nakedjen

Just Invite Yourself Over!

“Globalized industrialized food is not cheap: it is too costly for the Earth, for the farmers, for our health. The Earth can no longer carry the burden of groundwater mining, pesticide pollution, disappearance of species and destabilization of the climate. Farmers can no longer carry the burden of debt, which is inevitable in industrial farming with its high costs of production. It is incapable of producing safe, culturally appropriate, tasty, quality food. And it is incapable of producing enough food for all because it is wasteful of land, water and energy. Industrial agriculture uses ten times more energy than it produces. It is thus ten times less efficient."

Dr. Vandana Shiva, scientist, world-renowned author, and grassroots leader in India. Member of the Policy Advisory Board of the Organic Consumers Association.

If you want to continue your efforts to eat a local meal, why not invite your neighbors over for a potluck to share the bounty of your organic garden?  Or if you don't have a garden, you can still have a potluck and share some of the bounty from your weekly CSA delivery or what you purchased at the farmers market. 

The beauty of a shared meal is that you don't have to do all the cooking, but you get to sample lots of different and delicious foods.  Plus there's the added benefit of excellent company and excellent conversation.

Last night, we had just such a gathering in the garden at my friends Sam and Gregg's house.  The theme for the night was Indian food.  We all made various vegan entrees and shared a great California wine while noshing around the table until nearly midnight!

It was perfectly lovely. 

My contributions were a vegan organic vegetable Tikka Masala and an organic vegan Baigan Bharta. (Recipes after the fold). Samantha used her slow cooker to make a delicious vegan vegetable curry!

Seriously, Indian food is quite simple to make, especially if you have all the right spices.  And those are quite easy to obtain if you've got an Indian market in your neighborhood.  Living in Salt Lake, I've got one just up the street.

We all had such a nice time, that we're already planning our next get together. 

Again, we shared local produce, we shared good company, and we shared great conversation.  All right in our backyard.  Go next door, invite your neighbors over and have an impromptu local feast.  I promise, your taste buds and your stomach will not regret it.

Play Dead

We're still sticking to our efforts to be healthy around here.  I must say that the dogs are WORN OUT from all the walking.  No, seriously.  They spend the rest of the day like they're taking very strict classes with Lee Strasberg at the Actor's Studio in playing DEAD.  We walk in the door, they eat their breakfast and then each assumes the DEAD DOG position and neither moves until about 6:00 p.m. when one or the other of them will lift a head to assure me that they are, in fact, still alive and raise an eyebrow (but nothing more) to inquire about an evening walk and dinner?

I know part of this is because it is so bloody hot here.  Not just hot.  Bloody hot.  I know there are some people who believe that it is not hot in Utah.  That it is pleasant.  That this weather is far preferable to the freezing temperatures we experience for most of the year when that white stuff falls randomly and without rhyme or reason from the sky, but for me, the Coastal California girl, this is BLOODY HOT.  I get sticky and feel as if my skin is melting right off my own face.

So, while I sit here with my skin making a pool on the floor around my DEAD DOGS, I contemplate eating a more healthy diet.  If I'm going to have my skin melting off my body, it can at least be healthy skin, right?

Of course now that I've said that, I'm going to share a recipe that isn't actually all that healthy.  However, I was craving something sweet.  And I was inspired by this recipe.  Actually, I'm often very inspired by quite a lot on that website and highly recommend that you mark it among your own favorites if you cook even somewhat regularly. 

The other day I went to my "secret store" and scored 2 pints of organic raspberries for just $2.  Yes, you read that correctly.  I also got 4 pounds of organic watermelon for $1.  Yes, again, you read that correctly.  We're so lucky to have the secret store here in Salt Lake City.  Of course next week I won't be able to get raspberries or watermelon, but there will be OTHER things that are just as good. 

I wanted to make something yummy with those raspberries.  And that recipe intrigued me.  However, I really am doing my best to eat a vegan diet these days.  And that recipe?  It is decidedly not vegan.  Butter, Eggs, Buttermilk!  All very much not part of the vegan diet.  In fact, a lot of sugar is not even vegan.

So, I made my own vegan version. 

ready to go in the oven. fresh from the oven!

