This is officially the most posts I've had in any year. In 2013 I had 248 so this will be a banner year. I have a total of 1,463 posts (with 56 unpublished drafts of dubious quality) over nearly 7 years. Oddly, as I randomly look back at these posts, my food is essentially the same. I just keep making the same sort of stuff, chili, slop, salad; repeat. And I just keep yammering on about it.
Five years ago today I made Florence's broccoli soup. Still a favorite.
Tuesday, November 13, 2018
The last time I made Florence's orange cake, and this happened for the umpteenth time, I ran frantically to the door, opened it and threw that goddam bundt pan off the balcony with such fury I tore my rotator cuff. I have no idea how often this had happened before (plenty, though) or why in the hell I tolerated it for so long...but enough was enough.
OK, I didn't throw it off the balcony but I discarded it and actually now that I think about it I wasn't even living in my condo. I don't have a balcony in my house to toss it off. I think I gave it to Good Will so that some other hapless doofus can have the fun of making a bundt cake with it. It's kind of on the same fun level as those cans of peanuts that have the exploding snake inside only in reverse. Half the cake stays inside the pan.
So anyway it's my nephew's birthday and I needed to make Florence's orange cake, so I got a new one. It only cost $4,359,078.04. But hey, the cake practically leapt out of the pan on its own. In an exploding snake sort of way.
Monday, November 12, 2018
Saturday, November 10, 2018
Friday, November 9, 2018
“We found no clinically relevant data on whether reduced dietary salt intake affected outcomes such as cardiovascular-associated or all-cause mortality, cardiovascular-associated events, hospitalization, or length of hospital stay.”
Read the entire article here.
Read the entire article here.
Thursday, November 8, 2018
One of the (many) problems of coming back from vacation, aside from, well, work, cold weather, the mess that is my garden, and how fat I am is that my day to day eating is so not interesting. The rich panoply of blog fodder has essentially dried up. One minute I'm in palaces in the midst of relics of utmost importance, cruising along on my Bird scooter, eating dry chocolate cake in sumptuous surroundings, or being slapped down in German by a sales clerk and then the next minute I'm sitting in front of the TV in the dark watching reruns of Full House eating an undressed chicken breast with spinach.
It's like going from The Hills are Alive to Farmer in the freaking Dell. I have relatively little to write about.
The cheese stands alone.
Tuesday, November 6, 2018
You're supposed to deep fry them but I baked these instead. 475º. Deep frying in the house is a stench nightmare for days. But I had Carol coming over and, well, needed some wings. This seemed like a viable possibility. And it is. I think they could have been in longer (they were browner than pictured below) but they tasted OK. The skin was not all that crispylicious which is pretty much half the deal with chicken wings. Sauce and meat being the other half. But they worked.
The larger issue was that I neglected to make the bleu cheese sauce it needed. And the bummer of that was that I had a goddam wedge of it in the refrigerator. She didn't complain but I noticed she put chip dip on hers.