Thursday, June 14, 2012
When Life Hands You Cupcakes, All the Champagne is Gone!
All Right, All right. I know. But to be fair, in my absence, I thought about blogging EVERY DAY. Swear. For good reason, though, I'm sure you'll excuse my lack of writing when you hear why. Because I have 3 months to catch up on, I could pen a novel, however, I am going to copy a snippet I emailed to my dear friend introducing her to my new life, and that is what I will share here- an edited version that is...
So, I have a brand new life.
I have moved in with a boy, began a new job and purchased a new car. I have depleted my savings in taking a pay cut, wake up daily at 5:45a, and attend a Monday salsa class. Sometimes Zumba gets caught up in the mix, but then again so does cake, so it just all depends on my daily habits and vomiting routine.
I wear heels every day, and drink loose leaf tea. I have business cards, credit cards, and an expense account. I'm not sure when I will vacation again out of the country, but I must say, when I hit it big, I am going to buy a nice pair of fancy shoes. Some that hurt my feet and are really pretty, and I'll only wear them if I am sitting down... in Paris! Why fancy shoes? I don't even know, but I feel that is where I will hear my calling.
I started reading 50 Shades of Grey- and got 11 pages into it before I got bored. (too bad I kicked and screamed like a brat for Jarred to buy it for me). I like to look up recipes for cupcakes made with booze and healthy dinner options because I'm getting fat in my new big girl job.
I still have dreams of being a waitress and forgetting about tables, and ruining the night for everyone. This is okay because at heart, I will always be a waitress. I carry not 1 but 2 cell phones, and I don't know the work number by heart. I talk to people everyday that I don't know and they trust me to make informed decisions about marketing for them. I smile. A lot.
I have gone through 2 packs of Post-Its, and half have been on doodles. The other half is important notes I then translate from my crummy jargon to English and then onto a computer. Fifi has only peed on 2 things that I know of, Jarred's bath mat, oh, and his futon. Sorry, shouldn't be 28 with a futon as a bed, honey :).
There you have it. In a nutshell, and very quickly I may add, here is my new life. It most definitely has taken some adjustment. I envisioned going to bed at 10 o'clock pm would be hell, but after attempting to rise before the sun after slipping into a shared bed slumber later than recommended, that hour of evening, or as 9-5ers call it, night, now seems like the perfect time for 7 hour snooze. I also am commuting to Santa Fe daily for work, which explains why I had to relinquish the 20mpg Land Shark for a bitty arrest-me-red Mazda 2. She's cute.
As for the cupcakes, that was not a joke. I have come across a recipe that will allow me to incorporate sparkling wine into the baking, and since it only calls for 1.5 cups total, that leaves me with the remaining to dance around and drink. YUM. Expect a bad picture of that one...It'll probable end up like this:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vl6azn-DzeE&sns=em
Hope all is well with the 2 people who read this, (mom, and Serge).
Cheers!
Friday, March 23, 2012
Knock, Knock. Who's There? Heroin!
The last time I moved out of my parents house, I moved in to a quaint little apartment by myself. I could have moved in with my wonderful boyfriend, or in with roommates. Heck, I could have stayed with my parents, (AKA my forever roomies), who were very cool and accommodating. Being 23, however, I sensed the need for pure independence coming along, and fast. I've always done things I personally consider independent, yet living on my own was in my mind the true test. So for the past 2 years, I have been living solo, supporting myself, in downtown Albuquerque. (*Since I'm certain only my mother and one other friend read this blog, there is no need to screen this post and am allowing the general area of my habitations to be revealed).
At this time, most people who live in other parts of Albuquerque, who are vaguely familiar with the city, or who have ever seen COPS are gasping at the idea of me, a single girl, living downtown, alone...in Albuquerque. I am completely aware of the reputation that looms behind this neighborhood and the activities and people that associate with it. Mostly, in the past 2 years, I have had the pleasure to deal mainly with drunk people stumbling their way home. Occasionally there has been a person passed out near my door step, or asked me for money. Sure, A crazy-crack-head-woman stumbled through my backyard and lost her top, and continued running the streets Girls Gone Wild style. (Note to self, don't do meth). These things, as unfortunate as they may sound, are to be expected when you live within 6 blocks of crummy bars. Why do you think I reside in this hood? Yes, so I too can participate in liver depleting drinking games at bars and not acquire the official NM stamp of approval. A DWI. (Sooo, 2004).
While this is all understood, and living Dtown does come with a territory, there is never a shortage of taking precautionary measures to ensure the utmost safe conditions. Crime has no address, yet this past weekend, it tried to define mine as it's home...twice. Maybe some mase and a baseball bat by the door is not common practice in everyone's home, as it is mine. Am I scared about living alone here? No. Am I cautious about living here? Definitely.
The first of these off-beat stories comes early on a Saturday morning. My bedroom window backs up to a shared courtyard I have with about 8 other people. (All nice, older, corky, cat loving individuals....no threats here). But being rudely awoken by loud door banging and screams by APD isn't my cup of tea. In my discombobulated state, I couldn't actually tell if they were in fact knocking on my door or not. Simultaneously and quickly rolling over, nevertheless, The Man and I go to peek out the blinds. Modest as the boyfriend is, he just parts the blinds to catch a snippet of the action, where as the aggressiveness of my personality wants the whole show. We draw the blinds up, and like young kids watching a movie on the living room floor, we lay on our stomachs, hands under our chins, and watch. We lay there, and watch as 8 people are lead out of the apartment on this very early and not to mention chilly Saturday morning by APD with their guns drawn and pointed. Long story short, helloooooo heroin bust! I guess the new tenant was a little less than what most people call a law abiding citizen.
Honestly, as long as it wasn't a meth lab where Fifi and I could blow up, and my high-as- a-kite neighbors were friendly, I don't care what mind altering substances they take part in. I believe it was the multiple stolen cars parked out front, the 8 people they had stuffed like sardines in a 500sqft apartment, and drug use at 7 am that captured the concern of the authorities and my surrounding neighbors, alike. Oh well, not my problem anymore...and my landlord felt the same way, can I get an eviction up in here!!!