I will admit that since moving to Salt Lake City, I have had to make some adjustments to my cooking, especially my pastry cooking, because of the altitude.  But I will share that this recipe turned out pretty darn tasty!  The combination of salt and sugar is really quite lovely.  And I'm so happy to have this as a morning option after walking the dogs.

They can play dead.  It just means more raspberries for me!

Perfect Bruschetta and a BIG ASS FAVOR!

It's a well known fact to friends of Nakedjen (that would be me) that I am somewhat picky about the food that I eat.  Actually, the term somewhat is rather relative because to ME I am somewhat picky about what I eat.  To everyone else, I am nearly impossible about what I eat.  Going out to eat with me is always a challenge because there never seems to be anything on the menu that I actually want and if there is something I want, I want to change it.  Meaning that instead of the creamed spinach that comes with the entree, I'll beg them to give me the garlic mashed potatoes that come with that other entree instead.  Or instead of the any of the entrees, I'll ask them to just bring me a plate of all the side vegetables that are being served that night.  Or to make me their eggs benedict without the eggs, without the ham, but add some sliced tomatoes and spinach on the muffins and, oh yes, keep the hollandaise sauce. 

I make the waiters and waitresses of this world crazy.  But...I do tip them veryveryvery well for all the trouble.

Now, in addition to all of this, I'm also always in search of the perfect bruschetta.  Why it is so difficult for otherwise decent Italian restaurants to manage making a classic bruschetta is something that still stymies me.  Poor DearSweetDave has been my companion more times than he probably cares to remember as I've ordered the bruschetta in hopes that it would fulfill my fantasies only to have something less than edible appear.  And then he's listened as I've whined and moaned and carried on and threatened to go back in the kitchen and teach the chef how to make a proper bruschetta because I really do think it is a crime against humanity when you have bruschetta on your menu and then you just butcher it.

Yesterday afternoon was a glorious sunny afternoon in Santa Cruz.  A picture perfect day.  The kinds of days were supposed to have EVERY SINGLE DAY, but have not had very often at all, lately.  We've been socked in gray and dismal weather for what feels like an eternity and I don't know who did something wrong to piss off the weather goddess, but when I find out, I will certainly be giving them an ear full of Nakedjen pissoffedness.

With the sun shining and the weather so warm we could wear t-shirts and sandals, DearSweetDave suggested we go to Felton and try out a restaurant he'd been wanting to try for what felt like an eternity.  It even had outside seating.  We could eat and enjoy the day!  A perfect combination. 

So we drove to Felton (which isn't very far, but far enough that we drove) and found La Bruschetta tucked under the redwoods just below Henry Cowell Park.  There were loads of picnic tables outside and we were encouraged to just choose the one we wanted.  We chose one that was half sunny and half shady.  Fresh foccacia bread and garlic infused olive oil as well as kalamata olives instantly appeared.  I liked this place already! 

Our waiter was more than helpful.  He started rattling off all the specials and then when he learned that it was our first visit he also told us about he "secret" menu that included dishes the kitchen could make but that you'd never know about unless you were a regular.  The restaurant also boasted it's own bruschetta menu with about seven different kinds of bruschetta. 

I won't lie.  They all sounded rather yummy and tempting.  But I am a classic bruschetta girl.  A girl who wants her bruschetta on toast rubbed just so with the freshest olive oil and garlic cloves, topped with chopped organic tomatoes, basil and more garlic and a drizzle of, yes, more olive oil.  The bread needs to be warm.  The tomatoes perfectly ripe. 

It's a tall order, especially on the final day of April.  And I was willing to be forgiving about the quality of the tomatoes, but I had to order the bruschetta and find out if these folks might just possibly know what they're doing.

I told our waiter I was a bruschetta snob.  That I had to give it a whirl.  And then DearSweetDave and I ordered the special roasted beet salad, the baked gnocchi and the talpia all to share.  We were having a feast!

I knew the moment that the bruschetta arrived that I was not going to be disappointed.  It was picture perfect.  But even more importantly?  It tasted even better than it looked.  The tomatoes and basil and garlic were combined exquisitely.  There were just the right amounts of each one so that no one flavor dominated the others.  What you got with each bite was a quick trip to Italy.  La Dolce Vita in your mouth.  Total and complete heaven. 

Even DearSweetDave noticed that they had rubbed the bread just right with the garlic.  It was warm, it was toasted just so, did I mention that it was heaven? 

