Revenge for the peaches

Squirrels, even fat ones, are nasty little buggers that move the speed of light if given the proper motivation.  College was an amazing 4 years, and during that time I was able to experience some of the most aggressive and ballsy squirrels that this country has to offer.  Bucknell University, located in Lewisburg, PA, has a wonderful animal behavior program.  In fact, I was an animal behavior major for the first two years I was there, until organic chemistry forever broke my spirit.  Anyway, the animal facility on campus regularly rotated species in and out of its doors to give the students some variety.  Before my time, squirrels were tenants of the lab.  When they were done with their sentence, they were released back on to the campus, hellbent on vengence against the students and faculty.  You could always tell which squirrels were mentally "funny" because the animal behavior lab bleached white spots above their tails.

These offbeat squirrels would run helter skelter across the campus, had no fear of people, and had bear strength.  It was not odd to see a squirrel running down the steps of the Langone Center with a slice of pizza in one hand and a Mountain Dew in the other. 

Animal Behavior Center squirrels - just not right in the head anymore.

Anyway, one day, my sophomore year, I was walking back to my dorm when I decided that my gum had lost its flavor, so I needed to throw it away.  I knew that the "funny" squirrels had an abnormal love of campus trash cans (perhaps the dark box like shape reminded them of their apartment at the Behavior Center).  It was not abnormal to see a few white butted squirrels shimmy up and down the sides of the trashcans a few times a day.  However, on THIS particular day, I tossed my gum into the trash can, and before I could react, a funny squirrel hurled itself out of the top of the trashcan and obtained a firm grip on my peacoat at chest level.  He started making terrible chirping noises.  At the time, I was enrolled in a history class that had just covered various torture techniques that involved rodents (albeit usually rats).  I naturally began to panic and started screaming and running in eratic circles while the squirrel climbed up and down my body multiple times before it jumped off and returned to the trash can, where it kept chirping.  From then on, I used extreme caution when approaching outdoor trashcans.

In light of recent events and the fact that General Kane is not an effective squirrel deterrent, I have invested in another Treeing Walker Coonhound, who I hope will be as effective as Lucy in keeping the squirrels away from my fruit and veggie supply.   It's on.

Millie, a ferocious weapon of rodent carnage.

And in the beginning...

Small, seemingly cute woodland creatures have never liked me.  This fact has always perplexed me, because I very much like them (unless they fall into the category of "squirrels who  eat my garden and manipulate my useless dogs").  It all started back when I was a wee toddler, only 3 years old, living in England.

Me, as a toddler.

I am an oldest child (a fact that neither of my sisters will let me forget), and as such, I was basically a metaphorical guinea pig* for my parents.  Anyway, one of my favorite activities while we lived in London was to go to St. James Park, because there were ducks and British teenagers with purple hair.  Anyway, one of the major differences between London and my homeland of Texas is that London is bloody cold by comparison.  My parents cared about me to an extent, and therefore bundled me up in winter jackets before my outdoor adventures.  I was small and the jacket was large, therefore causing me to lurch along in a sort of starfish-shaped slow and clumsy gallop. Then they inadvertantly found a great way to entertain themselves...

Like most children, I really got a kick out of feeding the ducks.  In an effort to cut down on the obnoxious screams of "Mommy, Daddy, more bread!" my parents decided to stuff all the pockets of my winter jacket full of it so I could be my own woman for duck-feeding endeavors.  The plan seemed great until you come face-to-face with the obvious.  Where you find ducks, you also find geese.  Unlike ducks, geese are mean, and geese are large.  Geese will also chase you, tackle you, and bite you (and possibly eat you, or so I have been told).  So there I was, barely able to propel myself forward due to my jacket, and basically holding the motherload of bread on my person.  Did you know that geese growl?  Oh yes, they sound a lot like a bear with an inconvenient itch right before they start flapping their wings while running 25 mph towards a person half their size.

The stuff of nightmares.

Needless to say, my parents found the whole scene hilarious (til the geese actually caught me, at which time they were kind enough to intervene).  Bloody good timing.

*more stories about guinea pigs to come later...

Mom Memories

Ah childhood...for me, it was a riveting series of embarrassing moments, strung together by pearls of "hindsight humor."  At the request of many of my friends, these humiliating moments will be the pearls of this blog.



I am obviously the tard in the pink jacket with my tongue out.