The second incident this past weekend actually pressed me to call the police. Sunday evening I was laying around reading The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins (and we thought heroin was addicting) when a loud banging comes at my front door. (Note, I do have a metal security gate which provides a decent amount of reassurance against these crazy folk). My front door itself is all windows, so I could obviously see that this was not my boyfriend or any other friend stopping by for a cup of sugar. And when you come to my door, banging to be let in, and I am a girl who lives alone, in downtown Albuquerque, you better believe I am not as nice as one would in fact suspect. Within seconds of this kid trying to open my door and screaming at me to let him in because "they were coming to kill him," I phoned the police. I let my 'guest' know I was calling and he slurred that was a good idea. (This is the point my knees began to shake a bit. Shit, if "they" were indeed "coming to kill him," I didn't want "them" to kill me either). So in a phrase laced with a few more profanities than I will be writing about, I asked him to leave.
The dispatcher and I spoke on the phone while I gave her a full description of my crazy porch guest, and as she began giving me a lecture on race, I cut her off and asked if there were indeed cops on the way yet, because let's get real, I'm about to be a victim of a home invasion, and she is upset that I am unable to identify this man's race. How about the approximate age range I provided, clothing, approximate height, hair cut, obvious tattoo on his arm...will that suffice as a "general" description lady? How about who the F cares, my home is potentially getting broken into, send me police NOW! (Clearly, she is a product of the Albuquerque Public School system, sorry mom). Regardless, the man left, the police arrived 10 minutes later ( FYI, a woman gets rapped every 39 seconds in the United States, good thing APD was in a hurry that night), and all was well. As a matter of fact, the police told me (this is an actual statement) when they arrived that they "thought they saw a man with my description doing push ups further down the road." WTF?
Fifi and I are safe, and though I do love my little apartment, are in the process of house hunting. No, it has nothing to do with not wanting to reside in the downtown area, but moving in with The Man, so someone else will be obligated to clean the litter box!
Happy Friday!
At this time, most people who live in other parts of Albuquerque, who are vaguely familiar with the city, or who have ever seen COPS are gasping at the idea of me, a single girl, living downtown, alone...in Albuquerque. I am completely aware of the reputation that looms behind this neighborhood and the activities and people that associate with it. Mostly, in the past 2 years, I have had the pleasure to deal mainly with drunk people stumbling their way home. Occasionally there has been a person passed out near my door step, or asked me for money. Sure, A crazy-crack-head-woman stumbled through my backyard and lost her top, and continued running the streets Girls Gone Wild style. (Note to self, don't do meth). These things, as unfortunate as they may sound, are to be expected when you live within 6 blocks of crummy bars. Why do you think I reside in this hood? Yes, so I too can participate in liver depleting drinking games at bars and not acquire the official NM stamp of approval. A DWI. (Sooo, 2004).
While this is all understood, and living Dtown does come with a territory, there is never a shortage of taking precautionary measures to ensure the utmost safe conditions. Crime has no address, yet this past weekend, it tried to define mine as it's home...twice. Maybe some mase and a baseball bat by the door is not common practice in everyone's home, as it is mine. Am I scared about living alone here? No. Am I cautious about living here? Definitely.
The first of these off-beat stories comes early on a Saturday morning. My bedroom window backs up to a shared courtyard I have with about 8 other people. (All nice, older, corky, cat loving individuals....no threats here). But being rudely awoken by loud door banging and screams by APD isn't my cup of tea. In my discombobulated state, I couldn't actually tell if they were in fact knocking on my door or not. Simultaneously and quickly rolling over, nevertheless, The Man and I go to peek out the blinds. Modest as the boyfriend is, he just parts the blinds to catch a snippet of the action, where as the aggressiveness of my personality wants the whole show. We draw the blinds up, and like young kids watching a movie on the living room floor, we lay on our stomachs, hands under our chins, and watch. We lay there, and watch as 8 people are lead out of the apartment on this very early and not to mention chilly Saturday morning by APD with their guns drawn and pointed. Long story short, helloooooo heroin bust! I guess the new tenant was a little less than what most people call a law abiding citizen.
Honestly, as long as it wasn't a meth lab where Fifi and I could blow up, and my high-as- a-kite neighbors were friendly, I don't care what mind altering substances they take part in. I believe it was the multiple stolen cars parked out front, the 8 people they had stuffed like sardines in a 500sqft apartment, and drug use at 7 am that captured the concern of the authorities and my surrounding neighbors, alike. Oh well, not my problem anymore...and my landlord felt the same way, can I get an eviction up in here!!!
The second incident this past weekend actually pressed me to call the police. Sunday evening I was laying around reading The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins (and we thought heroin was addicting) when a loud banging comes at my front door. (Note, I do have a metal security gate which provides a decent amount of reassurance against these crazy folk). My front door itself is all windows, so I could obviously see that this was not my boyfriend or any other friend stopping by for a cup of sugar. And when you come to my door, banging to be let in, and I am a girl who lives alone, in downtown Albuquerque, you better believe I am not as nice as one would in fact suspect. Within seconds of this kid trying to open my door and screaming at me to let him in because "they were coming to kill him," I phoned the police. I let my 'guest' know I was calling and he slurred that was a good idea. (This is the point my knees began to shake a bit. Shit, if "they" were indeed "coming to kill him," I didn't want "them" to kill me either). So in a phrase laced with a few more profanities than I will be writing about, I asked him to leave.
The dispatcher and I spoke on the phone while I gave her a full description of my crazy porch guest, and as she began giving me a lecture on race, I cut her off and asked if there were indeed cops on the way yet, because let's get real, I'm about to be a victim of a home invasion, and she is upset that I am unable to identify this man's race. How about the approximate age range I provided, clothing, approximate height, hair cut, obvious tattoo on his arm...will that suffice as a "general" description lady? How about who the F cares, my home is potentially getting broken into, send me police NOW! (Clearly, she is a product of the Albuquerque Public School system, sorry mom). Regardless, the man left, the police arrived 10 minutes later ( FYI, a woman gets rapped every 39 seconds in the United States, good thing APD was in a hurry that night), and all was well. As a matter of fact, the police told me (this is an actual statement) when they arrived that they "thought they saw a man with my description doing push ups further down the road." WTF?