I was so happy I wanted to go in and KISS the chef.  And order another round.  Oh the sweet goodness of those tomatoes.  Where on earth had they found them?  Perfection.

The rest of the meal did not disappoint either.  Every course was just as good as the one before.  The restaurant prides itself on using all organic ingredients where possible and you all know this made Nakedjen's mouth and stomach a happy mouth and stomach, indeed. 

I was so glad that DearSweetDave had suggested we try this restaurant.  We're definitely going back.  We realized we don't often drive to restaurants anymore because we live downtown.  So we walk.  We eat at the places within walking distance.  But that bruschetta will definitely have me driving to Felton for more.

A CALL TO MY FAITHFUL READERS FOR A BIG ASS FAVOR!!!

Did any of you, any one of you, happen to Tivo or tape West Wing last night (4/30)?  DearSweetDave and I would like to see the episode.  If you did and you'd like to send me a tape, I'd be evereverever so grateful.  My mailing address is:  Nakedjen  P.O. Box 1198  Santa Cruz, CA 95061  I can send $$ for postage and handling and the tape or DVD, if you'd like.  Just let me know.

Let's Get the Mayo Off the Page, Shall We?

For your organic enjoyment.  Since that movie is coming out today, I really couldn't resist the force now could I?

Does it bother anyone else, but me, that the folks at Mars are now selling "dark side" M&M's?  I'm all for dark chocolate anything, but do we want kids purposefully choosing and associating themselves with the evil dark side? 

Think about it. 

5 Not So Simple Questions

I have been interviewed by the lovely and amazing Bakerina.  My responses follow.

1. What is your earliest memory?

My earliest memories are all olfactory.  The smell of my grandmother Nana’s perfume as she picked me up from my crib, the smell of my grandpa Neal’s cigar, and the smell of scotch on the breath of my father.  Small wonder that these are all smells that still create quite dramatic physical responses from me 40 years later. 

2. Have you ever been to Minneapolis?  If no, would you like to go?  (Yes, a compound question.)

I have been to Minneapolis.  My first response when reading this question was, “Of course, I’ve been.  I’m a deadhead.”  However, then I realized that I actually have never seen the Grateful Dead in Minneapolis since the one time they played there was in 1969.  However, I am a deadhead, so of course, I’ve been to Minneapolis.  I stopped there and stayed for a night during a road trip that took me from Washington, D.C. up to Montreal, across part of Canada, down through the twin cities and eventually landed me at Red Rocks in Colorado.  This trip ended with my leaving my car in Indiana where it probably still is today and somehow finding a way to fly back to Washington, D.C. despite not having any money.  More on that story later if you remind me.  I can report that Minneapolis at that time was a fine city as cities go, but I also remember thinking it wasn’t a place I ever wanted to actually live. 

3. Dark chocolate, milk chocolate, white chocolate, all of the above or none of the above?  Why?

Dark Chocolate. Hands down.  But not just any dark chocolate.  European dark chocolate.  With way more fat content than should ever truly be consumed but without makes your chocolate just not taste like chocolate.  I’m particularly fond of dark chocolate with at least 70% fat.  And because it tends to exacerbate my seizures, I also have to avoid it.  Since I live in America where chocolate is just plain dreadful, it’s easier than one might think. 

I have never, never, never understood white chocolate.  Chocolate cannot be white.  It simply doesn’t taste like chocolate to me.  And milk chocolate is missing out on all that chocolaty goodness, so why bother with milk chocolate if you can have dark?  At least that’s my philosophy and I’m sticking with it.

4. Have you ever fallen in love with a character from a novel, short story or poem?

Absolutely.  Mostly female characters, I discovered when really thinking about this question.  Although I will admit to having quite a thing for Jay Gatsby.  So much so that I named a lovely Golden Retriever after him.  But I also loved Jordan and named a Dalmatian after her as well.  Then there’s just about any female character to be found in the novels of Tom Robbins.  They’ve been the subjects of more than one fantasy.  Of course, there was also Guinnevere in The Once and Future King.  Everyone else was pining for Lancelot, I was lusting after her. Having discussed this with Dave over dinner last night, he wondered why I lust after the women in literature but not in real life.  Of course, I do lust after women in real life.  I just happened to have chosen him as my husband. 

5. What is your favorite kind of toast?  If you do not like toast, feel free to substitute any similar food that leaves you feeling warm and scrummy.

