Omnomnivore, Part 1

Who wouldn't love a hot date?
I would say, "close your eyes and imagine the sexy date I'm describing," but you're reading my blog and eyeparts are pretty necessary for that. So instead, continue reading but pretend that you're closing your eyes and imagining this jive.

Eyes fake-closed? Good. No peeking.
Here goes!

"Jazzy, swanky music plays in the background of a sumptuously appointed restaurant . Behold, your date is already waiting at the table. Smooth, sweet, and appealing. Obviously healthy, Mediterranean, rich. Exotic and slightly -hmm what's the word- spicy. Hot. Tantalizing. All yours. And stuffed full of goat cheese."

Somewhere, a record scratches with a "vrrrrrpt!". No, I'm not starting a segment on match making, or Mediterranean lovers with a fancy for goat cheese. (yet...)

Instead, I'm getting you ready for today's recipe of mouthwatering deliciousness.

I call it The Hot Date!

The Hot Date is a wonderfully flavorful, healthy, downright decadent little number. It's lightening fast, super easy, and positively posh. A date, stuffed with goat cheese, topped with walnut, sprinkled with cinnamon and drizzled with honey, is then baked, and moments later devoured.

Impress your guests, your actual date, and your own tastebuds. Here's how:

To make 10 Hot Dates you'll need:

10 dates, dried and pitted
2-ish tablespoons of goat cheese
handful of walnuts, shelled and chopped
cinnamon
honey or agave nectar if desired

Here's how you do it:

• Assemble your delicious ingredients, as well as a knife, a cutting board, and a baking pan.
• Wash your hands well.
• Preheat your oven to 350.
• Get pumped. Woo!
• Slice a small sliver from the date, the long way.

Like so!

• Do this for every date. This will open the dates up so they can be stuffed.
• Eating the little sliver is practically required by law. So get to it!
• Next, using your clean fingers or your knife, stuff the dates with as much or as little goat cheese as you'd like. I'm a huge fan of goat cheese, so my method pretty much involves trying to bend reality to my will by stuffing an impossible amount of goat cheese into the wee dates.
• Top with walnuts.
  
• Sprinkle with cinnamon.
• Drizzle with honey or agave, if desired. This isn't necessary, as the dates are superbly sweet, but it does add a certain je ne sais quoi.
• Stare at them. You did this. You created such a culinary masterpiece. In about 4 minutes. Yes, you're that awesome.
• Put them into the oven.
  
• Contemplate setting a timer.
• Refuse to set a timer! You are a culinary arteeest. You are a food-crafting god among men. No, you and your creations need no timers. They'll be ready in about 5 minutes. You'll wing it.
  
• Touchdown dance across the kitchen. This is a pretty important part of the whole cooking processes.
• As the glow of well earned self-congratulation fades, consider the gravity of the situation. Here you are, creating a homemade, delicious, healthy snack or breakfast, with real ingredients. There are folks out there who at this very minute are waiting in drive-thru lines for their next meals. Waiting for items that have been plasticized, synthesized, and hydrogenated into a mockery of food. They are not touchdown dancing in their kitchens. Think on this for a minute. Good work, you.
  
• Amble over to the oven, open the door, and peer in to see your Hot Dates. If the goat cheese looks soft and melty, or if you see some sizzling happening, go ahead and pull them out.
  
• If you have patience enough to even bother, plate them up, take a cell phone picture, and send it to everyone you know.
  
• Finally, enjoy!

Wish your date was a Vegan Date? Awesome! Toss some extra walnuts in a food processor with a bit of olive oil and a hint of salt until they're minced or smooth, texture's up to you. Use this mixture in place of the goat cheese. Don't have a food processor? No problem! Just chop the walnuts as finely as you can. Stuff the dates. Then, arrange them side by side on your baking pan, and drizzle a bit of olive oil over the lot, followed by a light sprinkling of salt. Drizzle your Date with agave nectar instead of honey. High fives, all around.

So you've got left over ingredients, and want to try something a bit different? Add a few chopped dates, walnuts, goat cheese, and honey mustard dressing (I use Newman's Own Light Honey Mustard dressing) over a bed of baby spinach or romaine.

Happy nomming, Omnomnivores!

I am the President of the Procrasti Nation.

Hey guys.

I've got a metric eff-ton of awesome recipes that I've been trying out and tasting. I've even remembered to take some blurry and off center photos of some of them! Now, I've got to upload said photos and write out the recipes. Then you can gallivant into your kitchens with gusto and stride out with pride and something homemade and delicious.