I had a really odd dream about a swimming rhino and a baby hippo last night, which obviously brings me back to what I consider a similar moment from my childhood.  Let me set the scene for you:  I am a 6th grader.  I was at a new school and already facing an uphill popularity battle due to the fact that the uniform place had to special order my skirts due to my tall stringbean body type (sadly those days are long gone), thus condemning me to 5 months of wearing the uniform shorts, which none of the other girls would be caught dead in.

Sooo, one evening, I am watching the news with my dad (the only tv we were allowed to watch during the week).  The circus was in town, so they sent a reporter to the scene to interview the elephant man.  For the backdrop for this interview, they chose a giant pile of elephant poop with a bunch of people milling around.  At first nothing seemed abnormal...then a wave of horror quickly swept over me.  There, very clearly, my mother appeared in the background.  She was smiling from ear to ear and vigorously shoveling elephant crap into a wheelbarrow to load into our station wagon for our flower beds.  Any hopes of denying the fact that everyone that I ever attended school with knows my mother were quickly dashed when I noticed that my mother had my little sister Emma manning the wheelbarrow.  Emma was and always has been unmistakable....tall with blinding blonde hair.  Of course this was Jack's complete lack of surprise to all of my friends, because such behavior was "soooo Mama T."  As a typical middle schooler, I, obviously, saw this as equal parts shocking and unforgiveable.

The next day I got a mix of "your mom is awesome" and "how does your car smell?" at school.  The flowers actually looked great that year.  Good times at the circus.

Guest blogger: General Kane

Hello.  My name is Kane, but you can call me The General.  Like my roommate, I am also a food expert, but a lot less picky.  Since I eat a better variety of things, I have informed Amanda that I should be a guest flogger to bring a new perspective to this flog.  I can't prepare all the fancy things that she talks about, because I lost my thumbs when I was in 'Nam.  I generally eat Purina cereal for my two major meals during the day since I am watching my figure, and snack on whatever is left on the counter by Amanda to tide me over in the afternoons.  This usually ranges from tomatoes to pomegranates, depending on what time of year it is.  As a general rule, I like to eat in a formal setting to properly honor the food, and therefore usually take my afternoon snacks on the oriental rug.  I prefer my food to be red and juicy, because I find that it improves the rug's color.

In the evenings, I enjoy a sniffer of brandy, but my roommate tells me that I shouldn't drink.  She has more rules than the army.  I am going to go see what is on the counter and then turn in for my afternoon nap.

Squirrels win again

My peaches were stolen, and the squirrels are fatter.  I am angry.  That is all.

I am a squirrel, and I love peaches, Voldemort, and Hitler.

Creative corn

I like to start simple with my seasonal food options, and corn is one of those things with a lot of options to go through.  Soooo let's start with a salad!

Buy some fresh sweet corn and slice the kernals from the cob.  With good sweet corn, there is absolutely no need to cook it and it can be eaten fresh and raw.  Buy some spinach or romaine, and on a bed of it, place your sweet corn, and some black beans (I use canned for the sake of ease).  Then, put some southwestern seasoned chicken breast.  Mix up some fat free ranch dressing with a splash of chipotle stirred in, and drizzle on the salad.  Enjoy!

The feeling that you have is jealousy

Mama T came to town last week and we decided to celebrate the 104 degree heat on Friday by going to Julep's for dinner http://juleps.net/.  This is another one of my favorite easy eats strategies - give up on cooking and go out to dinner instead, with the added bonus of making someone else pay the bill.  Anyway, let's discuss what we ate.  First of all, it is important to mention that all he food at Julep' is locally grown and the menu is based on whatever is in season, which makes a huge difference.  You can definitely tell that everything is fresh and cooked with love.

Julep's, Richmond, VA - courtesy of the restaurant website

We split some appetizers:  fried green tomatos with jalepeno lemon aioli, and molasses and bourbon braised crispy pork belly with spinach, vidalia onion and grilled watermelon.  The tomatos were not the heavy breaded variety...it was a melt in your mouth delicate fry and the lemon in the aioli was nothing short of perfection.  Pork belly - well seriously, you can never go wrong with pork belly.  It is the best part of a pig, and this is exactly why pigs are holy creatures in some cultures (though I do not understand why anyone would give up eating them).  Grilled watermelon is delicious, always.  No bbq is complete without it, quite frankly.  The whole thing was complimented by my champagne with watermelon puree.  Divine.

fried green tomatos with jalepeno lemon aioli

Main courses:  My mom went with the lump crab cakes over roasted fingerling potatos and local succotash.  Maryland gets all the credit for crabs in these parts, but I can say from my own personal crabbing experience that Virginia has the same delicious crabs.  And Virginia sweet corn is amazing.  I couldn't resist the chef's special - sauteed sea scallops over bacon mashed potatos and drizzled with fresh blackberry reduction, with blackberries grown by the chef's mother.  I ate every last morsel.  Once again, the holy pig was invoved.