French toast.  Crème Brule French Toast to be exact.  Although cinnamon toast comes a close second.  But give me French Toast with real butter and just a touch of real maple syrup and I’m one very content and happy girl.

Rules of the game, provided by Alicia:

1 - Leave a comment, saying you want to be interviewed.
2 - I will respond; I'll ask you five questions.
3 - You'll update your journal with my five questions, and your five answers.
4 - You'll include this explanation.
5 - You'll ask other people five questions when they want to be interviewed.

 

2003 May Now Rest In Peace

Before I jump into a brand new year, a year ripe with possibilities, a year when perhaps even I will finally decide what it is that I want to be when I grow up (of course that means that I might also have to grow up and that will take some doing in and of itself), I must conclude the last year with one final very long ramble-on post that includes bits and pieces of things that I’ve been thinking of over the last week or so and really want to include here before tearing off that December calendar page and jumping into January.

I don’t care that it is already January and that this post will in fact reflect that.  It’s my blog and since it’s my blog, I’m going to take the liberty to stay in 2003 for just a little while longer to reflect on some things that feel important to me even if they may seem trivial to others.

First, of course, is shopping.  One of my favorite topics and lately an activity fraught with angst and worry for me.  In my old life, the life I enjoyed in early November when I had a job that I really didn’t like so well but that paid all the bills, I loved to shop.  Shopshopshop.  Especially for very fine shoes and very fine clothing items.  Oh the joy I experienced when I found the perfect pair of shoes or that sexiest black dress. 

Last Sunday, I went shopping.  Before I even went I was filled with slight trepidation as I know the current status of our bank account and am well aware that we are both currently job seekers (as Billy would say) and the money is not exactly rolling in to replace the money that is rolling out for daily living expenses here in Santa Cruz.  However, Matt and Lisa were going to hit the post-holiday sales and since this included a trip to Santana Row among other places I joined in for the fun. 

The Universe was both helpful and hurtful that day.  There was nothing to buy.  Quite literally there was nothing even on sale.  Well, that’s not entirely true.  There were things on sale.  Just nothing anyone who thinks clearly would actually want to purchase.  That was until I entered Nordstroms in an effort to use their Ladies Room.  Here’s where the Universe decided to truly test my resolve.

I managed to make my way past all the beautiful and amazing shoes that were quite literally making catcalls to me as I walked past trying my best to avoid them.  Despite their “Hey Baby, look at me” incantations, I remained strong in my resolve not to touch them or ask the price, lest I be tempted to try one or two on just for kicks and then succumb to the feel of hand-tooled leather on my little feet and a thought that if I don’t get these perfect shoes right this very minute I might simply perish.  Those of you who do not suffer as a shoe fetishist can not possibly relate, I’m sure.  But I am talking to those of you who know exactly why Imelda Marcos had all those shoes in her many closets.  I know that YOU completely understand.

It took all my strength, will and resolve to keep walking for the escalators and skip the shoe department.  I’ll admit that once on the escalators I did contemplate running back down and throwing myself prostrate at the bottom of the Manalo Blahnik display (oh if you could have just seen the lovely pink paisley numbers) but as there were many gray-haired old ladies who followed me onto the escalator and knowing I would probably have trampled at least one as I elbowed my way back down, I refrained. 

Phew.  I thought I was safe.

Thought, that is, until I got off the escalator on the second floor and headed towards the Ladies Room. 

The second floor of this particular Nordstrom is where all the designer clothing resides.  I had left the designer shoes and delivered myself into the designer clothing racks.  And they were having a sale.  Sixty percent off on some of those one of a kind items if you could find your size.  Racks and racks of lovelylovelylovely things were sitting there just taunting and teasing me. 

I stopped.  I looked.  I couldn’t believe that the D&G jeans were only $99.  There was the cutest pink wool suit by Moschino for just $249.  A steal, really.  And oh my, was that really a Roberto Cavelli dress?  I will even admit that I took things off the rack and held them up to my body.  Then I’d look at the price tag, shake my head that the discount was so grand and put it back on the rack.  I have a closet over-flowing with designer clothes.  I don’t even have a job.  Those beautiful things would have to stay right where they were.

So I pushed my way through.  I was on a mission.  The Ladies Room called.  And I was only fifteen feet away at this point.  I could make it.  I had willpower.  Nothing could stop me. 