Fifi and I are safe, and though I do love my little apartment, are in the process of house hunting. No, it has nothing to do with not wanting to reside in the downtown area, but moving in with The Man, so someone else will be obligated to clean the litter box!
Happy Friday!
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
4 Years...And 'All' He Got Were Chicken Tacos
Last Saturday, The Man and I celebrated our Anniversary, as we do annually around the beginning of March. This year, I wanted no responsibility in planning anything. Quite frankly, I made the decision that I didn't want to make any decisions this past weekend. We (he) planned a mini trip and I left all the details in his hands; hotel, dinner, transportation, cocktails, everything. I was swept away to Santa Fe, where on Saturday, our day commenced, (began and ended, to be exact) with cocktails. More importantly, other than the trip, we exchanged gifts. Thinking I was being cute and clever, I got him a few vibrant pieces of local art, and grilling tools. (I'm hopping he does not grill the art). He one-up-ed the shit out of me with an exquisitely astonishing Hobo bag. After a lovely staycation this past weekend (where I planned and paid for nothing) with the man who has put up with me for four years, I felt compelled to do something else nice for him. (Yes, he already received the back-up-gift...twice). So upon our return on Sunday, I chose to cook him a scrumptious dinner.
That's right. You're getting the recipe now. And, naturally, the story that accompanies my thoughts along with it. You're welcome.
(Fifi in Crock Pot...yes, I washed it out)
What I made? Crock Pot chicken tacos. How they tasted? Amazing!
On Sunday, post our day of day drinking, which turned into night drinking, which composed itself into dehydration and mini hangovers, I constructed the modern working womans' meal. And not only was it fantastically tantalizing for our taste buds, to make this meal was stupid simple.
Fast Pace, Slow Cooker, Soft Chicken Tacos (yields about 4-6 moderate appetites)
The Goods, or at least what I used.
-3 boneless skinless chicken breast
-3 boneless skinless chicken thighs
-1 pkg McCormick Taco Seasoning
-1 jar (16oz) salsa ...I used Kyleitos, Mild. (it comes from Texas. See?!? Good things do come from Texas)
-1 small yellow or white onion, good chop
-1 bunch fresh cilantro, de-stemmed (I washed, picked, and froze the remaining)
-sour cream (As much as you want to slather on your tacos)
-cheese, yellow
-1-2 tomatoes, diced
-2-3 juicy limes
-pkg Gordita sized tortillas (I like Bueno's Grandma Style Small Tortillas)
What to do With the Goods, or at least what I did with them.
-In a Crock Pot, put all of the chicken, jar of salsa, taco seasoning, and 1/4-1/2 of your chopped onion in. Cook on high for 4-6 hours or low for 6-8.
(simmerin' chicken)
I stirred my dinner project about once an hour and at about hour 4.5 (of cooking on HIGH) I took two forks and began shredding the chicken, old school style. I also mixed in about 1/4 c of fresh chopped cilantro and turned the temp to warm.
The tacos were served with homemade guacamole (avocados, spices, lime, tomato, onion... I imagine there is a more bad ass recipe for this elsewhere, so I didn't list mine), sour cream, cheese, more onion (I smelled good for days), chopped tomato, chopped cilantro, and a lot of lime!
(now we're getting fancy, we've got garnish photos)
It is true, I have worked my way through the kitchen slowly with minimal tools and a minimalists idea of counter space. Some things I have prepared have turned to poo, and others are decadent. These tender, EASY, soft chicken tacos by far take the cake. Plus, I looked like every man's (wet) dream, prancing around in an apron cooking hearty food for my hungover poodle pants. (Sexy dream turned into not-so-sexy nightmare when he realized I was wearing grandpa gray sweatpants underneath and I was a main component in the onion smell lingering in the house).
I was too lazy (maybe hungover, still) to make beans and rice, or any other side dish to pair with my tacos, so they went solo. The verdict, nevertheless, was delicious food and a delicious weekend.
(the finished product)
Cheers!
That's right. You're getting the recipe now. And, naturally, the story that accompanies my thoughts along with it. You're welcome.
What I made? Crock Pot chicken tacos. How they tasted? Amazing!
On Sunday, post our day of day drinking, which turned into night drinking, which composed itself into dehydration and mini hangovers, I constructed the modern working womans' meal. And not only was it fantastically tantalizing for our taste buds, to make this meal was stupid simple.
Fast Pace, Slow Cooker, Soft Chicken Tacos (yields about 4-6 moderate appetites)
The Goods, or at least what I used.
-3 boneless skinless chicken breast
-3 boneless skinless chicken thighs
-1 pkg McCormick Taco Seasoning
-1 jar (16oz) salsa ...I used Kyleitos, Mild. (it comes from Texas. See?!? Good things do come from Texas)
-1 small yellow or white onion, good chop
-1 bunch fresh cilantro, de-stemmed (I washed, picked, and froze the remaining)
-sour cream (As much as you want to slather on your tacos)
-cheese, yellow
-1-2 tomatoes, diced
-2-3 juicy limes
-pkg Gordita sized tortillas (I like Bueno's Grandma Style Small Tortillas)
What to do With the Goods, or at least what I did with them.
-In a Crock Pot, put all of the chicken, jar of salsa, taco seasoning, and 1/4-1/2 of your chopped onion in. Cook on high for 4-6 hours or low for 6-8.
I stirred my dinner project about once an hour and at about hour 4.5 (of cooking on HIGH) I took two forks and began shredding the chicken, old school style. I also mixed in about 1/4 c of fresh chopped cilantro and turned the temp to warm.
The tacos were served with homemade guacamole (avocados, spices, lime, tomato, onion... I imagine there is a more bad ass recipe for this elsewhere, so I didn't list mine), sour cream, cheese, more onion (I smelled good for days), chopped tomato, chopped cilantro, and a lot of lime!