But it's nice out. Which means instead of taking time to adequately update my bl- no seriously, guys, there are birds chirping. Oh, right. Like I was saying, instead of updating my blog I've been going out on bike rides and such.

If you're a New Englander, then you probably understand just how desperate things can get around February and March. Suddenly 50 degrees and not-pouring-or-hailing-or-"thundersnow"-ing is just THE.BEST.DAY.EVER.

So, I'm hoping to update for real tonight. After the sun has set. And is no longer beckoning to me with the prospects of an hour outside without frostbite.

Somebody hold me to that.

Omnommables

So, I'm thinking I'm going to put in a weekly test cooking/baking/kitchening segment into my blog. It'll involve how-to pictures, step by step instructions, and a review at the end letting you know if the test recipe was great, atrocious, or somewhere in between.

Since I'm currently not eating meat the recipes will be vegetarian or vegan. Also I'll be attempting to make things that are budget friendly (as I tend to be wiiiicked cheap), kid friendly (as I am outnumbered by the little savages), and easy to prepare.

I've been futzing with some recipes already, so I'll be adding those soon. They include veggie tofu "egg" scramble, kale-tofu-berry-banana-green tea smoothie, and a sweet potato-banana-berry-yogurt drink, vegan homemade instant oatmeal mix, kale chips, savory roasted goat cheese and walnut stuffed dates, and "eggless, nogless eggnog".

I'm always open to new test-kitchen ideas. Come up with a recipe suggestion that I feature and love and I'll name it after you and credit you in my blog of course.

So stay tuned for tasty jive. And ranting. But that's unavoidable.

On Cosmo

I hate Cosmo.
Actual hate.

And I'll tell you why. Largely because it's my blog, and so I get to rant about whatever, so yep.

We ladies have got 3 sexually penetrable orifices. Men have four limbs, 4.5 limbs if we're counting the penis. Granted, there are some gents who range more in the 4.05 range. But let's just pick a good middle ground imaginary but point-conveying number. How about 4.33? Cause "it's not the size that counts", which is exactly what we'll say until a few hours after a messy breakup, in which case -truth's out- we were laughing inwardly the entire time. That moaning sound? That was just from the effort it took to keep said laugh on the inside. BUT I digress.

SO, the maximum combination of limb and orifice? 13. Yep. And the estimated number of years humans have been making the two-backed beast? Wikipedia says 200,000 years. Surely we have come up with every combination and position for said combination by now. Right?

So tell me, Internetz, how is it that every single time I'm in line at the grocery store there's some underfed, scantily clad, mouth breathing woman staring at me from the cover of a Cosmopolitan magazine, promising to share "25 dirty new sex secrets that will drive him wild". Reeeeally? Every month Cosmo concocts some "new" tidbits that we've somehow overlooked for eons?

I made the mistake of Google searching "mouth breathing woman" without Safe Search on.
This was image #6.
I am completely serious.

Initially, I thought "Wow! What genius minds have they devoted to such mundane things? Surely any human capable of discovering that many previously undiscovered secrets about such a well explored topic must be a real analytical mastermind. Or a tantric sex buddha or something. Tantralytical! How is that not a word yet?

However, my suspicion was aroused (pun intended) by the fact that this information was from the same tome of wisdom that boasted that eyeliner was this season's beauty secret. Hey, Cosmo. Maybe secret means something different to you, but ever since the ancient Egyptians, the cat's been out of the bag on that one. (You don't even know how hard I worked to restrain myself from saying "The Bast is out of the bag". Egypt? Cats? Oh sacrilege, you're fun in any pantheon.)

So I decided to scope out some of these relations revelations.

I'll spare you the agony and paraphrase them.

These secrets included gems like:

Lick his penis. He's into that.
Don't be smelly.
Look like you're having fun.
Let him put it in you.
Have boobies.
While having boobies, try bouncing a lot.
Put a finger in his ass while going down on-

WHOA, whoa, whoa. Hang on a second. Cosmo, whatterya tryin' do to me here?

Isn't that the kind of thing we should, ya know, awkwardly talk about at some point after bringing it up in what might be the least expected of segues? I guess I'm a prude for thinking that digital penetration should involve some kind of consent or something. Silly me. But I'm pretty sure if the roles were reversed, and that were attempted without some kind of discourse first, there'd be a squeak followed by the unmistakable sound of my anus never forgiving you ever. And also punching.