Nothing that is, except a certain blush pink dress by Michael Kors. 

The exact dress worn by Sarah Jessica Parker's character Carrie on an episode of Sex and the City this season.  A dress so nearly perfect that when I saw it in just the preview for the show I exclaimed to Dave, “I’ve got to find that dress!”  And Dave laughed and wondered aloud why I needed yet another fancy dress when I don’t wear half the ones already hanging in my closets. 

There it was.  Hanging by itself between me and the Ladies Room.  And because I needed to be completely tormented, it was my size exactly. 

I picked it up.  It was only $398.  Yes, only.  I thought only when I picked it up.  I thought only as I held it up to me and felt how absolutely perfect it was.  I thought only as I felt the silk and noticed the details and the seams.  I thought only as I carried it with me towards the cashier.  I continued thinking only as I looked around at Michael Kors Spring collection that is predominantly pinks and yellows and oranges and thought to myself how cute some of those things would be, too.  I thought only until I snapped out of it for goodness sake! 

$398 is not in our budget right now.  Not even close.  So just as I was about to hand that perfect little party dress to the nice cashier lady at Nordstrom my bladder suddenly reminded me about the Ladies Room, I snapped back to reality and I quickly jumped out of line.  The perfect little blush pink party dress was going back on the rack.  I was going to the Ladies.  Our bank account would remain intact.  And that was that.  Disaster narrowly averted, perfect pink dress left for another lucky size 8. 

On Tuesday afternoon we were invited to the Fossgreen’s house for dinner.  Don Fossgreen works for the company that used to employ both Dave and me.  In other words, he’s a former co-worker and he’s a very lovely and kind and generous person.  His wife, Veronique, is from France.  She’s equally lovely and kind and generous. They have two sons, Alex and Paul.  I learned a lot about Don and Veronique and their children during the course of that dinner.  Things I had never known or even thought to ask while we were co-workers.  Things that made me love him and his family even more.

The Fossgreen’s live in a very nice house in Scotts Valley.  Dave and I learned that is was once just a shack and that they’ve done extensive remodeling projects over the years to make it what it is today.  They claim they are still not finished.  I guess that’s what happens when you buy a house.  There’s always a project. 

Their house is so comfortable and inviting.  They’ve done a marvelous job of making it a real home.  They’ve got a huge backyard where they’ve put in a patio and a hot tub.  Dave and I were given a tour and learned all about how during renovations they first lived in a trailer (with two small boys) and then in the garage, splitting it right down the middle with all of their furniture! 

We all helped make dinner together.  Ratatouille, wild rice, salmon, bread with a garlic parsley butter (that was so good you wanted to lick it off your fingers) and salad with a wonderful lemon and garlic vinaigrette. All of that was served with the most delicious red wine that Don had chosen from his extensive cellar.  And even though we were stuffed, we still managed to follow everything with a delightful cheese course.  You can never have too much cheese!

It was at dinner that I learned that Alex, who is 14, is a huge Danny Elfman fan.  I have to tell you that I was very impressed by this.  How many 14 year olds do you know that even know whom Danny Elfman is?  I shared with Alex my own love for Danny and the fact that I had met him once since he was once the boyfriend of a former boss of mine. 

Actually, I was very impressed with both of Don’s kids because they are such unique and gregarious individuals and you can tell from talking with both of them that they have been nurtured to see the world with their own eyes and to make their own decisions.  That will serve them well.

We ended the evening with a long discussion on movies, especially French ones, and books and a soak in the hot tub munching on cherries.  It was a great evening and Dave and I are excited to return the invitation.

Our New Year’s Eve began with no plans.  A few calls around to our friends proved that everyone else was otherwise engaged.  Dave and I went downtown to see the annual New Years Eve First Night parade and then stopped by the steps of the Civic Center where our friend Max was performing with his improv troupe.  We came home and were contemplating a hot tub and massage, but all the hot tub/massage places were closed for the evening.  So then we figured we’d go get some sushi, see Peter Pan and then hit the clock tower to ring in the New Year with our fellow Santa Cruzans. 

