turn their daughter away during this stressful time in her life. However, they can't proceed as though everything is just hunky dory. Please have the decency to give us some speeches about the difficulties of parenting, and admit that, while there's really no arguing that abstinence is the best way to prevent pregnancy, it doesn't work out like that for everyone, and there are other alternatives.
Monday, September 1, 2008
Once Upon A Time...
Once upon a time, there was a little girl who lived in a small town with her Mommy and Daddy and her little brother and sister. She loved them all very, very much, and she was very happy living with them. Happy as she was, though, this little girl wished and dreamed for something more. She dreamt of going to the big city. She dreamt of traveling the world. She knew that there were so many things to see, and her Daddy told her that she was right, but that she would have to work very, very hard in school first.
So, the little girl, one day when she wasn't quite as little anymore, decided that she would only be satisfied with the very, very best. She stayed up night after night, studying as hard as she could, so that she could, one day, leave the small town she loved so very, very much and move to a big city and travel across the world. She had friends, some of them very good friends, but they all came and went, and the little girl didn't care very much, because she knew that all she had to do was to work hard, just like her Daddy said.
The little girl did very, very well, and accomplished many things. Everyone was very proud of her. When she was a young woman, she moved away from the small town and went to school in a city--not quite as big as the city she had always dreamed of, but "it'll do, for now," she thought. She liked to watch movies about bigger girls in bigger cities, who had lots of beautiful clothes and shoes, and friends to shop, eat, and go dancing with, and who would hug them if they were sad.
The little girl knew she had to keep working hard, but watching these movies made her a little bit lonely, so she decided to make some friends. Her friends made her very, very happy, but soon they all began to move to the big, big city. The little girl was very lonely and sad without them. Then, one day, she had the best idea! She decided that she would go to the big, big city, too!
So, when the little girl was no longer a little girl anymore, but a grown woman, she packed her bags and moved to the big, big city. She was never scared, as she had always imagined she would be, because she had so many friends to shop, eat, and go dancing with, and they would hug her if she was sad.
The little girl finally lived in the big, big city! All her dreams had come true! She ate the finest food, shopped at the finest stores, and went dancing at the finest places. She had the very best friends, too. The very best. The little girl's life was perfect!
The only problem was that most of her friends worked very, very hard, too--sometimes too hard, the little girl thought. That was the problem with people in the big, big city, the little girl realized. They all have to work very, very hard, because that's what people in big cities do. Sometimes, they don't have very much time for their friends, and it made the little girl sad. It was easy to keep making new friends, but the little girl didn't want to spend the rest of her life making new friends.
She began to think about her Mommy and Daddy, and how they loved each other very, very much. She realized that she wanted to love someone very, very much, too, and that she wanted him to love her back very, very much. She told this to her friends in the big, big city, but they didn't understand. They were too busy. The little girl, who was not a little girl anymore, and hadn't been for quite awhile now, realized that she wanted to fall in love. And, the little girl who wasn't so little anymore, realized that sometimes, the big, big city is not the place you want to be when you realize that you want to fall in love.
So, the little girl decided to leave the big, big city. She didn't know where she would go, but she hoped that she would live happily ever after.
So, the little girl, one day when she wasn't quite as little anymore, decided that she would only be satisfied with the very, very best. She stayed up night after night, studying as hard as she could, so that she could, one day, leave the small town she loved so very, very much and move to a big city and travel across the world. She had friends, some of them very good friends, but they all came and went, and the little girl didn't care very much, because she knew that all she had to do was to work hard, just like her Daddy said.
The little girl did very, very well, and accomplished many things. Everyone was very proud of her. When she was a young woman, she moved away from the small town and went to school in a city--not quite as big as the city she had always dreamed of, but "it'll do, for now," she thought. She liked to watch movies about bigger girls in bigger cities, who had lots of beautiful clothes and shoes, and friends to shop, eat, and go dancing with, and who would hug them if they were sad.
The little girl knew she had to keep working hard, but watching these movies made her a little bit lonely, so she decided to make some friends. Her friends made her very, very happy, but soon they all began to move to the big, big city. The little girl was very lonely and sad without them. Then, one day, she had the best idea! She decided that she would go to the big, big city, too!