Pigs are cute, and delicious.

This whole endeavor was followed up by tableside bananas foster, which my mother loudly refers to as "flaming glazed bananas," which is awk.

We eventually waddled out of there.  As I said...that feeling is jealousy.  If you make it to Richmond, I highly recommend Julep's, and please know that reservations are a must because that place fills up fast.

Martinis are always the answer

As some of my friends may recall, a few weeks ago I was REALLY excited about spreading Weed and Feed all over my yard (excited because 1. I don't do yardwork and 2. I was actually doing something other than sitting on the couch on a weekend).  Anyway, yeseterday I realized that most of my yard is now dead, which supports my position that I am more of an indoor girl (even though I really don't do any cleaning whatsoever, and I consider laundry to be an act of the devil). 

Anyway, as I was gazing over the lawn, I realized that there was really only one thing to do to fix the situation:  drink.  And so I did.  I am the queen of fake martinis -I say fake because they are usually pink, and I use vodka instead of gin.

Here is one of my favorite go-tos:

throw some ice into a shaker
put in about 4 shots of vodka (unless you are less of a woman than I, in which case 3)
then fill the rest of the shaker with about 2/3 light cranberry juice and 1/3 grapefruit tangerine juice (Giant has one of these - Ruby Red Tangerine)
Shake it up (I prefer to involve some sort of awesome dance with this to make it fancy)
Pour it into some sort of beachy looking glass and enjoy.

And thank you to Mary Q for requesting some of the classics for this blog!  I wish I had a picture to include but I already drank the whole shaker.  Oops. Settle for this:

Call me, James.

Who cares if it is rabbit food?

Weekends are always tough, because the absence of regular working hours means that there is more time to scavenge for delicious whoppers.  Soooo, again we get into culinary trickery.  I have found that I basically operate like a raccoon:  if something is shiny or colorful, it can entertain me for hours.  Since sprinkling food with diamonds would be a waste, and decorating it with glitter would be downright dangerous, I usually go with color.  Sidenote:  I know glitter is dangerous, because I got a piece lodged in my eye when I was a kid.  At the time I noticed it, I had been seeing how long I could stare at the sun (I wish I was joking).  I thought for years that the glitter came from the sun.  Anyway, my mom had to lock me into a vice grip so that a very nasty doctor could use a NEEDLE to get the damn metal out of my eye, and then I had to wear an eye patch to school for a week (yarrrrrr!).  So yes, glitter is dangerous.

Salads bore me, so I have to get sassy with mine in order to launch them into the irresistable category.  Here is one of my favorites:

Lay down a nice bed of baby spinach
slice some strawberries or ripe peaches and pop them on to the spinach
Sprinkle on some crumbled goat cheese (you can find this near the crumbled bleu cheese in most grocery stores)
tear up some cooked chicken breast and put it on top (I usually use Oscar Meyer Southwestern flavored chicken strips for the sake of ease)

If you are going with a side salad, take off the chicken to keep it a side, but usethe chicken for a meal to keep the protein up.  You can use balsalmic vinagrette or you can go with my favorite dressing for this salad - reduced fat poppyseed dressing.  It is delish.

Culinary trickery for dieters

Diets.  Diets SUCK.  For the most part, diets also do not work because I get very irritable and aggressive and will end up pouncing on a small child and stealing his delicious Whopper without any hint of remorse.  There is, of course, the bribe system:  “If you lose ten pounds, you can buy another (10) pair(s) of shoes.”  That will work only until you realize you can go spend money you don’t have without achieving any accomplishment, and you end up with shoes and a Whopper which is a self rewarding and dangerous path to go down. 