However, our friends Aaron and Aleks called and invited us to dinner at Takara (another sushi restaurant).  Well, we wanted sushi, so why not?  We decided we could go meet them for sushi, perhaps hit Heartwood afterwards (Heartwood is another hot tub place that was actually closing last night so it was free for everyone who wanted to come), and then still possibly hit the movie and the clock tower to ring in the new year.

Well that was the plan.  But as 2003 taught both of us well, plans don’t always go as planned.  Dinner was fun.  Dan, a longtime friend of Aaron and Aleks was there with them and I always find him rather entertaining.  He has recently done the Forum and even did EST long ago, so I had no shortage of things to talk about with him.  He also has family in Philadelphia and insisted on calling them at 9:00 p.m. to wish them all a happy new year.  Aaron and Aleks told us about the drive back and forth to Salt Lake City where they had gone for the holidays.  And they talked about playing poker with Aleks’ family.  Which shifted the conversation to cards.

Suddenly it was decided that we’d all go over to A&A’s house to play poker and soak in their hot tub.  Off we all went.  Poker was played.  And played.  And played some more.  Since there were no poker chips in the house, we used Monopoly money.  We played Texas Hold-Em until well after the delayed ball had dropped in Time’s Square (we flipped it on with ten seconds to spare).  We never did get in the hot tub, but A&A promise we’ll soak when we return on Saturday night.  They’re having us over for dinner and movies and maybe some games. 

Today was spent dodging rain drops, saying good-bye to my electric blue umbrella which suffered a horrible death thanks to the wind accompanying all the rain, and in search of the perfect calendar(s) at our local bookshop that was having a huge sale.  I didn’t find the perfect calendar(s), but we did meet Matt and Lisa and went to Lulu’s for coffee and pie and conversation.  Conversation about our job searches and the possible move to either New York or LA.  For those keeping score, New York is winning by a landslide, but San Francisco has now entered the competition.  Dave has decided that he will get a job that supports us and spent much of today looking for one.  One that means I don’t have to worry about the money situation (except when pink dresses scream my name and are 60% off and I think they’re only $398…I think then, I will have to worry about the money situation and figure out how such a perfect pink confection will be acquired).  But he’s up for the challenge of helping to make my life not so challenging.  I do believe he’s the best husband on the entire planet.  At least for me. 

So now, finally, it is 2004.  A year when I will turn 40.  A year when I have absolutely everything to look forward to because I have nothing holding me back and have finished looking backwards.  A year when I can truly decide what it is that I want to be and go for it without any regrets.  If 2003 was the year when I discovered my authenticity, I hope that 2004 will be the year that I grow into it and become even more empowered. 

Dave and I are truly not sure what this year will hold.  We both have high hopes and aspirations for lots of wonderful and amazing things.  If even just one of those things happens this year, I will consider it a year well lived.  And if none of them happen, I suppose that as long as I live each day with gratitude and grace and kindness towards all I know and and all I love, it will still be a year well lived. 

Onward to 2004.  2003 may now rest in peace.

Cardses and Confections

With my greatest thanks to Bakerina for both her generosity and her inspiration, I managed to complete all the baking yesterday.  And I must admit that the ginger cookies that I made are perhaps the most delicious things I've ever created.  You can eat just one, but it lingers for so long on your tongue and in your subconscious that you believe you've eaten twelve. 

When I was wrapping everything up to give away to our friends, Dave was nearly dancing with glee that there were actually ginger cookies left over for him.  When I announced that I had 24 left over, he was practically leaping off the couch and reminded me that he could consume 24 cookies in one sitting. 

He could.  But not of these.  They're just too good.  Absolutely delicious.  Again, Jen, the Bakerina, gets the majority of the credit for sharing her recipe and her secrets to the extra goodness. 

I took a batch of the cookies to my other family's home tonight.  We were gathering for a potluck of cards and general holiday fun.  I also brought some peppermint bark and some of the botched toffee brownies.  The peppermint bark was a huge hit, but who can not love organic chocolate with peppermint?  It's pretty hard to find fault with that.

The botched toffee brownies were gobbled right up, but again, those were a hit last year and everyone was so happy to see them make a return appearance. 

But the ginger cookies stopped people from even talking.  Or being able to play their cards.  Or just about anything.  They are just that good.  I don't even care that they're almost as labor intensive as the botched brownies.  I'll be making them again before next Christmas because as I said, Dave has declared them his new favorite. 

All thanks, again, to the Bakerina.  She certainly knows a good ginger cookie when she tastes one.

