The Odd Broad

Oh dear

I walked into my apartment building this evening and was met by a surprise most unpleasant: a tall guy, whom I instantly pegged as the son of the giant who lives upstairs (Giant Jr., I supposed; he who plays bad jazz on his bass into the wee hours of the morn), walked past me holding...a small black mouse.

He was headed outside, dangling the poor bastard by his little tail.  His friend held the door open for him.

"Shit!"

It was all I could muster.  Could he not have worn a glove or something?  Even a makeshift glove, a plastic bag?  Or at the very least, have grabbed a damn paper towel?  Who does that? 

It was the most vile thing I could have possibly seen just before dinner.

Skanky Gourds

The Shaw's on Boylston sold us skunky gourds.  Granted, I did take two from their display shelf, and Hubby did warn me not to, but I did it anyways.  Those gourds were adorable!  They belonged on my tablescape!

And there they were, perched in my hallway, in the little Halloween dish from the Christmas Tree Shop that said, "BOO!" 

Little did I know they'd gone all skanky.  I was bending down in the hallway, dusting, when I smelled something awful.  Something filthy.  Something...fishy.  Stinkiness begs company, so I called Hubby over to have a whiff.  "Come smell this!" I implored.

He wasn't impressed.  "Oh my God!  That's sick!  Why would you make me smell that?"

I'm not sure why.  I suppose I wanted someone to share in the horror.  Our pretty little gourds were skankalicious.  Too bad.  Good thing I bought plenty.

It's chili weather in Odd Broad Land

For what it's worth, I've been vegetarian (and mostly vegan) since September 2nd.  (I can scarcely believe it, but it's true.)  My last carnivorous meal was chicken picatta, prepared by my sister.  Today marks day twenty-five, though it somehow feels longer.

Being completely vegan has proven to be a challenge for this broad.  But I really adore the way I feel sans dairy, and jeans that haven't fit me in years are suddenly sliding on without a struggle.  I wont lie; this is a bit of a thrill.

Oh, there have been a few stumbles: spanikopita was my first queso downfall, though entirely accidental.  The eggplant parmesan I encountered last week, however, was purely premeditated.  As in, I made it.  (In my defense, I did go to three different stores in search of a local mozzarella.)

But I've eaten no meat.  None!  Zilch!  Nada!

Initially, the thing that frightened me most about this endeavor was my deep love for all things food related: The Food Network, foodie magazines, my cookbook collection, my nightly trips to Trader Joe's, the moments spent puttering around my minuscule kitchen...

I'm the type of person who starts thinking about dinner before 10 am.  And at first, I really didn't know what to cook.  Everything vegetarian felt like such a side dish.  But here's something tasty, meatless, and very much an entree.  I found this recipe in my Ellie Krieger cookbook and simply omitted the beef and added some garlic.  Vegetarian Chili!

WHAT YOU'LL NEED:

1 onion, diced

1 red bell pepper, diced

1/2 cup thinly diced carrots

1 1/2 cups frozen corn kernels (Trader Joe's fire roasted corn works nicely)

3 cloves garlic, minced

1/2 of a chipotle chili in adobo sauce, seeded and minced, plus 1 spoonful of the adobo sauce

1 28 ounce can of crushed tomatoes, with their juices

1 can black beans, drained and rinsed

1 can red kidney beans, drained and rinsed

1/2 teaspoon dried oregano

2 teaspoons ground cumin

1 tablespoon olive oil

1 teaspoon ground coriander

2 cups water

salt, freshly ground black pepper to taste

WHAT TO DO:

Heat the oil in a dutch oven or large pot over medium heat.  Add the onion, bell pepper, and carrot; cover and cook, stirring occasionally, until softened, about 8-10 minutes.  Season with salt and pepper.  Stir in the garlic and cook for about a minute.

Add the cumin and coriander and cook, stirring, for one minute.  Stir in the tomatoes, water, chipotle and adobo sauce, and oregano and bring to a boil.  Reduce the heat to medium-low and cook, partially covered, stirring from time to time, for 20-30 minutes.

Stir in the beans and continue cooking, partially covered, for 20 minutes longer, until chili is thickened.  Stir in the corn and cook until heated through.  Season with salt and pepper to taste and serve.

Notes: If the chili seems too dry towards the end, add a little water. If you like your chili a little smokier, add the other half of the pepper and another spoonful of adobo sauce.

Hubby and I ate our chili with cornbread (NOT vegan, I realize, but it was made with whole grains, and I slathered it with vegan butter.)  Very tasty!  I didn't miss the meat at all!