It is true, I have worked my way through the kitchen slowly with minimal tools and a minimalists idea of counter space. Some things I have prepared have turned to poo, and others are decadent. These tender, EASY, soft chicken tacos by far take the cake. Plus, I looked like every man's (wet) dream, prancing around in an apron cooking hearty food for my hungover poodle pants. (Sexy dream turned into not-so-sexy nightmare when he realized I was wearing grandpa gray sweatpants underneath and I was a main component in the onion smell lingering in the house).
I was too lazy (maybe hungover, still) to make beans and rice, or any other side dish to pair with my tacos, so they went solo. The verdict, nevertheless, was delicious food and a delicious weekend.
Cheers!
Monday, February 27, 2012
Loving Loyola's
I like to think I know good food. I work in a fine dining (for Albuquerque) restaurant, I am not shy about trying new and interesting (sometimes eclectic and scary) food trends, and I love to eat. The only food that I can think of off the top of my head that I truly dislike, is meatloaf. Why? Who knows. It cannot be the meat, I love meat. Perhaps it's the loaf; however, I really don't mind loafs. Obviously, it has to be the combo of meat into loaf form. Whatever, this blog isn't about stinkin' meatloaf!
In addition to loving food, I love going out to eat. Specifically, I enjoy Mexican (New Mexican) food. Green chili, red chili, beans and rice, pork, pork, pork, and tortillas. Living in NM, I have had the opportunity to try almost every (New) Mexican joint in town. Well, a handful of them, anyway. I have had the pleasure of eating chips and salsa at Sadie's, enjoying soft chicken tacos with green chili at Cecilia's, Margaritas at Cervantes. Crashing a wedding at El Pinto, only to enjoy their carne adovada was superb. Lunching at Frontier for their South West hash browns, while taking the grandparents to Casa de Benevidez for an early dinner is nothing new. I have seen almost every table at Los Cuates, and traveled to Mary and Tito's. To say that I am uneducated in good NM food would be as false as Pamela Anderson's tits. Excuse me, breasts.
Unfortunately, I am overly prone to stomach problems. Just looking at me wrong can make my tummy hurt. Furthermore, I am convinced all of my problems stem from the food I eat. So, unless I stick to boiled chicken and white rice, yours truly is a gastro-abdominal (Is this a word?) mess. Self diagnostics have confirmed that I was/am lactose intolerant, gluten intolerant, caffeine intolerant, veggie intolerant, hipster intolerant, and so on. I own everything from Beano, to Pepto, peppermint pills and pro-biotics. I take Yucult, Chinese herbs, Imodium, and Gas X. Specifically, the one 'style' of food that truly angers my insides is spicy (New) Mexican food. Murphy's Law states, naturally, that the one food I dearly love will be my demise. In order for me to take the risk and consume some of this often craved delicious staple, strict stipulations are in order. I cannot work or have anything important to do later that day. There are to be no immediate road trips or activities where I am in close quarters with others for long periods of time after consumption. And I definitely cannot be without a couch, for lying down in the fetal position in mid afternoon is best completed on a couch. Normally, the only time these guidelines may be broken are in the case of a true hangover. Nothing is better for such a circumstance than good, greasy (New) Mexican food.
Yesterday, I had amazing food!
No, I was not hungover. Just hungry. A lazy Sunday morning of house hunting and cruising the city made for a very large appetite. The Man and I usually have the same round-about conversation every time we decide on eating out:
me-'where do you wanna eat?'
man-'It's up to you.'
me-'well, what are you in the mood for?'
man-'anything, I'm just hungry.'
me-'I can't decide...'
man-'how about Chinese?'
me-'ugh, no, it's Sunday morning, I don't want Chinese in the morning'
man-'okay, sandwiches then.'
me-'uhhh, no, that doesn't sound good either'
man-'well, you pick then!'
me-'i don't know....are you in the mood for anything in particular???'
man-'arrghhhh!!!'
True, yesterday could have continued on that path, yet, we were in the right place at the right time. I didn't have any standing plans later in the afternoon, we were starving, and (New) Mexican food appealed to us like it was the answers to all of our problems. After hearing a few friends rave about a local restaurant, Loyola's, The Man and I decided to try it on.
This place fit like the perfect pair of jeans. At twenty till noon, on a Sunday, it was packed. Lines for a table were 6 people deep, as was the line for the register. Old family photos adorned the wall and the turquoise and peach color scheme screamed 1991! Loyola's, however, was clean! Perhaps we were 7th in line for a table, but we didn't wait more than 4 minutes. The service was as friendly as it was attentive; I never saw the bottom of my coffee mug! The special for that day was Tamalitas- small pork tamales. Accompanying my pork filled masa cakes were re-fried beans and Spanish rice. I chose to smother it all in green chili and to get a side of red, as well. I WAS NOT DISAPPOINTED!
1. The beans were the perfect amount of creaminess to sodium. Melt in your mouth re-fried beans. With cheese on top.
2. The rice was not overly saucy, but had the right amount of spice.
3. Green chili. Not creamy. It was chopped green chili with FLAVOR! (Pork to be exact)
4. Red chili. Perfect heat. (I like it hot). Not grainy, just smooth spicy red chili.
5. Portions- big enough to fill you up for days!
Even better yet, no stomach pain later that afternoon. Weekend brunch for moi almost always consists of mimosas and bloody Marys. To be honest, I don't really like having brunch sans booze. (Maybe I have a problem). Eating at Loyola's yesterday, changed my mind. After ingesting my way all over New Mexico, (Albuquerque, Las Cruces, Cuba, Portales, Farmington, Raton, Santa Fe, and even Tucumcari), I can proclaim my whole hearted love for Loyola's and their scrumptious food. It was everything I wanted out of (New) Mexican food and more. And on the way out, I saw a little girl eating a corn dog, my first and all time favorite food. Clearly, this place wins in my book!
