Snack Trek: PUMPKIN RAVIOLI & TIRAMISU (Amalfi)

August 25, 2010

Pumpkin ravioli, not yet ravaged.

Last night I went to Amalfi Ristorante with Cole and our friend Crystal. She’s basically a dining genius/guru, always in possession of Groupons for amazing restaurants I’ve never tried. When she told me about Amalfi and uttered the words “pumpkin ravioli,” I said, “We need to go there, STAT!”

And go there we did.

We ate more than just pumpkin ravioli, but I put pumpkin ravioli (and the cake of the night!) in the title of this post, because it’s “snack trek,” not “meal trek.” Maybe I need to think of a new category name. Restaurant Food Glamour Shots? (If I call it Food Porn one more time, I’m worried about the creeps I’m going to attract to this pristine site.)

We ordered family style, so we all shared everything you’re about to see, plus a bread basket. (Okay… two bread baskets.)

But blah blah blah. I’m going to sit back and let the food do the talking…

First up: Bruschetta. The waiter called it BRUSH-etta, but I’ve been told that it’s BRUSK-etta. I’m always afraid to say it aloud, for fear of sounding like a rube… or a snob. (But who really cares how its pronounced? Bottom line: It’s delicious.)

Shiny shiny tomato amazingness.

Unlike every bruschetta I’ve had before, this was on some sort of Italian pita. Nice twist! And there was SO MUCH tomato topping that I had leftover, which I piled onto a piece of the bread-basket bread. I am TEAM TOMATO, so I was very happy to have a maximal amount.

Moving from a pizza-looking appetizer to ACTUAL PIZZA, here’s the Parmigiana: roasted eggplant, fresh tomatoes and buffalo mozzarella with basil and parmigiano cheese. I’m also TEAM EGGPLANT, so I was very excited about this.

Pizza a la slice.

Cole was worried that he’d be in that picture, but I aimed with precision. Haha. Seriously, I’m starting to fall in love with taking pictures of food. If writing doesn’t work out, I’m sure food photography is a very lucrative field just dying for a bunch of amateurs to flood it. (Paging Dr. Sarcasm.)

This pizza had the unfortunate distinction of being sandwiched in between my Mozza experience and PUMPKIN RAVIOLI, so it was a bit overshadowed. But it was good. The thin crust got a little soggy under the toppings after a few minutes. That’s my one note.

And then… pumpkin ravioli. Are you surprised to know that I’m also very much TEAM PUMPKIN? I knew I’d knock myself later if I didn’t get a picture of the cross-section.

CODE ORANGE!

(A nurse-friend who worked in NY told me that at her hospital, Code Orange meant that two surgeons were fighting violently DURING SURGERY. Over an open patient. Skeevy.)

In case you’re wondering what all that is, it’s “pumpkin-filled ravioli with braised short rib in a mascarpone sage sauce.” AKA heaven on Earth.

I was really happy that the pumpkin ravioli tasted pumpkin-y. I was afraid it would all be a ruse to attract the members of TEAM PUMPKIN. The real surprise was the deliciousness of the short ribs. They were SO TENDER. And that little ragout or whatever it’s called on top was amazing, too.

I want to eat it again, right now. Mmmmm.

After all that we were stuffed, but we had to make room for tiramisu. (I call it TEE-rah-miss-SOO, other people call it TEE-rah-MEE-soo… I don’t know what’s right.) You know what they say: There’s ALWAYS room for tiramisu. It’s one of my favorite desserts, but there are so many variations– some disappointing. This was a GOOD version.

And it was eaaasy on the eyes.

Speechless.

The rum-to-cake ratio was high… and perfect. Cole said it might be the best tiramisu he’s ever had.

And thanks to Groupon, I only had to cough up $10 at the end! What a steal. What a MEAL.

Whatever I have for lunch is going to pale in comparison.

xoxo…

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What’s Up With These Toppings?