Yawn

Hubby (aka: Snore-y McSnores-a-lot) finally went in for his sleep study last night, to see if he has sleep apnea.  He's sort of been dreading it.  We assumed it would be at a hospital, but it ended up being at a Holiday Inn.  Bizarro?

I spoke to him a little while ago and from what I gather, they covered him with sticky suction cups and wires and every time he tried to roll onto his side, a voice over the monitor asked, "Would you please roll onto your back?"  There was an infrared light filming him constantly, all very "Twelve Monkey's," he said. 

A challenging sleep atmosphere, to say the least.  (Apparently peeing was also a bit of a production.)  But I'm certainly glad he did it!  In two weeks we should have the results; Hubby may soon be wearing a Darth Vader mask to bed...

Happy Friday, Dear Reader xoxo

Venetian peppers

My cousin Dan recently began his Freshman year of college in Boston, and I told him I wanted to cook him dinner.

"What do you like to eat, anyways?" I emailed him, to which he replied: "Oh, anything, really, except maybe...tofu.  Ha ha."

Oh Danboy, you don't even know the half of it.  Still, perhaps Hubby can cook him some meat tomorrow. 

Today I attended a 50th birthday party for my beloved uncle Jim, and when I walked in the kitchen, my auntie Kim asked, "Are you hungry?"

I was.  Starving, actually.

Much to my delight, my sweet aunt had prepared vegan stuffed peppers, especially for me! 

"Venetian stuffed peppers?" my cousin lil' Jimmy made a gagging face.  But they were actually very tasty, and I was more than a little touched at my godmother's show of culinary support.

Some time later, my auntie Donna helped herself to a stuffed pepper (stuffed with ground beef, or so she thought), and unknowingly took from the wrong tray and ended up with one of mine.  She was unpleasantly surprised at her first and only bite of Venetian stuffed pepper, but didn't want to offend her sister.  Finally, she confessed, "Kimberly, that pepper tasted funny!" 

I think soy is an acquired taste.  I, for my part, cleaned my plate.  Thanks, auntie Kimmy.  xoxo

Foul Ball

Since my husband was very young, it has been his dream to catch a foul ball at a major league baseball game. 

Over our long courtship and marriage, every time we attend a game and have good seats, Hubby says, "Oooh, this is foul ball territory!"  And I always say, "Oh no, I hope no foul balls come this way! 

I'm no dummy; I don't want a broken nose.

Hubby and I tend to indulge one another.  I think perhaps this is why the two of us work so well together.  All day today I could think of one thing and one thing only: getting home, changing into comfy pants and snuggling under my green fleece blankie.  Instead, around 4:30, I realized I had the chance to go to tonight's Red Sox game and so of course I said yes.  I knew Hubby would definitely want to go, and I do try to make him happy whenever I can.

These seats were incredible, and free; we looked online and they run about $297 a pop.  And, not for nothing, but the foul balls were flying.  Roger, the man sitting next to us, bought Hubby an IPA and warned me to watch out for the lefty batters especially, because they were the ones who would hit foul balls into our seats.  I nodded and smiled as he lectured us, and decided to really pay attention.

Aromas of heavenly beef burgers and hot dogs were wafting up into my nostrils; I was really jonesing for some meat.  Let's face it, there isn't much for my currently vegan ass to nosh on at Fenway.  But I did decide on something after a while, and Hubby was closest to the aisle so he ordered for me.

"What was that you wanted?"  Jeff, our waiter called out.

"Hummus and a chardonnay," Hubby shouted.

"Huh?"  It was pretty loud, and Jeff was far away.

"Chardonnay!"

"Peanuts and a chardonnay?"

"Hummus and a chardonnay"

He would repeat it several times; would yell it, even.  And when a foul ball was hit directly into our particular section, and bounced off of the hand of the man sitting behind me, Hubby was passing Jeff the waiter his credit card and saying, "Hummus and a chardonnay, please."

And when the elderly man sitting directly in front of my husband snatched up the foul ball and pumped his fist in the air, Hubby was still saying, "Chardonnay."

He does try to make me happy whenever he can.  Yes, my husband was ordering me white wine and hummus while the old man in front of us caught the damn foul.  I felt...bad.  This may have been the closest Hubby has ever been to catching a foul ball, and yet...that hummus was really very good. 

Trying new things

Rachael Ray's recipe for Chicken, Biscuits 'n' Gravy Casserole is...sniff...just heavenly.  Truly. 