In addition to loving food, I love going out to eat. Specifically, I enjoy Mexican (New Mexican) food. Green chili, red chili, beans and rice, pork, pork, pork, and tortillas. Living in NM, I have had the opportunity to try almost every (New) Mexican joint in town. Well, a handful of them, anyway. I have had the pleasure of eating chips and salsa at Sadie's, enjoying soft chicken tacos with green chili at Cecilia's, Margaritas at Cervantes. Crashing a wedding at El Pinto, only to enjoy their carne adovada was superb. Lunching at Frontier for their South West hash browns, while taking the grandparents to Casa de Benevidez for an early dinner is nothing new. I have seen almost every table at Los Cuates, and traveled to Mary and Tito's. To say that I am uneducated in good NM food would be as false as Pamela Anderson's tits. Excuse me, breasts.
Unfortunately, I am overly prone to stomach problems. Just looking at me wrong can make my tummy hurt. Furthermore, I am convinced all of my problems stem from the food I eat. So, unless I stick to boiled chicken and white rice, yours truly is a gastro-abdominal (Is this a word?) mess. Self diagnostics have confirmed that I was/am lactose intolerant, gluten intolerant, caffeine intolerant, veggie intolerant, hipster intolerant, and so on. I own everything from Beano, to Pepto, peppermint pills and pro-biotics. I take Yucult, Chinese herbs, Imodium, and Gas X. Specifically, the one 'style' of food that truly angers my insides is spicy (New) Mexican food. Murphy's Law states, naturally, that the one food I dearly love will be my demise. In order for me to take the risk and consume some of this often craved delicious staple, strict stipulations are in order. I cannot work or have anything important to do later that day. There are to be no immediate road trips or activities where I am in close quarters with others for long periods of time after consumption. And I definitely cannot be without a couch, for lying down in the fetal position in mid afternoon is best completed on a couch. Normally, the only time these guidelines may be broken are in the case of a true hangover. Nothing is better for such a circumstance than good, greasy (New) Mexican food.
Yesterday, I had amazing food!
No, I was not hungover. Just hungry. A lazy Sunday morning of house hunting and cruising the city made for a very large appetite. The Man and I usually have the same round-about conversation every time we decide on eating out:
me-'where do you wanna eat?'
man-'It's up to you.'
me-'well, what are you in the mood for?'
man-'anything, I'm just hungry.'
me-'I can't decide...'
man-'how about Chinese?'
me-'ugh, no, it's Sunday morning, I don't want Chinese in the morning'
man-'okay, sandwiches then.'
me-'uhhh, no, that doesn't sound good either'
man-'well, you pick then!'
me-'i don't know....are you in the mood for anything in particular???'
man-'arrghhhh!!!'
True, yesterday could have continued on that path, yet, we were in the right place at the right time. I didn't have any standing plans later in the afternoon, we were starving, and (New) Mexican food appealed to us like it was the answers to all of our problems. After hearing a few friends rave about a local restaurant, Loyola's, The Man and I decided to try it on.
This place fit like the perfect pair of jeans. At twenty till noon, on a Sunday, it was packed. Lines for a table were 6 people deep, as was the line for the register. Old family photos adorned the wall and the turquoise and peach color scheme screamed 1991! Loyola's, however, was clean! Perhaps we were 7th in line for a table, but we didn't wait more than 4 minutes. The service was as friendly as it was attentive; I never saw the bottom of my coffee mug! The special for that day was Tamalitas- small pork tamales. Accompanying my pork filled masa cakes were re-fried beans and Spanish rice. I chose to smother it all in green chili and to get a side of red, as well. I WAS NOT DISAPPOINTED!
1. The beans were the perfect amount of creaminess to sodium. Melt in your mouth re-fried beans. With cheese on top.
2. The rice was not overly saucy, but had the right amount of spice.
3. Green chili. Not creamy. It was chopped green chili with FLAVOR! (Pork to be exact)
4. Red chili. Perfect heat. (I like it hot). Not grainy, just smooth spicy red chili.
5. Portions- big enough to fill you up for days!
Even better yet, no stomach pain later that afternoon. Weekend brunch for moi almost always consists of mimosas and bloody Marys. To be honest, I don't really like having brunch sans booze. (Maybe I have a problem). Eating at Loyola's yesterday, changed my mind. After ingesting my way all over New Mexico, (Albuquerque, Las Cruces, Cuba, Portales, Farmington, Raton, Santa Fe, and even Tucumcari), I can proclaim my whole hearted love for Loyola's and their scrumptious food. It was everything I wanted out of (New) Mexican food and more. And on the way out, I saw a little girl eating a corn dog, my first and all time favorite food. Clearly, this place wins in my book!
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
Ladies and Beans...Now That's Lethal
Dinner parties, frat parties, costume parties... none are as terrific as the good ole Ladies' Night. No, I am not referring to false lashes and glitter, with mile high heels and secret short mini skirts. I'm talking about girls, food, wine...maybe even sweat pants. And just last night, I fashioned a Ladies Night of my own.
About a week ago, I decided to have the girls over for some well needed food and vino time. Originally, other than wanting to hang out with some spectacular gal pals, I wanted to cook a massive amount of food and bake a ridiculous dark-chocolate-salty-caramel 6 layer cake. As can almost be expected, the latter did not happen; and other than cooking the BEST BEAN DIP, placing assorted cheeses, crackers, and veggies on the table, there was no cooking. A poorly planned morning off, combined with time consuming blogging, left no fudge room (mmm, fudge), for lavish home cooked delicacies.
The true master piece of the evening, besides the purchased $3.99 white wine, was the Bean Dip. I've made this for years, and almost every time, I alter the ingredients a tad. Previously, there have been whole garlic cloves embedded deep within the concoction. On other occasions, I have assembled a freshly grated cheese medley complete with chopped fresh jalapeños and onions. It was last night however, that the Dip took a turn for the best. A secret ingredient that I have previously professed my love for was introduced into the mix. I was not raised to be stingy, therefore, I am going to share this recipe with the blog world.
It should be noted that this dish is not very healthy, hence making it delicious!
Best Bean Dip.