August 24, 2010

Yeah, about this...

Last week I went to one of those sushi-on-an-airport-carousel places, for the first time. Have I been living under a rock or what? (And it was $2/plate! That appeals to my inner cheapskate.) (Wait, my inner cheapskate is also an outer cheapskate.)

But I don’t have any pictures of that. I just have pictures from our Pinkberry dessert. As you can see, Pinkberry is currently offering watermelon and cucumber as toppings. To which I say… huh? Are those yogurt toppings? (I typo’d “yoppings,” which is the best new non-word ever.)

Don’t get me wrong– watermelon and cucumber are two of my most beloved foods. Maybe that’s why I feel a little… protective? I don’t want to see them shamed, sitting unordered at the Pinkberry.

Also, watermelon and cucumber are both… watery. I would think they’d kind of muck with the yogurt.

In general, the topping selection was weird that night. I’m a pretty diehard strawberry/kiwi/mango person at Pinkberry. Thanks to a late-night lack of supplies, somehow I ended up with this…

Not that there's anything wrong with that.

In general I’ve found that some of Pinkberry’s new toppings sound delicious in theory (animal crackers, wafer), but in practice are kind of tasteless. What up with that? (Maybe I’ve just caught them on off nights?)

I took those pictures on… Wednesday, I think… and planned on posting my WTF a lot sooner. Of course, I ended up going to Yogurtland on Sunday, and it was so hot out that I went for the tart varieties.  I went gung-ho for the fruit, and ended up making myself a hypocrite. Observe: my yogurt– with watermelon on top. (Also: How BEAUTIFUL does the fruit look? Obsessed.)

I'm eating my words... and my watermelon.

The watermelon was good. I’m not going to lie. But… it’s watermelon. It’s just good in general. I’m still not convinced that it’s an appropriate topping, but I’ll begrudgingly allow it.

I still think cucumber is a weird topping, though. I’m going to stand by that proclamation.

And just because I can– look how pastel/Easter-y the tarts look!

Pastel overload!

Those colors remind me of the Beanie Baby bunnies.

Why do we look so depressed?

I stole that picture from the internet, but I totally took an artsy (and better-than-this-one) picture of those bunnies (yeah, we owned them) during my high school photography kick. (Remember when everybody was obsessed with Beanie Babies? Circa mid-1990s?) (Ugh, some people don’t remember. We’re old now.)

Which toppings offend your sensibilities? Am I alone on this cucumber thing?

xoxo…

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Snack Trek: PIZZERIA MOZZA (AKA Oompah Loompahs & Mozza Pizza)

August 23, 2010

The fungus among us.

Have you guys heard the news? Pizza will save your life! So it felt very appropriate that I had a pizza birthday dinner planned post hangover-of-near-death, post cemetery screening. (And that article is an excuse to eat more pizza with total confidence.)

On Saturday I rallied just in time to go to the Cinespia screening of WILLY WONKA & THE CHOCOLATE FACTORY at Hollywood Forever Cemetery. From where we sat I could only see the top half of the screen, and my Tall Texan Twin and I kept falling asleep. A real feat, because we were sitting on (blankets on) asphalt. (We were at the back of the line– no lawn for us.)

But I woke up for some of the most memorable scenes, including the Oompah Loompah song where they say, “You know exactly who’s to blame: The mother and the father!” (Everyone yelled along with that line, oh-so-gleefully.) (Paging Dr. Therapist.) (So LA.)

I don’t think I’m going to do a “Mad Men” recap this week, but I think the Oompah Loompahs could compose a special song for Betty Draper. It might involve her major daddy issues, and her child-slapping issues. (Child-slapping was also an issue on last night’s episode of “Louie.” I watched it for the first time yesterday, and it’s already a favorite.) (I knew I’d like it. I love Louis C.K.)