Maybe that same issue should have had an article about cleverly concealing fist-shaped forehead bruises. In fact, maybe it did. I wouldn't know. I was too busy stuffing it back onto the rack, disappointed.

Speaking of muumuus

I've come to the conclusion that my husband like fat girls. He denies this. But I, Dear Watson and also Dear Internetz, have evidence.

Astonishingly, I did not arrive at this conclusion by connecting point A to point B and thinking, "Welp, I'm a girl. I'm fat. He likes me. Ergo, he likes fat girls. " No. It was a bit more convoluted than that.

In the past 6-ish years, I've had five kids. (Don't worry, I'm not a Duggar. I was a surrogate.) Yep, 5 kids, and probably about 5,000 chocolate bars, but whatever, I'm blaming the kids. :) As a result of the "kids" I've gained about a squillion pounds. Fortunately, during the brief not-pregnant stints I've managed to lose about half a squillion pounds! Unfortunately, that leaves me with another half-squillion to go.

On the bright side, I've lost about 15lbs over the past 2 months. Yay, not being a whale!*
I've been pretty pumped about it, too.

So Valentine's Day happens. At first I tell my husband "Please, don't buy me chocolate. I've been doing pretty well with the anti-whale plan." But naturally, in a moment of weakness, I call his cell phone while he's on his way home from work to let him know that he could pick up "just a little bit".

In he strolls, victoriously carrying a delicious Lindt chocolate bar.

Oh yea, and an ENTIRE BOX of caramel cashew chocolate turtles.

Yes, the evidence speaks for itself.


*Note: I hold no prejudice against sea life. Except for Angler Fish. No seriously, eff those guys.

At least I didn't say "circus tent"...

So I belated realized that the garment worn by the very obese is called a "muumuu".

Now I'm wondering how many times I've offended someone by typing "moomoo".

Spring, cookie vacuums, and misquoted Yoda

I am looking forward to spring.

Actually I'm WAY PAST looking forward, and have entered the territory of ecstatically, eagerly, impatiently awaiting the spring. Bike rides, farmer's market, this wicked rockin' organic farm stand a few miles from my house, starting school again in May with a hardcore combined class of Organic and Inorganic Chemistry, sunshine, fresh air, open windows!!!

Speaking of open windows, the other day it was about 45 degrees out. Now, when we're coming out of summer and into fall and it gets to be around 60ish degrees, I'm all "Sweet jayzuz, it's freezing!" but coming out of winter and into spring it hits 40 degrees and I'm ready to run ass-naked through my neighborhood throwing rose petals and singing at the top of my lungs. I had the windows open, a knee skirt on, bare feet, and all was right with the world. For a few minutes, anyway... since shortly thereafter it was 15 degrees out and hailing.

Now if only the weather would stop effing around and just decide to limit it ONE season per week, that'd be fabulous. It's been vacillating between 60's and 20's. Oh, New England. Our "mother nature" has multiple personality disorder. 'Course, that whole multiple personality thing really puts the kibosh on my not-actually-happening-but-totally-wish-it-did naked frolicking. That, and the fact that running braless would be awesome for about .6 seconds, and then would result in an extended stay in the ER, and probably a concussion.

Here's a pie chart I made! The percentage of people who will believe that I ended up in the ER
as a result of an "ass naked frolic session" are displayed in bright green. Yea, exactly.

The kidlings are good. Weird. Wacky. Cute. And sometimes fresh. I told Phoenix the other day that she could have a cookie, but that if she was rude to me afterward I'd vacuum the cookie out of her belly. Of course, if such a vacuum actually existed I'd have solved the problem of American obesity, while simultaneously creating the problem of a worldwide cookie shortage. And since the mere thought of a cookie drought is enough to send a stab of panic right through the fiber of my being, I'll refrain from patenting any such device. At any rate, my parenting methods are questionable, but at the very least they keep me amused.

Bae is doing well in school and this weekend we're going to a "Jedi Training" birthday party. His friend from school is turning six and "needs the help of other younglings to further his Jedi training." Yup. I'm excited to go to a 6 year old's birthday party. My social life really needs to be reconsidered. But I'll consider it later, since I'm busy mastering the art of wrapping my hair in Leia buns.

I'd say I was trying. But there is only do or do not. There is no try.