So, when the little girl was no longer a little girl anymore, but a grown woman, she packed her bags and moved to the big, big city. She was never scared, as she had always imagined she would be, because she had so many friends to shop, eat, and go dancing with, and they would hug her if she was sad.
The little girl finally lived in the big, big city! All her dreams had come true! She ate the finest food, shopped at the finest stores, and went dancing at the finest places. She had the very best friends, too. The very best. The little girl's life was perfect!
The only problem was that most of her friends worked very, very hard, too--sometimes too hard, the little girl thought. That was the problem with people in the big, big city, the little girl realized. They all have to work very, very hard, because that's what people in big cities do. Sometimes, they don't have very much time for their friends, and it made the little girl sad. It was easy to keep making new friends, but the little girl didn't want to spend the rest of her life making new friends.
She began to think about her Mommy and Daddy, and how they loved each other very, very much. She realized that she wanted to love someone very, very much, too, and that she wanted him to love her back very, very much. She told this to her friends in the big, big city, but they didn't understand. They were too busy. The little girl, who was not a little girl anymore, and hadn't been for quite awhile now, realized that she wanted to fall in love. And, the little girl who wasn't so little anymore, realized that sometimes, the big, big city is not the place you want to be when you realize that you want to fall in love.
So, the little girl decided to leave the big, big city. She didn't know where she would go, but she hoped that she would live happily ever after.
Palin: Party Like It's 1998
It's not really something I plan on losing a lot of sleep over, but I will admit that I'm slightly worried about the following scenario: John McCain gets elected, dies, and then Sarah Palin becomes the president. I mean, COME ON, it's like electing my mother vice president! Apparently, what Hillary Clinton's historic "18,000 cracks in the glass ceiling" bid for the presidency actually means, is that any soccer mom with boxy suits and a bouffant (left), as though it where 1998, is qualified to run the country! And I don't even like Hillary Clinton, nor do I think she's all that historic. And, a minor in Women's Studies gives me the right to say so...although, I also like it when guys open the door for me and buy my dinner, so I'm not exactly sure how much credibility I have left in that area.
And don't even get me started on Cindy McCain...if I had 6 million dollars, and my husband called me a "cunt" aboard the campaign plane that I was paying for, I would eject him without a parachute. It's bad enough that the poor woman actually has to have sex with John McCain, but, no, she has to be subjected to abusive language while she squanders away her hard-earned (well, ok, let's not get carried away...) cash paying on his stupid campaign transportation.
I wouldn't mind going to a John McCain rally, just so I could slip her a note saying "I'm so sorry!" At least she knows how to dress, though. And, if you hadn't noticed, three days after Palin came on board, she lost the bouffant (right) and was sporting new glasses. Well, if no other good comes out of this, at least the poor woman got a makeover.
Saturday, August 30, 2008
Whoohoo, I've Decided What I'm Going to Do With My Life!
After closing down my kitchen at 10:15 on a Saturday night, after a full day of cooking--the Chicken Cacciatore turned out amazing--a friend humorously pointed out, if all I do these days is cook for people and work out, how is it that I'm still single? (Especially given the fact that I fully intend on having sex everyday once I'm in a relationship.) Haha, my friend was right--isn't that every man's dream? ;) Ahh, well...
Now, about that Chicken Cacciatore...I started with a jar of Paul Newman's Cabernet Marinara sauce, which is my favorite--some of the others taste a little weird, I think. I let that simmer on the stove for about half an hour, and added some garlic, fresh basil leaves, mushrooms and onions. I peeled the meat off a pre-cooked rotisserie chicken, and tossed it into a large pan. Then, I added two chopped onions, 10 oz. chopped mushrooms, a can of diced tomatoes and 3 tbsp. of olive oil. It was looking thick, so after it simmered for awhile, I poured in some chicken broth. It cooked it until the sauce started to burn around the edges of the pot, my favorite, and it was absolutely to die for. This will freeze well, and just get better and better as the week goes on. Can't wait!