But anyway, half the reason we went to the WILLY WONKA screening was that we needed something to do to occupy the time before our reservation at Pizzeria Mozza. It was a miracle that I managed to finagle a 10:45pm table for 3 on a Saturday night, and I booked it… at least a week in advance.

I’ve never had Mozza (there’s a Pizzeria and an Osteria, but I’m referring to the former, mmkay?) before, but I ALMOST had it at my old job this past April. The Powers That Be decided to have an in-office Mozza feast… during Passover. (And to be nice to me they offered to get a salad… but almost all of the salads have salami in them.) (JEW PROBLEMS.) (Mo’ Jewy, mo’ problems.)

Since then, I’ve been waiting for my next chance to pounce. And here it was, my birthday weekend. What a perfect occasion. (No Passover, no problems.)

Okay, now for the pictures. My phone’s camera flashed in the dark restaurant, so everything looks a little shinier and weirder than it should. But trust me, this food was delightful to behold.

First of all, the place-settings were adorable. We each had a different educational place mat about Italy. Mine showed the various football (soccer) teams. The silverware came in envelopes, which also contained little educational cards. And they’re real, functioning letters/envelopes. I’m going to send mine!

Special delivery.

Tall Texan Twin (AKA Bea) got the traditional margherita pizza, which was light and delicious. It had red sauce, which is a real plus in my book. (I’m a traditionalist like that… I guess.) (Or just a tomato freak.) It also didn’t have too much cheese going on– for me, that’s a good thing.

As much as I love my mushrooms, I just might have to order this next time.

This post is making me hungry.

I’m all about the mushrooms (I wasn’t even bothered when my dad showed me one of those “mushrooms grow in shit” specials on Discovery), so I got the funghi misti (I believe that translates to “mixed mushrooms… grown in shit”).

My pizza also included fontina & taleggio, which it turns out are types of cheeses. (I think the waitress judged me for not knowing that, but I just wanted to check that they weren’t meats-I-don’t-eat.) Oh, and thyme, which I HAVE heard of. (And… it’s English.)

I probably would have eaten the whole thing on any other day, but given the late hour and my weak stomach, I had all this goodness to look forward to the next day.

(Ironically, pre-Saturday I had worried about eating too much on Saturday day to enjoy the late-night Mozza, but due to the circumstances I had eaten almost nothing all day.) (The best laid worries!)

I'll get you, my pretties.

(Yes, I am a chronic remover-of-excess-cheese.)

I think that on an all-systems-go, I could have eaten two margheritas. Not that I WOULD have– my strong sense of shame will never allow me order two pizzas– but I COULD have. And that’s partly due to the lightness of the crust.

One of Mozza’s co-creators is Nancy Silverton, who is also responsible for La Brea Bakery and is basically a guru of bread. So it came as no surprise that the crust was totally amazing. It looks huge here, but it wasn’t heavy or overly doughy. Most of those big bumps are air bubbles, and the rest is just the right amount of crispy and soft.

The next day I became obsessed with showing you the inside of the crust, and this was the best I could do before I was forced to abandon my project and eat the specimen.

The more you know!

Something I learned: Reheating in the microwave mushifies the crust. Reheating in the toaster oven maintains the crispy crust. Both ways are still tasty. (My lunch slice was microwave, my dinner slice was toaster oven.) And during my experiment I realized that there is some sort of salt or spice on the crust that is just… magic.

I didn’t take a picture of Cole’s pizza, but he got the one with fennel sausage, panna, red onion & scallions. I tried a bite (without the sausage because I’m me, but I almost tried it– I believe it was homemade, and each piece looked like a tasty meatball), and the onions added a nice, sweet flavor.

Oh, but I did take a picture of my birthday card. Thanks, Cole! Very graveyard birthday-appropriate. (It played “Don’t Fear the Reaper” when I opened it.) (More cowbell!)

No, I'm not 40. But I AM just here for the cake.