So anyway, the point is that in order to have any chance of diet success, I have to resort to trickery.  Whoa, a lawyer using trickery, imagine that! *insert the lawyer jokes*  Life advice: self-trickery is always acceptable, unless you have an ugly baby…you just can’t spring an ugly baby on people while wailing about how cute he/she is  (yeah, I said it, hold your hate mail because though it may be harsh, it is true, and victims need to know that it will lead to awkward social situations).

One of my favorite healthy tricks these days is what I like to call “fro’ yo’, just kidding!”  As with all my food suggestions, the result is super easy and delicious and satisfying.  The key is low or nonfat vanilla Greek yogurt.  I highly recommend Chobani…it is more expensive than a lot of the other brands out there, but with this dish, texture and taste are VERY important to its purpose.  Chop up either strawberries or peaches and throw it on top of a serving of the vanilla Chobani.  Throw it in the freezer for about 5 – 10 mins to chill, and the taste and texture = fro yo with fresh fruit.  The Greek yogurt is high protein, which is super duper for a good diet.  The whole thing is filling and it makes you feel like you are eating dessert instead of a very healthy dinner.  You can adjust quantities of course to whether you’d like it as a meal vs. a snack, etc., but there ya go…trickery that works.  No Whopper today.

Green thumb: win (sort of)

Well aside from the aggressive insects and physical obstacles to actually planting things in the ground, I have had some mini sucesses in my quest to grow things onsite.  I had a big strong man plant some fruit trees for me - dwarf peach and nectarine.  Kane, the artichoke-stealing doberman, took it upon himself to personally see to it that the nectarine tree is adequately watered, and therefore, as expected, there is no fruit and the trunk has turned a strange shade of charred black.  The peach tree, however, is doing pretty well...

They are almost ripe enough to eat, so I am hoping they remain little tree ninjas for now (more on this later).

I also have a nice little deck garden going.  In the past I usually throw in some cucumbers, jalapenos, sweat peas, strawberries, and tomatos.

Deeeelish.  Anyway, let's discuss what happened this year.  I have a ROUS infestation.  I swear, the squirrels in my yard are so damn huge that they can't possibly be purebred....right now I am debating whether they are hybrids made with the help of a junkyard dog, or possibly a very aggressive miniature donkey.  They don't just nibble the food....these things actually harvest it.  I saw one pick a giant tomato off my plant and throw it over his shoulder into a fireman carry before sauntering back up the closest tree.  What went wrong?  Why could I get to the point of harvesting luscious deck goodness last year without a scrap for myself this year?  Lucy.  Yes, remember that dog that wouldn't save me from my housefire?  She passed away earlier this year, and apart from leaving me absolutely heartbroken, that unfortunate event has also led the squirrels to double in size.  You see, Lucy was a treeing walker coonhound, and therefore naturally will follow the squirrel up the tree and keep them up there for as long as necessary, and when she was around, the squirrels decided that the deck bounty was not worth the anxiety.

"Do you see that thing that looks like a steak?  It used to be a squirrel." -Lucy



"This is the prison that I built for the squirrels. I like to poke my head in to laugh at them MWAH HA Haaa" -Lucy

Now The Goose is gone, and Kane, though he looks scary enough to guard the gates of hell, is completely incompetent when it comes to killing anything that dogs are supposed to kill.  His usual strategy when he sees one of these fat monsters is to run, apply the brakes a little too late, and fall down 10 feet of deck stairs, and then run around the yard barking for 5 minutes looking at the ground.  The squirrels don't even run for the tree.  They slowly waltz at this point, AFTER Kane skids past.  This is why they are the size of pekingnese.

"The beach is that way." -Kane

I have resorted to desperate measures including lots and lots of cayenne pepper all over my deck and railings.  One time I ran out and used garlic, assuming that vampires and giant squirrels are similar in a lot of ways.  I have also been known to burst out of the backdoor yelling things in an attempt to cause some rodent PTSD.  That worked for a while, but then the squirrels showed their true colors.  They like to stretch out and nap on the deck railings now.  They mock me.  Even worse, they have turned Kane.  Now, the first thing Kane does when he goes outside is eat my strawberries and clean off the tomato plants.  WTF giant squirrel mafia?! As you can tell, the battle is raging, and I will not give up.

Things I never see anymore thanks to the squirrel conspiracy.

Green thumb: fail

As many of my friends will tell you, I get these crazy ideas in my head for hobbies that I am initially really excited about and then either quickly lose interest or suffer some sort of disheartening injury that ruins the entire experience for me.  Gardening is really no different, except for the fact that I am a little more stubborn about it than most things.