You will need:
-2 cans 14.5 oz ea. re fried beans. (I used spicy jalapeño beans)
-1 can 14.5 oz black beans. (drained)
- ~ 2 c grated cheese, preferably Mexican blend
- 3-4 garlic cloves, chopped, minced, whole, what ever you like. (I like minced)
- ~ 10 jalapeño slices from the jar. Make sure they are pickled and spicy. (chop those suckers up)
-16 oz sour cream
-1 1/2 c salsa (your choice, I like NM's Sadies Salsa, HOT)
-Hidden Valley Original Ranch Packet (weapon of mass destruction)
-cilantro (mostly for pretty)
- baking dish, 9x9
What you do:
-pre heat oven to 350 degrees
-in baking dish, mix beans, chopped garlic, jalapeños, some cheese, and any other seasoning you want.
-in sour cream container, add Ranch Packet and mix well. (This is the newest invention. In the past, I have just used plain old sour cream, yet the ranch flavor adds a pizazz that my taste buds could barley handle.)
-spread a layer of the ranch cream on top of the beans, approx 3/4 to 1/2 cup. (reserve the rest for EVERYTHING else in your life that requires dip.)
-on top of cream, spread your layer of salsa
-top with cheese, enough to fully cover the surface, and bake for 20 mins, or until cheese bubbles.
-remove from oven, garnish with fresh cilantro, and serve warm.
There is definitely room for add- ins... black olives, onions, soul seasoning, green chili, the works. I happen to have some very lovely, but very picky friends- indeed sticking to the basics was paramount. And when your friends leave you with too much left over dip, put it in a tortilla the next day and burrito-it-up. For a high protein breakfast (I think), warm a spoonful of dip stove-top and add an egg. Get creative. Be warned again, the dip, though could be made from scratch with crock pot beans, fresh and organic veggies, and local cheese, is not healthy. Using canned beans and jarred jalapeños mixed with full fat ranch sour cream is not calorie cutting. But anything with that much sodium and love always tastes scrumptious.
So ladies, thank you for allowing me to cook/prepare food for you. A joyous night of eating laughing, and reminiscing was so enjoyed.
And ladies, apologize to your men, for beans have a mean idea of revenge!!!!
About a week ago, I decided to have the girls over for some well needed food and vino time. Originally, other than wanting to hang out with some spectacular gal pals, I wanted to cook a massive amount of food and bake a ridiculous dark-chocolate-salty-caramel 6 layer cake. As can almost be expected, the latter did not happen; and other than cooking the BEST BEAN DIP, placing assorted cheeses, crackers, and veggies on the table, there was no cooking. A poorly planned morning off, combined with time consuming blogging, left no fudge room (mmm, fudge), for lavish home cooked delicacies.
The true master piece of the evening, besides the purchased $3.99 white wine, was the Bean Dip. I've made this for years, and almost every time, I alter the ingredients a tad. Previously, there have been whole garlic cloves embedded deep within the concoction. On other occasions, I have assembled a freshly grated cheese medley complete with chopped fresh jalapeños and onions. It was last night however, that the Dip took a turn for the best. A secret ingredient that I have previously professed my love for was introduced into the mix. I was not raised to be stingy, therefore, I am going to share this recipe with the blog world.
It should be noted that this dish is not very healthy, hence making it delicious!
Best Bean Dip.
You will need:
-2 cans 14.5 oz ea. re fried beans. (I used spicy jalapeño beans)
-1 can 14.5 oz black beans. (drained)
- ~ 2 c grated cheese, preferably Mexican blend
- 3-4 garlic cloves, chopped, minced, whole, what ever you like. (I like minced)
- ~ 10 jalapeño slices from the jar. Make sure they are pickled and spicy. (chop those suckers up)
-16 oz sour cream
-1 1/2 c salsa (your choice, I like NM's Sadies Salsa, HOT)
-Hidden Valley Original Ranch Packet (weapon of mass destruction)
-cilantro (mostly for pretty)
- baking dish, 9x9
What you do:
-pre heat oven to 350 degrees
-in baking dish, mix beans, chopped garlic, jalapeños, some cheese, and any other seasoning you want.
-in sour cream container, add Ranch Packet and mix well. (This is the newest invention. In the past, I have just used plain old sour cream, yet the ranch flavor adds a pizazz that my taste buds could barley handle.)
-spread a layer of the ranch cream on top of the beans, approx 3/4 to 1/2 cup. (reserve the rest for EVERYTHING else in your life that requires dip.)
-on top of cream, spread your layer of salsa
-top with cheese, enough to fully cover the surface, and bake for 20 mins, or until cheese bubbles.
-remove from oven, garnish with fresh cilantro, and serve warm.
There is definitely room for add- ins... black olives, onions, soul seasoning, green chili, the works. I happen to have some very lovely, but very picky friends- indeed sticking to the basics was paramount. And when your friends leave you with too much left over dip, put it in a tortilla the next day and burrito-it-up. For a high protein breakfast (I think), warm a spoonful of dip stove-top and add an egg. Get creative. Be warned again, the dip, though could be made from scratch with crock pot beans, fresh and organic veggies, and local cheese, is not healthy. Using canned beans and jarred jalapeños mixed with full fat ranch sour cream is not calorie cutting. But anything with that much sodium and love always tastes scrumptious.
So ladies, thank you for allowing me to cook/prepare food for you. A joyous night of eating laughing, and reminiscing was so enjoyed.
And ladies, apologize to your men, for beans have a mean idea of revenge!!!!
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
Gettin' Fit on the Ranch
While cleaning off my refrigerator the other day, I began uncovering layers of old shopping lists, Christmas announcement photos and business cards. The product consuming the most real estate on the fridge front, however, were dozens of random recipes written on napkins, scraps of notebook paper, old paper bags, and even one written in red lip liner. (Slut). The majority of these creations I have already tested on unwilling suspects; (mom, dad, and man lover), and oddly enough most of which were fairly delicious. I have a few 'go-to-recieps' for any and all occasions that are stored upstairs; all are simple and have rotating ingredients depending on what I can get my hands on. (You'd be surprised to find I am actually NOT Greek, considering the amount of lemon, olive oil, and garlic I add to ever dish I prepare...yes, even dessert). But I have to say, it is the homemade ranch dressing that swoops in and steals the gold medal.