While I was in the bathroom enjoying the space-age hand dryers (worth another visit, right there!), Cole and Bea told the waitress that it was my birthday, so our dolci (dessert) of caramel copetta with marshmallow sauce & salted Spanish peanuts had a candle in it. Thanks, guys!

Salty nuts for dessert! You guys know me too well! (Kidding, MOM.)

The dessert was delicious overall– especially the crispy waffle cone crust thing on the bottom. After a few initial bites, the peanuts became a bit too salty for me– if I had more than one or two in a bite, it was a jolt. But I was also super dehydrated, so that might have been a me-problem.

It was probably the trendiest birthday dinner I’ve ever had. (Is that sad to admit? Nah, I’m young and cheap.) (The pizzas were about $15/each… not bad, considering the product and the context.)

And the best part? Two meals worth of leftovers!

Hey little guy. I'm gonna eat ya!

So… that was Pizzeria Mozza. And the table-procuring difficulty makes total sense. (Also: It’s not a big place.) I’m not sure if my descriptions were particularly helpful. This wasn’t New York-style thin crust, nor CPK… it’s kind of in its own category. I’m guessing it’s more Italian, with a twist. (I can’t fully remember what pizza tasted like in Italy… a sign that I need to go back ASAP!)

Bottom line: Whatever Mozza is, I’m buying it.

xoxo…

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Shut It Down!

August 21, 2010

Don't let it get to this.

A cautionary birthday tale… appropriately enough, it involves a binge. Probably the first and last of its kind, for me. If you missed it, you missed it.

Last night I met up with a bunch of friends for birthday drinks, and for the majority of the evening almost the entire bar was filled with people I know, or people who know people I know. It was pretty crazy to walk in and see people from all areas of my life, hanging out and chatting. It was like one of those weird dreams where later you realize… and then Adam was talking to Sam, but Adam doesn’t KNOW Sam. Crazy dream!

I didn’t recognize a few people, because it was so weird seeing them out of context. (One guy I’d only ever seen in a bathing suit showed up in clothes, and THAT threw me for a loop.)

And some of my friends showed up at the bar not even knowing that it was my birthday or that they had been invited. (Or so they told me.) Just coincidental attendance. Haha.

But this post is not about that. This post is about how I am the total poster-child for NOT drinking– low tolerance, lightweight, weak-stomached, didn’t-really-drink-in-college little me.

But when you give this girl designated drivers and place her in a bar that is almost entirely populated with her friends on her birthday (making her feel warm and fuzzy inside, and very amenable to doing whatever said friends say), and those friends don’t ever want her to be empty-handed, she is going to end up drinking… oh God, at least one vodka tonic, a Tokyo iced tea, a tequila shot (with an ORANGE SLICE chaser, because the bartender was looking out for me and said it’s the best), a chocolate cake shot (which– shockingly– I was reluctant to drink, but it was delicious), a Jack and ginger, a Cosmo and … maybe more?

(Can you call a female bartender a tendress?)

Incidentally, I’d never had a tequila shot, and a woman I didn’t know asked if I was turning 21. I was like, oh man, I have to live a little. I bitched like a little baby about having to lick salt (I’m so sensitive to sodium) and drink a WHOLE shot (the glasses LOOKED huge, and sometimes I kind of just cough shots up) and put a lime in my mouth (the enamel strips off my teeth at the SIGHT of lemons). But it was actually surprisingly easy. (And I happily ate several orange slices.) And when I finished, Cole said, “Today you are a woman.”

(An hour ago, if I’d tried to think about/type that, I would have barfed.) (Again.)

I realize that some people are reading this and going, WTF? She didn’t drink THAT much! Thing is, I’m the type who can drink one or two drinks (sometimes even one beer– I think it’s a dehydration thing) and have a resounding headache the next day. So it should have occurred to me that drinking sooo many drinks wouldn’t go down easy with my bod.