I have inherited my mother's skills for killing plantlife, though I like to think that I have taken it to a new level.  In law school, I actually managed to kill a cactus.  Yes, a Texan not only couldn't keep the cactus alive, but actually demolished all signs of life and extinguished its little plant soul.  I am currently in the process of methodically (though unintentionally) eliminating the very expensive landscaping that accompanied my house when I bought it two years ago.  This, however, has taken a great deal of effort that is not to be overlooked.

When I first moved in, I immediately set up some window boxes on the railing of the front porch.  I bought all the necessary components to plant some lovely trailing impatients and set out to complete the planting process.  I am on my porch making everything look pretty as I dig around the potting soil and get the little baby plants situated nicely when I think to myself, "Hmmm what is that really weird humming noise?"  All of a sudden something hits my neck and I used my dirt covered hand to smack at it.  All of a sudden hundreds of things start smacking me and then the stinging began.  Yep, yellowjackets.  Angry ones.  I managed to do a Matrix-esque dive through my front door which I immediately followed with a sobbing phone call to my exterminator's voicemail and enjoyed hideous disfigurement for a week before I could face finishing my window boxes.

Then I decided to plant a cherry tree, in spite of the fact that my property is best described as "wooded" (though not with pretty cherry trees).  I needed a hole that was about 1 foot deep and 1 foot across.  Three hours later and with the assistance of bolt cutters, I managed to get through enough of the sub-surface root layer to stuff the sapling in and pounce on top of it til it almost fit.  I lurched around for a week after that funfest.

I refuse to weed my flowerbeds, because that's where the bugs live.  There is also a very nasty stray cat that tends to camp out under one of my azalea bushes, and he scares me.  I figure the landscaping's best shot at success is for me not to touch it which probably explains it looks like the beginning of a hoarder house.

So you get the idea...not so great with plants or manual labor.  The point is, I try hard, and I entertain my neighbors while doing so.

This is my current garden gear. I don't mess around.

How to: Artichokes are scary!

Artichokes intimidate a lot of people...let's face it, they are the porcupine of the vegetable world.  However, once you conquer your first 'choke, you are a pro'.

I never cut off the spikes.  "Chefs" and even some "cooks" will tell you that it is proper to cut the leaves for presentation purposes, but I think that's ridiculous.  It takes too much time, and the spikes will slow you down, and your stomach will realize you are full by the time you are done (before you reach for the Ben & Jerry's...preferably Americone Dream, but I digress).

Peel each leaf, one by one.  The little ones at the beginning and center are the hardest to negotiate, but do not get frustrated.  There you are, face to face with a concave leaf with a quill on the end.  Ooooo, scary!  Hold it by the spike end (though, I recommend, not directly on the spike itself).  Dip it into your sauce of choice.  Your goal:  use your teeth (upper or lower, I really don't care) to scrape the soft inside of the leaf.  See, that's not so bad!  Hurl all scraped leaves across the table at whoever dares to sit next to you (they are probably trying to steal your 'choke, so the best defense is a good offense and when it comes to food, family is the last group of people you can trust).

Eat your way down to the feathery stuff in the middle.  Artichokes have the same rules as lobster (and life, really):  Do not eat anything sharp or feathery, because it tastes like crap and gets stuck in your teeth.  So you are to the feathers and are feeling pretty good about yourself.  You aren't done yet, chief!  Use a spoon to scrape out the feathers (use spoon as catapoult to hurl feathers at aforementioned family).  What you are left with is the cooked stalk and the artichoke heart.  Dip that sucker into your dip and eat and enjoy!  Floss after the process is done.

See, I'm not so scary afterall!

Fiber: Get you some! Artichokes

Like most gals my age (let's just say over 25), I am forever on a diet.  Whether I am strict about it or not is an entirely separate issue, of course.  But anyway, my diet goes with a mix of high fiber healthy crap (in so many ways) and high protein/low fat.  Does it work?  When you actually stick to it, yes.  As always, laziness is key.  What is a good diet go-to and the easiest thing of all time to prepare?  An artichoke.  Oh yes, in your FACE, devil of the diet!  I found something that will taste good, will be easy to make, and will make me lose weight.  Save your delicious pizza for a weaker being.

What you need:  a large artichoke, light mayo, apple vinegar, balsalmic vinegar, and a large pot with water.