Stealth Mayo, Part II

The offending mayo is becoming "stealth mayo". It's the newest and greatest parlor game. No longer is this just a jar of Kraft mayo. This jar now has a new label. It's the Stealth Mayo and comes complete with instructions. It will be left in some poor unsuspecting soul's refrigerator sometime during this holiday season as I make my holiday party rounds.

When the Stealth Mayo is discovered (if it's ever discovered) the person will realize that it's not just any old jar of mayonnaise, but one that needs to be passed on to some other unsuspecting poor soul. And documetation of its whereabouts will be sent back to me so we'll always know exactly what refrigerator to avoid.

And so it will be the mayonnaise that never dies. It will travel the world. It will see the insides of refrigerators from here to who knows where. Oh the stories that this mayo will be able to share.

Stealth Mayo. Possibly appearing in your own refrigerator one day soon.

Stealth Mayonnaise

there is mayo in my refrigerator. i'm not sure how long it has been there, but i do think i know how it got there. and i don't believe it's an early present from santa unless santa thinks i've been a very a naughty girl indeed and i can only think of that one time, well, and that other time and then yes, okay, there was that time, too, but really, santa likes to bring you good gifts right? not bad gifts that make you gasp in shock and horror. i'm surprised it took me until today to discover it, but now that i have, i want to throw it away. however, it's practically a full jar and i hate to be wasteful. still it's mayonnaise. ICK! we all know how i feel about mayonnaise.

you who are reading, if this offensive mayo belongs to you and you'd like to come and pick it up, i'd be so ever grateful. you know i'm frightened of mayonnaise. you know i find it completely unnatural. you also know that i won't throw it away without first giving someone the opportunity to claim it and take it off my hands.

i don't judge others for their mayonnaise habits. i just can't bear to have it in my refrigerator talking to my organic vegetables and indian chutneys. what will they think? who knows what dirty things that mayo has been saying to them?

you know, i read somewhere that mayo makes a good hair conditioner. i'm not willing to try that as i can't imagine what the rinse process would feel or taste like, but if any of you would like this jar of mayo for your own lovely tresses, i'll happily send it to you. it's kraft real mayonnaise, by the way. At least it's not fake mayonnaise. that would be even worse.

Gift Wrap Fetish

It's a very rainy Tuesday.  A perfect day for baking.  Baking is exactly what I will be doing today. 

I no longer celebrate Christmas, but somehow still feel obligated to mark this season with sweet treats for my friends and family.  The first year that I met Dave, I agreed to participate in his family's Christmas celebrations even though I no longer celebrated Christmas myself.  Many years of living in California with a country between me and my family on the East Coast had slowly whittled away any need for Christmas celebrations for me.  Plus, living in California had truly returned me to my earth-goddess roots and I learned and realized that the Solstice was my holiday, not Christmas.  I had spent most of my Christmas days in California feeding the homeless and less fortunate.  And in Santa Cruz, that's a lot of people and it takes all day long.

However, Dave's family celebrates Christmas.  And boy do they celebrate.  Dave's family likes to have family gatherings.  However, they have this odd need to have absolutely everyone present for family gatherings.  Which means for some occasions such as birthdays and holidays, we are still celebrating them months after they have actually passed.  One year the tree was still up and we were still trying to have Christmas when it was time to celebrate my birthday.  My birthday is January 21.  It was that year that I said to Dave that while I loved his family, I couldn’t celebrate Christmas with them anymore.  So now we celebrate the Solstice and go to the movies on Christmas day instead. 

I am not a Grinch, however, and do understand that those that we love and hold dearly still celebrate Christmas or Hanukkah.  For this reason, I bake treats.  Lots of sweet yummy treats.  My inner Martha Stewart comes out in full-force and I not only bake lovely cookies and gooey brownies and bourbon balls, but also I go overboard with my packaging.  I love packaging things just right.  It’s true.  I think I have a fetish when it comes to gift-wrapping and presentation.  I could spend hours upon hours upon hours in paper stores.  I think at times it takes me longer to actually package my little sweet some things than it does to bake them. 

So since it’s a rainy Tuesday just before the actual Christmas holiday, I’ll be baking.  And packaging.  Because I do believe that a well-wrapped gift of gooey treats can be a perfect gift to welcome the New Year.