So, apart from my cooking, I've been busy making a major life decision! ASAP, I'm going to apply to photography school at Ohio University in Athens, OH. I read awhile back about their School of Visual Communications, which sounds top-notch, and I balked at the fact that it was in Ohio. But, after visiting the website and being totally blown away by some of the student work, I read up on Athens. It's a cute little town, and by little, I mean the nearest Whole Foods, Target, and Ann Taylor Loft (the three stores I can't do without) are a little over an hour away...but that's ok. They have a cute downtown area and lots of outdoorsy things to do...Burlington, VT is echoing through my head. It's very dog-friendly, and they have a vibrant arts scene, lots of local grocery stores, farmers markets, shops and restaurants. Plus, Ohio University was rated by US News and World Report to be one of the top ten most attractive campuses in the nation, which is important if you're going to be taking a lot of pictures. Also, get this, in Ohio, they have four distinct seasons! I've heard of this...but haven't ever actually lived in a place that had them. DC this past year was just really cold...and then really hot. Oh, except for the rainy season. Well, that's actually not been so much a "season" as it has rained almost everyday, but that's not important.
Anyway, it's taken me a long time to realize that I want to do photography, and I know it's going to be a challenge to make a living at it, but that is something that working a desk job for the past six months has made me ready to accept. I don't like sitting around all day--being sentient. It sucks the life out of me. Not to sound depressing, though. I know this track will make me very, very happy and leave me feeling fulfilled everyday. I'm still planning to learn Arabic, as much as I can, and, as a photographer, as far as choosing places where I'd want to travel, my main interest will definitely be the Middle East and North Africa. I just won't be caught up in the racket of the Middle East Studies degree, which may or may not be useful in ten years, whereas photography is forever.
Now, about that Chicken Cacciatore...I started with a jar of Paul Newman's Cabernet Marinara sauce, which is my favorite--some of the others taste a little weird, I think. I let that simmer on the stove for about half an hour, and added some garlic, fresh basil leaves, mushrooms and onions. I peeled the meat off a pre-cooked rotisserie chicken, and tossed it into a large pan. Then, I added two chopped onions, 10 oz. chopped mushrooms, a can of diced tomatoes and 3 tbsp. of olive oil. It was looking thick, so after it simmered for awhile, I poured in some chicken broth. It cooked it until the sauce started to burn around the edges of the pot, my favorite, and it was absolutely to die for. This will freeze well, and just get better and better as the week goes on. Can't wait!
So, apart from my cooking, I've been busy making a major life decision! ASAP, I'm going to apply to photography school at Ohio University in Athens, OH. I read awhile back about their School of Visual Communications, which sounds top-notch, and I balked at the fact that it was in Ohio. But, after visiting the website and being totally blown away by some of the student work, I read up on Athens. It's a cute little town, and by little, I mean the nearest Whole Foods, Target, and Ann Taylor Loft (the three stores I can't do without) are a little over an hour away...but that's ok. They have a cute downtown area and lots of outdoorsy things to do...Burlington, VT is echoing through my head. It's very dog-friendly, and they have a vibrant arts scene, lots of local grocery stores, farmers markets, shops and restaurants. Plus, Ohio University was rated by US News and World Report to be one of the top ten most attractive campuses in the nation, which is important if you're going to be taking a lot of pictures. Also, get this, in Ohio, they have four distinct seasons! I've heard of this...but haven't ever actually lived in a place that had them. DC this past year was just really cold...and then really hot. Oh, except for the rainy season. Well, that's actually not been so much a "season" as it has rained almost everyday, but that's not important.
Anyway, it's taken me a long time to realize that I want to do photography, and I know it's going to be a challenge to make a living at it, but that is something that working a desk job for the past six months has made me ready to accept. I don't like sitting around all day--being sentient. It sucks the life out of me. Not to sound depressing, though. I know this track will make me very, very happy and leave me feeling fulfilled everyday. I'm still planning to learn Arabic, as much as I can, and, as a photographer, as far as choosing places where I'd want to travel, my main interest will definitely be the Middle East and North Africa. I just won't be caught up in the racket of the Middle East Studies degree, which may or may not be useful in ten years, whereas photography is forever.