I drank water when I got home, and took Motrin. I felt okay until about… sunrise? And then I started to feel… REALLY not fine. So I took more Motrin, but it didn’t stay down.

As I mentioned, there was vomiting. Multiple rounds. With torturous long intervals in between during which I wondered if I would ever NOT be nauseated again. Luckily I got a sense of when the vom was coming and made it to the toilet. (And was thinking, nooo, now I’m even MORE dehydrated!)

By the by, chair pose in yoga is a really good warm up for squatting over the toilet.

As much as I HATE barfing, I feel better now. And empty. Like, don’t do a Master Cleanse. Just drink a buttload, and be me.

That’s the crazy thing– my friends were surprised to hear that I vomited. That was wayyy more alcohol than I’ve ever consumed at one time in my life, but some of my friends can drink to blackout and just have a headache the next day.

Can’t say I’m jealous. (And no– I didn’t black out. I remember all!)

So I kinda hate everybody for buying me so many drinks, but I know that it was out of love. And I’m sorry for throwing snack foods at several people, and for having a great (and uncanny) knack for knocking the straw out of my drink and demanding a new one. (Thanks to the people who tended to me and/or the straws.) (Tenderizers?)

My mom advised that I avoid the sun today, so I’m holed up in my room with the shades drawn, like a vampire. I’m kinda loving that element of it. I vant to be alone!

Leave me alone, I have the worst hangover ever.

(But I did end up missing Sara’s brunch, including pumpkin baked good goodness.) (Noooo.)

For a few minutes I thought I was dying. I’m going to a film screening at a cemetery tonight (speaking of Binges, it’s Willy Wonka– Augustus Gloop knows how I feel!), and I was like– wouldn’t it be ironic if I couldn’t go because I DIED? (Part of the reason WHY I’m going is that I figure I’ll spend the majority of my future birthdays at a graveyard, so it just feels so darn appropriate.) (Paging Dr. Therapist.)

At one point this morning I was too nauseated to think about food or even look at a TV or computer screen, and I told my mom that I was canceling the Binge. (Or maybe just changing it to the Purge?) (Ugh, I hate vomiting. And somehow when I vomit I simultaneously cry. But it made my eyes/lashes look surprisingly dewy.)

But now I have successfully eaten a banana and written this entry, so I think I’m on the road to recovery (and pizza). (Much, much later tonight.)

And next year I’m having my birthday at a cupcake shop or something. (Let’s be real, I could eat those to vomitocious excess as well.)

Thanks to everybody who came out and bought me a drink. (I forgive you!) I had a lot of fun at the time and I was glad to see so many people I know from so many places in the SAME place, and I’m glad I didn’t barf/cry in front of you!

xoxo…

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SURPRISE Snack of the Afternoon, 8/20/10: PURPLE BIRTHDAY CAKE!!!

August 21, 2010

Is this a sweet dream or a beautiful nightmare?

As you might have guessed from today’s earlier cake post, I didn’t expect to get feted at work. We haven’t really celebrated any birthdays since I started at the new job, so I didn’t know what the protocol was.

Obviously the protocol is CAKE.

Apparently it’s tradition for the birthday person to cut into the cake (or they DIE?… maybe my office is very macabre), so I tore into this bad boy with a giant knife and served it up for everybody. And took pictures as I went. (Everyone is very tolerant of my eccentricities/blogging.) (Now watch– I’ll get fired Monday.)

But speaking of that, some people were talking about how the last BR cake at the office was a going-away cake, and I got nervous. That would be a much bigger surprise. (Bye Elysse! Don’t write!)

I thought the first post was Cake Porn (as Cole pointed out, that is a real thing– if you saw “US of Tara” this season, you saw the sitting-on-cake stuff), but this post is… well, it GOES THERE.

The co-worker who picked out this cake said it just felt like an Elysse cake, and she is spot-on. LOVE these colors. LOVE LOVE LOVE. The blue/purple-y hydrangea hue is just… yes. (And yeah, I know those are roses… they’re hydrangea-colored roses. This is America. Everything is possible.)