***Note*** I am fully prepared to accept all responsibility for the following statement- This ranch dominates all other ranch dressings. (Possibly even that of a scrumptious, kinda-local New Mexico pizza joint).
While in college, my roommate (still one of my best friends) and I would consume this condiment by the gallon. We began living together during the second semester of our sophomore year, right after winter break, and right before spring break. Being that time of year, we were in all-out-get-in-tip-top-shape for bikini season mode. She and I routinely found ourselves at the gym, visited the tanning bed just as often, and obviously began "eating healthy." To us, "healthy" consisted of incorporating cucumbers doused in this "healthy" homemade ranch dressing, and chasing our (cheap) vodka shots with pickle juice, rather than soda.
Who were we kidding? Small modifications to our debaucherious lifestyles were obviously not aiding us into sexy swimwear in any way. Sure, We went to the tanning bed, yet, I took the time to shield most of my moles with shapely stickers. (After a season of fake baking, I appeared to be another race, but I also had small pale dolphins and stars glowing on my back). True, we could be seen at the gym every day, nevertheless, laying on the floor, using a medicine ball as a pillow while flirting with the 'oops' I later made, doesn't necessarily count as exercise, either. And that ranch dressing...
I am not exactly sure why we were under the influence of thinking that we were eating healthy. The magical ranch dressing that I swear by is none other than Hidden Valley's Original Ranch Dressing Mix. With one cup of milk, (Must be whole milk, don't cheat yourself outta this), one cup of mayonnaise (do NOT use any low-fat or organic shit), and one packet of said Ranch Mix, get to mixxin' refridgeratin' and eatin' !!!
Roomie and I didn't stop at salads and veggies, that sexy sauce went on everything. Quiche, tacos, eggs, generic brand Saltines, you name it. Perhaps it was our 'cheesecake' that brought all the boys to the yard that semester and not our 'milkshake,' but we didn't care. It was the best semester because we were tan, 'in shape,' and we had that damn ranch dressing.
To this day, I continue to imbibe on the sacred concoction, yet, I find myself utilizing it in moderation. Apparently 'gettin' chunky' and that dressing have some sort of affiliation.
Though expressing my gratitude towards Ranch Dressing seems like something you'd find on an Adam Sandler Album, I am proud to say I do own one of his CD's and would give praise, as he sang "Ode to my Car," to the ever delectable do-it-yourself Hidden Valley Ranch Dressing!
I highly suggest everyone make it TONIGHT!
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
Lemme Get my Wax on
Very recently, I have become enthralled with a little ditty called "Pinterest.com" Over Thanksgiving, my boyfriend's brother's wife, also known as Mrs. P in this blog, mentioned the site to me. It made sense and sounded intriguing, however, by the time I made it a point to become familiar with this virtual pin board, the idea had already escaped my mind. Thankfully, Kathy Lee Gifford, slurred something mentioning Pinterest recently while hula hooping on the Today Show. (Good one, 4th segment). That for me, was the beginning of the end.
Upon entering the .com idea of a high school cork board, I was welcomed with everything you could imagine. Recipes for chocolate chip cookie-dough brownies, Gucci peep toe booties on sale, websites featuring DIY everything from living room painting to specific brush-stroke-techniques to ensure maximum paint coverage. There are hair tutorials, nail painting tutorials, how-to-tie-a-tie tutorials....and if you like it, you "pin it." Since I'm obviously behind on conforming to most (duh, not all, I do recognize that I am blogging) social media forums, (Facebook, wha?!?), I have not taken up on creating my personal board; though, I truly enjoy seeing everything "pinned" on there. Like using your friends email and password to Facebook stalk old fatties you went to high school with. (No, silly, I don't do that).
(Honestly, while referencing the page for accurate information, I find myself logging on to a "how-to-apply-silver-eye shadow- properly" link...WTF, addicting)!
Even more than Parmesan baked broccoli or crock pot chicken tacos, I found something so alluring that I was compelled to take action and attempt. Yup, I'm going to make my own candles! Sure, purchasing ready made wax lights might be cheaper, less time consuming, and perhaps even smell better. It does concern me that the potential to burn my home or my cat down is higher. But c'mon, why spend fifty cents on 3 votives when I can spend almost 40 dollars on supplies that may lead me to make my own candle. (No, it's not pluralized...just.one.candle).
So on my day off, this gal went in search of tools. I have imagined this house smelling of warm vanilla sugar and seeing ivory candles placed everywhere. Bathroom, kitchen, nightstand- you name it, I have IMAGINED candles on it. (Clearly, I also envision living in a pristine white mansion). While sifting through every product the craft store entertained me with, I stumbled upon an actual candle making isle. (So, maybe this is more of a popular idea then it was first conceived to be). Even better, while choosing between wax, (either flake or brick) and wick size, (who knew bigger isn't always better), I drop my gaze to the very bottom shelf. Low and behold there is a freaking candle making kit- complete with the wicks, container, wax, dye, magical scent, and special pouring pot!!! Shiver me timbers, I almost squealed like a small child on Christmas.
Walking to the cash register, the novelty of candle making seemed wear off a tad. The thought of so many people already doing this (so many that they actually have a damn kit for this stuff) tainted my buzz; just a bit. Perhaps the initial buzz kill came from the display of candles piled a mile high on clearance by the check-out counter. Do I really just have a craving to boil wax? All of this, nevertheless allowed me to conclude that I don't care. I'm going to make the hell out of some candles, and maybe I'll even quilt a blanket afterwards, before adopting 6 more cats and going to bed at 7 pm.
This will go on my 'Do Something New Everyday' list...(that I will begin after I make candles, naturally). At least I've taken away some saucy recipes for dinner from the Internet collage board. The boyfriend sure does love a woman who can cook- now we just have to find him a woman who can clean!