Friday, August 29, 2008
That Do-Nut is Mocking Me
As I mentioned earlier, I've been doing a lot of cooking lately, and I feel the need to brag about my creations. :) (Keep in mind that, with the exception of a few months after I moved into my first kitchen, I, up until about a month ago, considered sloppy joes on crackers to be a quality, home-cooked meal.)
On Wednesday, I made a chicken salsa verde with a sour cream sauce, sprinkled with feta. I'm not eating carbs right now, so this is an excellent dish because the salsa verde sauce (I used Ortega) is very low in carbs. Heated up, it makes a quick, filling breakfast, if you can stomach chicken in the morning. (I can stomach anything, anyime.) As with most things, I think this would be delicious served on a bed of arugula.
Earlier in the week, I bought a pound of frozen, cooked shrimp from Giant and could hardly choke them down...I didn't think there could be so much of a difference between farm-raise and wild-caught shrimp, but, boy, was I wrong...yesterday, after work, I bought a couple of pounds of frozen, uncooked "pink pearl" shrimp caught in the Florida Keys. They were delicious, and their attractive pink color made handling them so much easier to stomach. They didn't even smell bad!
They turned out delicious, and, after thawing, I cooked them in olive oil with sea salt and ground pepper. Last night, I made a black bean sauce, with avocado, lime juice, cumin and chipotle seasoning. I served this warm, and made a cold avocado, onion and orange salsa to go with it. I sprinkled feta and fresh tomatoes on top, and served on a bed of arugula. This has been my most delicious creation, and I would absolutely serve it at a dinner party.
I'm planning to spend the weekend cooking...between a friend's visit, a few too many trips to Ann Taylor Loft, buying a bed, and the impulse purchase of a fabulous mirrored side table, I have about $250 to last me until the 15th of September! That means no nomming out...which is sad, and will be quite a feat if I can pull it off, since nomming out is my absolute favorite! However, I'm feeling equally excited about the meals I'm planning to cook. I've spent the week purusing Epicurious and Williams Sonoma for recipes. I'm planning to cook 3-4 low fat meat dishes that will freeze well, so I can easily bring my lunch to work. If I can start curing the tagine tonight, (you have to soak new tagines in water for twenty-four hours before using them, or else they will crack) then I will make tagine kefta, or Moroccan Meatballs. Additionally, I'm planning to make Chicken Cacciatore with Roasted Garlic Sauce, Chicken in Carmelized Onion and Merlot Sauce, and 6 Hour Chili. It's supposed to rain all weekend, so I can't wait to curl up on the couch with a book and waft in that delicious chili smell.
And...while we're on the subject of cooking, let's just take a few moments to make fun of ourselves. ;)
On Wednesday, I made a chicken salsa verde with a sour cream sauce, sprinkled with feta. I'm not eating carbs right now, so this is an excellent dish because the salsa verde sauce (I used Ortega) is very low in carbs. Heated up, it makes a quick, filling breakfast, if you can stomach chicken in the morning. (I can stomach anything, anyime.) As with most things, I think this would be delicious served on a bed of arugula.
Earlier in the week, I bought a pound of frozen, cooked shrimp from Giant and could hardly choke them down...I didn't think there could be so much of a difference between farm-raise and wild-caught shrimp, but, boy, was I wrong...yesterday, after work, I bought a couple of pounds of frozen, uncooked "pink pearl" shrimp caught in the Florida Keys. They were delicious, and their attractive pink color made handling them so much easier to stomach. They didn't even smell bad!
They turned out delicious, and, after thawing, I cooked them in olive oil with sea salt and ground pepper. Last night, I made a black bean sauce, with avocado, lime juice, cumin and chipotle seasoning. I served this warm, and made a cold avocado, onion and orange salsa to go with it. I sprinkled feta and fresh tomatoes on top, and served on a bed of arugula. This has been my most delicious creation, and I would absolutely serve it at a dinner party.