Blurry. This looks way better teeny-tiny.

The cake was indeed from Baskin Robbins, but it was unlike any BR cake I’ve had before. It had both vanilla and chocolate ice cream, separated by a layer of… it wasn’t cake, exactly. Maybe… dense fudge? It was kind of like tough, crispy chocolate cake.

But whatever about the insides. The outsides were sooo beautiful! (-Every Fashion Magazine Ever)

How dare they try to end this beauty?

Yes, for some reason looking at pictures of this cake makes me think of “Hair” lyrics.

And just when I thought I’d taken my best piece-of-cake picture, this came along…

I love these colors.

In case you’re wondering if the cake was REALLY from BR, what with the sort of double ice cream/unusual cake thing happening (and the exceptionally beautiful decorative work), wonder no longer.

So long, farewell, au revoir, auf wiedersehen.

Back into the freezer you go, uneaten half of cake!

(I would probably have more to say about this, if I wasn’t finishing this post the morning after a really unwise amount of drinking.) (More about that later.) (Maybe.)

Anyway– Moral of the story, thank you to my coworkers for the most gorgeous cake-surprise possible! (And I can wield a giant cake-cutting knife with the best of them.)

Of course the cake awesome, but it was really the sentiment behind it. I work for/with really nice people! And that’s like a birthday present every day of the year.

xoxo…

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The Daily Sandwich: BABY FATBURGER (Fatburger Truck)

August 20, 2010

Note the sign: They're looking for "Big Fat Friends."

Today the Fatburger truck was at our building for lunch. I was feeling a little weird (like, the chills?), but I decided to venture out and get a burger because my co-worker said they were smaller than normal, like sliders. I’m also going to a bar tonight for my birthday, so I wanted to have a solid foundation of food in me. I’m a responsible drinker.

So I went to the truck, and it turned out that– like most fast food chains that also have trucks (cough– In ‘n Out– cough)– they don’t have their signature fries. Bummer. But hey, I don’t need fries.

I ordered with the man standing next to the truck, and I saw him circle what I ordered. A Baby Fatburger, no cheese. But I had this weird feeling that I wasn’t going to get what I ordered. I don’t know, sixth sense.

But whatever. I stood in the sun and got some Vitamin D and cradled a big handful of Vitamin K.

Vitamin K is ketchup, get it? It's my drug of choice.

They called my name, and I accepted my burger, and I saw right away that it had cheese on it. But I was like, eh, I don’t feel like waiting in the sun any longer. I got my fill of being outdoors.

When I got my burger inside, I realized that it was actually a DOUBLE Baby Fatburger, with cheese. So it had two patties. And cheese. So I took off the bottom bun/patty, scraped off as much cheese as I could, and ate it. And I was so dazed/confused that I forgot the ketchup. But it was still good.

My fat little burger.

But accepting the “baby” burger I didn’t ask for made me start trying to justify why I didn’t just give it back, and then I started thinking about all sorts of baby metaphors. Like, I didn’t ASK for this baby, but this is the baby I GOT, so I guess I’d better learn to love it. Haha.

And it made me think of this article about the woman who selectively aborted one of her fetuses because she didn’t want to have twins. I didn’t want to ask the nice Fatburger man to abort one of my meat-uses.

Okay, this is getting weird. Obviously this whole situation is pushing my brain in a strange direction.

And one more thing– can you read the sign in the first picture that says they’re looking for BFFs: “Big Fat Friends?” I guess if you’re a Fatburger devotee you can keep it real, but it makes me feel a little squeam. Like, are you a BFF because you eat too much Fatburger? And if so, maybe stop being a BFF? Haha.

But I’m definitely not one to preach. I’ve got cake on speed dial. I talked to Lauren on the phone a little while ago, and she couldn’t believe how much cake is in my life. “How is this happening to you?” she asked. “It’s seriously as though the universe is hurling cake at you.” (Paraphrasing.)