I am currently fifteen days off of meat and dairy, and all of the websites I visit suggest I "cook what is familiar."  And so I decided to do just that.  How different could it taste, anyway?  I would simply omit the chicken and make a few minor substitutions:

Cow's milk = Rice milk

Cheddar cheese = Vegan cheddar cheese

Chicken stock = Vegetable broth

Butter = Earth Balance "buttery spread"

White flour = whole wheat pastry flour (the only whole wheat-y thing I had on hand)

I worked furiously, my hopes higher than high.  As the gravy mixture began to waft up to my nostrils, however, my hopes slowly began to deflate.  I could really smell that rice milk, and it didn't seem to blend well with the veggies.  All the same, I popped the casserole into the oven and waited.  

The consistency of that vegan cheddar kind of gives me the willies.  I reflected on this as I waited for my casserole to bake.  (Stay positive, goddammit!  It's time to baste the biscuits with the garlic butter buttery spread!)

Reader, I'd like to tell you my Tuesday night experiment was a glittering triumph; that I polished off half the pan, the way I always used to.  In reality, this dish...made me weep.  And not in a good way.  Hubby came over and sat down next to me, having just eaten a BBQ chicken sandwich, and brushed a tear from my cheek.  It was the rice milk, he suggested, or perhaps the vegetable broth; we'd buy a different brand next time.  It would be okay. 

For a moment I remained inconsolable.  "I just miss...my flavors."  I do, indeed.  Everything is so unfamiliar.  Giving up the meat was hard enough without also forgoing milk, butter, eggs and cheese.  Faced with this challenge, one has to be creative, one has to be brave.  One has to try new things.  Doesn't one? 

In any case, I could only force down a few bites.  When you adore food as much as I do, cooking familiar things in an unfamiliar fashion is downright painful.  It sure looked pretty, though. 

Still vegging...

Dear Odd Broad,

Sprouted whole wheat is not your friend.  It is the devil.  Just thought you should know.

Sincerely,

Your Ass  

xoxo

Remembering...

I was on my way to work this morning and got the ever elusive "walk" signal at a crucial point in my journey.  As I started to cross, a big rig was aggressively attempting to take a right turn.  Oh no you don't, deckhead.  If I waited for him to turn I'd never be able to cross in time!  And I was late enough as it was!

It all sounds so silly now, but in the heat of the moment this situation inspired me to utter a good deal of hearty expletives, which the driver of said big rig vigorously returned.

I'm pretty sure I called him a fucking asshole, amongst other unpleasantries.  I disregarded the horrified Berklee students who glanced my way as I crossed the street.  (Oh yes, I crossed).  So I'd sworn at a stranger and it was only 8:00 am.  Living in New York taught me that.

I was talking on my cell phone with Sissy at the time and she said, "Oh Sister, be nice.  It's September 11th."

It was.  My belly did a sick little flip flop. 

Has it really been eight years?  It seems like only yesterday.  Nanny was the first to call me, and I thought she may have been talking ragtime until I turned on the TV and saw for myself.  A plane had actually flown into the World Trade Center.  It had to have been an accident? 

It was Fashion Week and I was temping for Ralph Lauren Womenswear on 7th Avenue.  Even after the second plane hit, I remember trekking over to the N Line, still thinking I'd head into work.  But as I climbed the steps to the subway, I was told it had been shut down. 

Hubby and I had lived in New York for just over a year then, though we'd been gently resisting it.  It was filthy and gritty, and the people were just so...rude.  But everything changed that September.  We just sort of gave in.  We became New Yorkers.  We even declared a truce and rooted for the Yankees during the World Series that year.  (Of course, I think we must've jinxed them because they lost anyways.)

When I think back to that September, the same old feelings come flooding back.  The sadness, the disbelief, the helplessness, the fear, the outrage.  The city felt exposed, bruised; I wondered how things would ever be the same, how any of us could ever go back to business as usual.  But somehow, eventually, we did. 

I spent the better part of my twenties in New York and I'm a stronger person for it.  It gave me a backbone, forced me to grow up.  New York taught me to ask for help when I need it, and to not be afraid to speak up for the things I really want.  And, most importantly, it taught me that it's okay to scream obscenities in public every once in a while.  

It's September 11th, and I will never forget.  How could I?  How could anyone?

Vegging out

I've spent the past nine days eating everything but meat.  Beans, lentils, vegetables, fruit, whole grains...Holy Fiber! 

Veggie burgers.  Who knew?  I didn't. 

My sister informs me my boycott of veg and dairy is downright "obnoxious."  But I've never felt better.  And without all that milk and cheese, my muffin top is performing a mysterious disappearing act.

So are my rolls of toilet paper.