I'm planning to spend the weekend cooking...between a friend's visit, a few too many trips to Ann Taylor Loft, buying a bed, and the impulse purchase of a fabulous mirrored side table, I have about $250 to last me until the 15th of September! That means no nomming out...which is sad, and will be quite a feat if I can pull it off, since nomming out is my absolute favorite! However, I'm feeling equally excited about the meals I'm planning to cook. I've spent the week purusing Epicurious and Williams Sonoma for recipes. I'm planning to cook 3-4 low fat meat dishes that will freeze well, so I can easily bring my lunch to work. If I can start curing the tagine tonight, (you have to soak new tagines in water for twenty-four hours before using them, or else they will crack) then I will make tagine kefta, or Moroccan Meatballs. Additionally, I'm planning to make Chicken Cacciatore with Roasted Garlic Sauce, Chicken in Carmelized Onion and Merlot Sauce, and 6 Hour Chili. It's supposed to rain all weekend, so I can't wait to curl up on the couch with a book and waft in that delicious chili smell.
And...while we're on the subject of cooking, let's just take a few moments to make fun of ourselves. ;)
Thursday, August 28, 2008
And, oh yeah, I'm not a slut.
The other day someone told me that they thought getting into a relationship meant "losing options." Now, I don't know if this person meant "options" as in the ability to date a bunch of people at one time or if they meant "options" as life choices. I took it as the latter, but I often misinterpret things, so I guess I'll assume they meant both.
Question--aren't we supposed to have relationships? Isn't that kind of what it's all based on? Also, maybe I live in a fucked up city, or maybe it's just a fucked up time, but it seems like the majority of people I come across are very anti-relationship. They say they want it "at some point," but, over the past couple of years, I've watched people actively turn down opportunities for relationships. I try not to judge, but this really, really saddens me. I was raised to value commitment more than anything, and I often find myself wondering what the point of dating is if you're not seeking a relationship and marriage. As I relay my dating experiences to my mother, she is constantly astounded by the amount of "emotional baggage" people carry around that keeps them from having functional relationships. She tells me that it didn't "used" to be this way. I can't help but wonder (yeah, the Bradshaw reference) if she's right, or if her experiences and those of her friends were simply more pleasant than mine--perhaps it's only me that attracts the emotional fuckwits!
I've always known, since I was about 14, that I wanted a relationship, that I wanted to marry young. I just never said so. I think, back then, and even more so now, that there is a stigma attached to wanting those traditions. People tend to think you're weird. As I get older, though, the amount that I care about other people's opinions decreases more and more.
On my profile on a dating website I belong to, I've asked people not to message me if their heart isn't open to a relationship. "If I had a dollar for every time I've heard the phrase 'I'm not ready for a relationship,' then I would probably be able to buy myself a sweet pair of Manolos!" Guess how many messages I've gotten since I included that caveat in my profile? ;) (A grand total of zero.)
During the first few months I lived in DC, I had a date just about every week. I feel like I've matured about ten years since then. I've defined what I'm looking for and figured out what characteristics I want in a significant other. It's kind of like the Google "advanced search" feature. And, innocent dating is fun, I totally agree. It gives you an excuse to buy cute outfits and make-up! However, after the few months that it took me to "refine my search," I realized that I just don't have the patience to sit through another mediocre date. I'm ready for someone to sweep me off my feet, not invite me to sit on a park bench and watch Family Guy on their iPod in the freezing rain. For me, falling in love doesn't equate lost options, it opens a world of new ones!
Question--aren't we supposed to have relationships? Isn't that kind of what it's all based on? Also, maybe I live in a fucked up city, or maybe it's just a fucked up time, but it seems like the majority of people I come across are very anti-relationship. They say they want it "at some point," but, over the past couple of years, I've watched people actively turn down opportunities for relationships. I try not to judge, but this really, really saddens me. I was raised to value commitment more than anything, and I often find myself wondering what the point of dating is if you're not seeking a relationship and marriage. As I relay my dating experiences to my mother, she is constantly astounded by the amount of "emotional baggage" people carry around that keeps them from having functional relationships. She tells me that it didn't "used" to be this way. I can't help but wonder (yeah, the Bradshaw reference) if she's right, or if her experiences and those of her friends were simply more pleasant than mine--perhaps it's only me that attracts the emotional fuckwits!