“It’s not exactly a coincidence,” I said, wiping frosting from my lips. “I kinda put myself in cake’s path.”

xoxo…

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Snack of the Afternoon, 8/20/10: SUN-RYPE FRUIT STRIPS

August 20, 2010

The new fruit strips in my life.

I’m very particular about my fruit leathers, and a few weeks ago I realized that I missed having them in the office kitchen. (They were a staple at the old office, but were not present in the new one.)

When I requested “fruit leather” on the grocery list and these Sun-Rype Fruit Strips appeared in our coffers, I very hesitantly ripped into one. I expected to be disappointed, as I have been whenever I stray from the Stretch Island camp. (I don’t know why, but a lot of fruit leathers are gross.) (It’s possible that even the ones I like are vaguely gross.)

But lo and behold, I like these ones very much! There are three flavors: cherry, strawberry, and wildberry. And they’re all good! They don’t taste like the Stretch Island fruit leathers– maybe a little sweeter? a little less leathery?– but whatever they’re doing, they’re doing it well.

When I was in Palm Springs this past June, I had a disappointing experience with my original Stretch Islanders– I bought a few apricot-flavored ones, and they were dried out to an inedible degree. So… Sun-Rype might be the current champ?

And two other points for Sun-Rype–

-They’re based in Kelowna, British Columbia! CANADA! (I love Canada– BC in particular.) The fruit strips say “product of Canada” on the back!

-They’re made with natural fruit sugars. No added sugar. Nice!

This is not a point for either, but Sun-Rype are kinda see-through, whereas the Stretch Island ones are totally opaque.

So if you’re feeling adventurous and want to add a new fruit leather to your repertoire, look no further.

I’m glad to have fruit leathers back in my life! (Not sure if these are even technically fruit leathers, but close enough!)

xoxo…

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Happy Birthday to Me!

August 20, 2010

Let there be cake!

It’s my birthday today, but my family celebrated last weekend. My grandpa and I always have a combined thing, hence the “Nat.” He was turning 86, and I was BORN in ’86. CRAZY!

So… here are some pictures of the traditional Baskin Robbins mint chocolate chip ice cream cake! Cake porn!

But first– can you tell that my family reads the blog?

Do you think they know that I like cake?

Here’s the cake, outside and en fuego.

Action shot!

In the background you can see our Villeroy & Boch mugs. Those are… probably at least as old as I am, unless they’ve chipped and been replaced. If my life were a biopic there would totally be a scene where I’m an old old lady and see a Villeroy & Boch dining set with that pattern and it totally symbolizes my family, but only the audience knows because they SAW my family using them in a touching childhood scene.

I kinda believe that those rustic scenes are paintings of what my family was doing pre-America.

You can also see our fake sugar. Whichever fake sugar is in vogue is the one we’re using. Right now we’re on Truvia and Sun Crystals. For years and years it was Splenda.

And now for maybe my favorite piece-of-cake picture ever.

The middle of my name is "lys"... LIES!

I love those colors, and I love the plumeria blossoms. My dad picked those from our tree… I didn’t know we had a plumeria tree! (That’s what happens when you move away.)

Not sure if there’s any cake in store for me today, but I already had this and my BAGEL and I’m going to be having some delightful baked goods (including something PUMPKIN!) at a (town)housewarming tomorrow, so I am a HAPPY CAMPER!

Also a few birthday miracles happened to me this morning:

-I did one of those full back bend things at the gym, which I have never been strong enough to do in yoga class. I lifted my head off the floor and everything! I collapsed out of it and just started laughing with glee. Then I tried to do it again, and could not. It was a one-time thing, maybe. (And now my wrist feels tweaked.)

Like so, but probably a little less extended... and a lot less graceful.