Upon entering the .com idea of a high school cork board, I was welcomed with everything you could imagine. Recipes for chocolate chip cookie-dough brownies, Gucci peep toe booties on sale, websites featuring DIY everything from living room painting to specific brush-stroke-techniques to ensure maximum paint coverage. There are hair tutorials, nail painting tutorials, how-to-tie-a-tie tutorials....and if you like it, you "pin it." Since I'm obviously behind on conforming to most (duh, not all, I do recognize that I am blogging) social media forums, (Facebook, wha?!?), I have not taken up on creating my personal board; though, I truly enjoy seeing everything "pinned" on there. Like using your friends email and password to Facebook stalk old fatties you went to high school with. (No, silly, I don't do that).
(Honestly, while referencing the page for accurate information, I find myself logging on to a "how-to-apply-silver-eye shadow- properly" link...WTF, addicting)!
Even more than Parmesan baked broccoli or crock pot chicken tacos, I found something so alluring that I was compelled to take action and attempt. Yup, I'm going to make my own candles! Sure, purchasing ready made wax lights might be cheaper, less time consuming, and perhaps even smell better. It does concern me that the potential to burn my home or my cat down is higher. But c'mon, why spend fifty cents on 3 votives when I can spend almost 40 dollars on supplies that may lead me to make my own candle. (No, it's not pluralized...just.one.candle).
So on my day off, this gal went in search of tools. I have imagined this house smelling of warm vanilla sugar and seeing ivory candles placed everywhere. Bathroom, kitchen, nightstand- you name it, I have IMAGINED candles on it. (Clearly, I also envision living in a pristine white mansion). While sifting through every product the craft store entertained me with, I stumbled upon an actual candle making isle. (So, maybe this is more of a popular idea then it was first conceived to be). Even better, while choosing between wax, (either flake or brick) and wick size, (who knew bigger isn't always better), I drop my gaze to the very bottom shelf. Low and behold there is a freaking candle making kit- complete with the wicks, container, wax, dye, magical scent, and special pouring pot!!! Shiver me timbers, I almost squealed like a small child on Christmas.
Walking to the cash register, the novelty of candle making seemed wear off a tad. The thought of so many people already doing this (so many that they actually have a damn kit for this stuff) tainted my buzz; just a bit. Perhaps the initial buzz kill came from the display of candles piled a mile high on clearance by the check-out counter. Do I really just have a craving to boil wax? All of this, nevertheless allowed me to conclude that I don't care. I'm going to make the hell out of some candles, and maybe I'll even quilt a blanket afterwards, before adopting 6 more cats and going to bed at 7 pm.
This will go on my 'Do Something New Everyday' list...(that I will begin after I make candles, naturally). At least I've taken away some saucy recipes for dinner from the Internet collage board. The boyfriend sure does love a woman who can cook- now we just have to find him a woman who can clean!
Friday, January 27, 2012
New Year, New Blog
5 months and 5 days later......
I've chosen to skip my work out and new New Year's resolution of one day to write this. (I'll do some downward dog, and perhaps 15 crunches to make up for the loss). This will be much more productive, if I do say so myself.
A great friend and I were chatting the other day. She herself is a lovely blogger, with many other talents including but not limited to: nail painting, consuming shots of sherry, home decorating, and cooking. (sweetieandthekitchen.com check her shit out). We got together right after the new year and discussed how much we both enjoy hearing ourselves speak, seeing our written words, and indulging in some 'us' time. For the duration of our evening, before painting our nails and after petting her cats to the point of balding, we spoke of our writing forums. It was decided that night we were going to needed to begin small renovations on our sites with the motivation of one another.
For years I've loved my blog, and quite frankly think it's pretty damn funny. But up until recently, where my travel bug (though still infectious) has taking a hiatus; my feelings towards Grown Up Girl have subsided. True, the hilarious thoughts i transform into reading material are entertaining...if you know me. My stories, however, were becoming more of the liking of monotonous, self important ramblings rather than intriguing ides of mystery and lure. (If they were indeed ever these self-proclaimed notions).
A sob story, this is not. A wake up call, it is... a little.
So, in accepting the idea that my blog must transform into something more charming while in the off season of world traveling, I racked the ole cerebral noggin for some corky facts to write about.
Some literary images popping through my head...
cats
food
moving
moving in with boys
awkward moments
health care
... and the list went on.
Reasons against said topics...
Cats- true, I love them. All of them. Fuzzy, furry, young, old, mine, others, every.single.one. (reference Debbie, the recent MBA grad on youtube with the dating video).
Moving- after every move, there is a story; we all have one. Cant find the lazy Susan I swore I packed in the box marked 'kitchen stuff,' only to find it 3 months later in the box left packed in the closet which holds up the other box of shoes "I don't wear anymore but probably, maybe, hopefully will some day."
Moving in with boys- it's going to happen, don't judge me- you'll hear about it.
Awkward moments- for this I need sub categories and tangent bars. My life is filled with awkward moments, just peruse the rest of my blog.
Health care- it would end up with me going on and on about prescription birth control pills and band-aids with the occasional uneducated jab at some conservative schmuck.
Then we have food. Google how many blogs on food there are floating in website space. Millions. Who's to say my self-important idea on chicken noodle soup is worth reading. There are actual chefs out there who are self-important (for delicious reasons) and have blogs (with spell check).
So, I've decided to reformat my site back to me. Guess what? I'm going to write about all of the above and more. You just might hear about my poor woman Raman Noodle and Egg dinner (adapted from the Poor Man). Maybe you'll just have a creative collaboration of cat clips; primarily of my feisty feline Fifi....She's French. (Alliteration overload). If you're lucky, this gal might even throw in a snippet into a little erotic literature. (I'll try and not confuse and/or mix spicy food with fictitious threesomes.)
As usual, I'll attempt to maintain my dignity and utilize all aspects of proper editing, ie: spell check, grammar check, bad words check, and so on. I'll consult a thesaurus so the words I choose to illustrate my thoughts don't cause discomfort or disinterest.
So sit back and enjoy, this is about to get interesting.
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