I've always known, since I was about 14, that I wanted a relationship, that I wanted to marry young. I just never said so. I think, back then, and even more so now, that there is a stigma attached to wanting those traditions. People tend to think you're weird. As I get older, though, the amount that I care about other people's opinions decreases more and more.
On my profile on a dating website I belong to, I've asked people not to message me if their heart isn't open to a relationship. "If I had a dollar for every time I've heard the phrase 'I'm not ready for a relationship,' then I would probably be able to buy myself a sweet pair of Manolos!" Guess how many messages I've gotten since I included that caveat in my profile? ;) (A grand total of zero.)
During the first few months I lived in DC, I had a date just about every week. I feel like I've matured about ten years since then. I've defined what I'm looking for and figured out what characteristics I want in a significant other. It's kind of like the Google "advanced search" feature. And, innocent dating is fun, I totally agree. It gives you an excuse to buy cute outfits and make-up! However, after the few months that it took me to "refine my search," I realized that I just don't have the patience to sit through another mediocre date. I'm ready for someone to sweep me off my feet, not invite me to sit on a park bench and watch Family Guy on their iPod in the freezing rain. For me, falling in love doesn't equate lost options, it opens a world of new ones!
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Mastering the Art of...?
So, I'm pretty much the worst blogger ever, but several books I've read recently have inspired me to pick this back up again.
I'm like the last person on earth to read Julie & Julia, by Julie Powell, who, for a year, cooked every recipe in Julia Child's Mastering the Art of French Cooking...I always prided myself on being pretty fearless in the kitchen, (i.e., I'm not afraid to touch raw meat...although I screamed just a little bit recently, after unwrapping raw salmon and seeing that it was covered with SCALES on the other side, and is only that pretty, healthy pink color on the top) but, my god...I read on the Metro this morning about cooking the feet of young calves...I'm from Texas, and will never be a vegetarian, but, even I have to say, that almost turned ME! However, I'm excited to discover that this lovely book is being turned into a movie for release next year.
I've been doing quite a bit of cooking myself lately, and recently ordered a Moroccan tagine, in which I'm planning to make tagine kefta, or Moroccan Meatballs, which I ate, very authentically, straight out of the tagine under the starry sky in a rural village in the Rif Mountains. I don't expect to master Moroccan bread making anytime soon, mainly because I'm not planning to even make an attempt! My kefta will taste just as delicious on a baguette from Whole Foods!
A major theme in Julie & Julia is the "healing" quality of cooking. She takes on this project in order to distract herself from her dead-end job, looming thirtieth birthday, and the fact that she might not be able to have a baby. Basically, her story is a reminder that having a successful relationship is not always the key to happiness, which is something I feel I've been forgetting just recently. The best advice I've ever taken is in Elizabeth Wurtzel's The Secret of Life, which talks about the importance of having hobbies and interests, no. matter. what. I've recently discovered that work, dating, shopping and going drinking with friends (although absolutely fabulous) are NOT hobbies! There needs to be "more," and I'm absolutely devastated over the fact that I've hardly touched my camera since I moved out here...which is sort of why this is going to become a blog of all things, rather than just food and nomming!
I'm like the last person on earth to read Julie & Julia, by Julie Powell, who, for a year, cooked every recipe in Julia Child's Mastering the Art of French Cooking...I always prided myself on being pretty fearless in the kitchen, (i.e., I'm not afraid to touch raw meat...although I screamed just a little bit recently, after unwrapping raw salmon and seeing that it was covered with SCALES on the other side, and is only that pretty, healthy pink color on the top) but, my god...I read on the Metro this morning about cooking the feet of young calves...I'm from Texas, and will never be a vegetarian, but, even I have to say, that almost turned ME! However, I'm excited to discover that this lovely book is being turned into a movie for release next year.
I've been doing quite a bit of cooking myself lately, and recently ordered a Moroccan tagine, in which I'm planning to make tagine kefta, or Moroccan Meatballs, which I ate, very authentically, straight out of the tagine under the starry sky in a rural village in the Rif Mountains. I don't expect to master Moroccan bread making anytime soon, mainly because I'm not planning to even make an attempt! My kefta will taste just as delicious on a baguette from Whole Foods!