(It’s called the wheel… thanks, Internets.) (And not to get all “Mad Men” season 1, but that’s appropriate for a birthday… a wheel… the circle of my year is complete. Or something.)

-Walking out of the gym, I saw a cockatiel in a cage, at this auto tune-up place. I’ve never noticed the bird before, and it looked exactly like Sweetie, my pet who flew away a million years ago. I said, “Pretty bird” to the cockatiel, and it said “pretty bird!” Which is exactly what Sweetie used to do!

-”Jump Around” played on the radio on my way home from the gym. Not really a miracle, but for some reason I was really excited about it. It’s nice to hear different songs every once in a while.

-When I woke up I weighed myself and was pretty bummed by the number. When I got back from the gym I weighed myself again, and I was THREE POUNDS less. I mean, whatever, weight is arbitrary and dumb. But it’s a nice little birthday miracle! Now I can eat more cake and feel slightly less anxious about it!

In the near future I will have to get some cake/cupcakes and take it/them home with me for a little photo shoot, because I am now the proud owner of THIS:

Thanks, Mom!

This has been a very good year, and I can only hope that the next one is equally full of goodness. Thanks to everybody (and all the food and TV!) who helped make this year so memorable!

And maybe on August 20, 2011, I will do TWO consecutive back bends! (Or TELL you that I did! You’ll never know the difference!)

xoxo…

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Snack of the Afternoon, 8/18/10: NECTARINE

August 18, 2010

Simple.

I don’t really have anything to say about this nectarine. I found it in the fridge. It was a nice, ripe, cold nectarine. I sliced it because I like sliced fruit, and then I thought it looked pretty. So I’m blogging it to share the joy of a nice piece of fruit.

This brings to mind one of my favorite poems. I paraphrase it often, but here’s the real deal…

This is just to say

I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox

and which
you were probably
saving
for breakfast.

Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold.

-William Carlos Williams

My descriptive vocabulary when it comes to food is equally… simple. “Delicious” is probably my main descriptor… which maybe dulls the word?

I don’t think this nectarine belonged to anybody else. In fact, I think it was the only one in the bag that hadn’t turned. But in case it was: Oops! Forgive me, it was delicious.

xoxo…

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Posted by yapplebee

The Daily Sandwich: PB, PRETZELS & DARK CHOCOLATE YOGURT COVERED RAISINS on WHOLE WHEAT SANDWICH THINS

August 18, 2010

What's not to like? Stick it all in a sandwich!

I’m actually a busy little bee in the room today so there’s no time (NO TIME) to blog, but I thought I’d capture this sandwich because it’s so bizarre and catch-as-catch-can… and so ME. (Also: Longest. Sandwich Name. EVER!)

You can see that I threw a bunch of other snacks on a plate, because I was jumping right back into the fray. (And I eat way more than just one snack every afternoon. Let’s be REAL.)

Here’s a view of this crazy newfangled bread.

Someday we won't even remember what normal bread looked like.

Every piece is the end piece. Isn’t the end piece everybody’s least favorite piece? And no crusts… I actually like crusts.

I thought these were called sandwich FLATS, but when I went back to double check, they’re called sandwich THINS. Isn’t that such a big bunch of marketing wizardry? Associating this low-cal bread with the word thin? I think FLAT is much more accurate, but it’s one letter away from “fat,” so… sorry, flat. One day you’re in, the next day you’re out.

Somewhere some “Mad Men”-style panel of women were questioned about their bread preferences until they all sobbed about their desire to get married. Or to be thin, I guess. Or to at least eat things with the promise of the word “thin” on the package.

We want thins, not flats. Actually, no carbs at all.

But whatever, I ate the thins. They’re doing something right.

Tomorrow Phamish is coming back. I just might have to make up for this strange-ness with a REAL sandwich. (Or try their bun?) (Bun as in Vietnamese dish, not as in bread.)

xoxo…

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Posted by yapplebee

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