How to:
Cut the tip off the stem of the artichoke.
   *Note:  Throw the tip of the stem away.  If you leave it on the counter, your very bad counter-height doberman will grab it.  As you chase him while threatening to use your flip flop as a sorority paddle, the dog will naturally panic and attempt to swallow the evidence whole.  He will then begin to choke, and you will need to forego the flip flop plan in favor of the canine Heimlich, which is something that I am sadly an expert at performing.

Fill the pot up with water, to about an inch under the top of the pot.  Throw the artichoke in there and turn the heat on medium and let it sit for about an hour.  If you want to get really fancy, you can rotate the 'choke every now and then.

In the last 5 mins of cooking, prepare the dip: per serving, about 1/3c light mayo, mix in 1 tbsp cider vinegar, 1 tsp balsalmic, and mix thoroughly.  Adjust vinegar to taste depending on how tart you like it.

Voila, dip and enjoy!  I usually enjoy it with a glass of skim milk to throw in some protein.

How to bring down the house - fried food win

After taking two years off from attempting fried food, I revisited the idea with something that makes a heart attack worth it - fried soft shell crab BST (bacon, sprouts, tomato).  Success, finally.

Track down some soft shell crabs at the grocery store and remove the plate of the crab (the only non edible part of a soft shell...it often already comes prepared by the grocery store so you may or may not have to do this)

Put the soft shell crabs in a bowl and cover with buttermilk and let them soak in the fridge for an hour.
In the meantime, make a mixture of flour, salt, and pepper.  I wish I could tell you how much, but like most things in life, I just winged it til it looked pretty.

Heat oil to 375 F - see previous blog post for warnings.

Coat the buttermilk crabs in the flour mixture on both sides, and drop into the oil.  Warning: The crabs can pop when frying, so stand clear of the pan (I like to do the "hurl the crab and run" method).  Cook the crabs til golden brown on each side (about 4 mins per side, give or take)

While the crabs are cooking, throw some bread slices into the toaster, and slice up some tomato.  Also, throw some bacon into the microwave (yes, I am a lazy one).  When the crabs are done frying, place them on some paper towels to drain off the excess oil and to crisp up.

Dress the toast with mayo, sprouts (I prefer alfalfa), tomato slices, bacon, and the crab and voila!  Win.

How to bring the house down - fried food fail

I am a good little southern gal, and yet I didn't try to fry anything until I was 27 years old (sidenote:  I miss being so young).  I watch Food Network with the vigor of a starving child that you see on infomercials, and got really excited about a recipe for beer battered tilapia.  I got all the ingredients together and heated the oil up, battered my tilapia filets and threw them into the pan.  This resulted in an explosive mushroom cloud of black, smelly, scalding smoke erupting in my kitchen.  The recipe of course assumed a basic level of kitchen competence and didn't bother to inform me that things such as oil temperature are important to consider when it comes to frying.  My dog Lucy had been trying to kill me/escape imprisonment for years, and she let out a howl and flew out the backdoor without so much as a glance back in my direction (Lassie, she was not).

Amid the wailing of the smoke alarm, I removed the pot from the stove and I opened the only two windows in the house that weren't painted shut, as well as the backdoor and the front door.  I lived in a nice neighborhood at the time, but as many of my friends will tell you, I have the uncanny ability to attract very unique and imbalanced individuals.  As such, I thought it would be wise to sit on the front steps of my house so that no one would feel the urge to sneak into my house, in spite of the fact that it was very obviously on fire.  I tried to get Lucy to come sit with me, but she was busy bravely hiding behind the shed at the time, and her growl told me that she didn't want to walk through the kitchen to get to the front stoop.  It took 4 hours before I could breathe in the house again.  I learned two valuable lessons that day: 1. find out what temp the oil should be before you throw bits of meat into it, and 2. in a city like mine, your neighbors will not call the fire department under any circumstance.

Lucy, not saving me from danger.

Welcome! The warm-up

Well kids, here we go... a blog about what goes on in my head.  As you will soon discover, that list is sadly pretty short.  However, the two most interesting things that I tend to think about are food and the day-to-day entertaining events in my life.  I like both my food and my life to be as easy as possible, which probably explains why I refuse to do yardwork or learn how to make mashed potatos.  So, this blog is a mixture of recipes for entertaining and recipes for entertainment.