A major theme in Julie & Julia is the "healing" quality of cooking. She takes on this project in order to distract herself from her dead-end job, looming thirtieth birthday, and the fact that she might not be able to have a baby. Basically, her story is a reminder that having a successful relationship is not always the key to happiness, which is something I feel I've been forgetting just recently. The best advice I've ever taken is in Elizabeth Wurtzel's The Secret of Life, which talks about the importance of having hobbies and interests, no. matter. what. I've recently discovered that work, dating, shopping and going drinking with friends (although absolutely fabulous) are NOT hobbies! There needs to be "more," and I'm absolutely devastated over the fact that I've hardly touched my camera since I moved out here...which is sort of why this is going to become a blog of all things, rather than just food and nomming!
Saturday, March 8, 2008
Nomming Across the Nation
At the urging of my friend Elliot, who was consistently amazed by my nomming abilities throughout the month of my unemployment, following my move from Austin, TX to Washington, DC, I've started the food blog.
Moving away from the city where I've lived (off and on) for the past four-and-a-half years, I wasn't afraid of being uprooted from friends and family as much as I was afraid I'd miss all of Austin's great nomming parlors (aka: restaurants). However, I've been enchanted by all of the amazing places to nom, right within my own little corner of the city. I realized just how important a part of my life nomming had become when I sent an e-mail to a friend in Austin describing the house I found in DC, which happened to be right around the corner from the house where my BFFs live. "I'm going to be working like 60 hour weeks, so being close enough to hang out for an hour or so after work is a huge priority for me," I told her. "Plus, it's just so easy to stay in this neighborhood, it's close-ish to work, and I know where everything is...there's this great buffet and salad bar right when you get off the Metro, a Whole Foods, a Thai place, an awesome Indian place, and this fantastic sandwich place right in my area. And yesterday I found this GREAT falafel place that's only one Metro stop up!"
When I realized that six out of the eight reasons I provided were food related, I knew I had become quite the nommer.
So, today, I'd like to consider falafel, a word which isn't nearly as much fun to write in English as it is in Arabic. Anyone who hasn't tried Amsterdam Falafel in Adams Morgan...go there, do this, NOW. It's completely worth the crowds--not only because they let you load up your own falafel sandwich, but also because they serve truly authentic frites with Dutch mayonaise. Heart-stopping fries dipped in mayonaise is a Dutch tradition I partook in everyday for the month I spent in Holland with my grandmother as a kid, and again last summer. I didn't think I'd ever be able to find such authenticity on this side of the pond, especially in Texas, so thankgod for Amsterdam Falafel!
Moving away from the city where I've lived (off and on) for the past four-and-a-half years, I wasn't afraid of being uprooted from friends and family as much as I was afraid I'd miss all of Austin's great nomming parlors (aka: restaurants). However, I've been enchanted by all of the amazing places to nom, right within my own little corner of the city. I realized just how important a part of my life nomming had become when I sent an e-mail to a friend in Austin describing the house I found in DC, which happened to be right around the corner from the house where my BFFs live. "I'm going to be working like 60 hour weeks, so being close enough to hang out for an hour or so after work is a huge priority for me," I told her. "Plus, it's just so easy to stay in this neighborhood, it's close-ish to work, and I know where everything is...there's this great buffet and salad bar right when you get off the Metro, a Whole Foods, a Thai place, an awesome Indian place, and this fantastic sandwich place right in my area. And yesterday I found this GREAT falafel place that's only one Metro stop up!"
When I realized that six out of the eight reasons I provided were food related, I knew I had become quite the nommer.
So, today, I'd like to consider falafel, a word which isn't nearly as much fun to write in English as it is in Arabic. Anyone who hasn't tried Amsterdam Falafel in Adams Morgan...go there, do this, NOW. It's completely worth the crowds--not only because they let you load up your own falafel sandwich, but also because they serve truly authentic frites with Dutch mayonaise. Heart-stopping fries dipped in mayonaise is a Dutch tradition I partook in everyday for the month I spent in Holland with my grandmother as a kid, and again last summer. I didn't think I'd ever be able to find such authenticity on this side of the pond, especially in Texas, so thankgod for Amsterdam Falafel!
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