What The Fruit?

I watch the show Chopped on the Food Network. I like to pride myself in how many of the strange and exotic foods that I can actually recognize. If you know me personally at all, you know that the fact that I'm familiar strange or weird things is no shocker.

I actually like to think a lot about the things we eat that are well known despite how strange they are or how odd their preparation processes are. I mean, some putz was moseying down the side of some shallow body of water thousands of years ago and saw what appeared to be a rock. Somehow Mr. Putz was able to wedge something through the center of the rock and pry it open.
::Side Note:: If Mr. Putz didn't ram a hole through his own hand while trying to pry the rock open, he got lucky. If he did impale his palm... Mr. Putz went back and tried again to open up the rock.
::End Side Note::
Mr. Putz pried the rock open and found sitting there before him nestled in its own little compartment...

A loogy.

We have the oyster.
And not only did this guy say to himself, "YUMMY! This looks like it's going to taste so good, I'm not even going to cook it. This is going to happen raw," but Mr. Putz's putz friends said, "HEY! Great idea, Putz! Let's dig in!"
Now, I've come to find a love for oysters when fully cooked, preferably fried... but that doesn't make getting into them in the first place bat crap crazy.

Today Mamma McMillen and I went to the grocery store and I stumbled upon something in the produce department that brought me to a screeching halt.

 

... the hell?--

This damn thing looks like it came from a coral reef on Mars. 

Granted, you never know when you're going to find your next favorite food by tasting something new... However, I think the way this monster is the most beneficial is by acting as an appetite suppressant. 

Speaking of monster, if you recall the movie Monsters Inc. there is a scene when Mike and Sully are walking to work and grab a couple of fruits from a friendly vendor. I have been under the impression until today that the fruit the vendor offered was "monster fruit," completely fictional and fantastical. 

 

I was wrong. 

I don't even know who to dedicate this one to... Mr. Putz?

-k

Apple to the Core

I've noticed that my past few posts have somewhat strayed away from one of the main focal points of the blog; health relation. Not that there hasn't been some semblance of health, note of bodily well-being or in my case diabetic diet friendliness in each post, but they have lacked a conscious effort to glorify the featured food/recipe/restaurant as beneficial to a healthy diet.

Allow me to remedy said situation as we move forward.

This installment of Eat Your Plate focuses on a very obviously healthy food.

The Apple.

 

What can I say about the apple that hasn't already been expressed in so many different forms of expression? Very little. But I'll try to throw my 2¢ in anyway. 

If you're anything like me, you like to eat. In fact simply calling it "eating" hardly does the act of digestion justice. Food is an experience. So who wouldn't want to experience and experience and experience until their belt was too tight?... 

Okay, maybe that doesn't apply to everyone. But I know I'm not alone when I've walked waddled away from a meal or munch fest feeling like I needed to be juiced like Violet Beauregarde way more often than I'd like to admit. 

The apple helps to curb that. Since it's really dense, it takes time and effort to chew, thus making the system slow down and realize that it's getting full. Unlike the Twinky, you can't cram an entire apple comfortably into your mouth... and repeat. Also, with around 20% of your daily value of fiber, your tummy will be happy, happy.

Take it in and let it out. The apple has been shown to really help lung function. It fights off cancer cells, asthma and other diseases. It even showed to have a healthy affect on the lungs and breathing development of children of women who ate apples while they were pregnant.

Apples <3 you back. Because they fight off bad cholesterol, apples are big friends with the cardiovascular system. 

The apple is in your corner. Besides lung cancer, apples help to fight off oral, esophageal, colon, breast, ovarian, prostate and other cancers.

Food for thought: apples are good for your brain. They can help you stay sharp, fight Alzheimer's and improve your general memory. Remember that. 

An apple a day may not keep the doctor entirely away, but it sure can make your visits a lot more pleasant for the both of you. 

Other than being good for you, the apple is just plain yummy. If you disagree, there's a good chance that you either haven't found your brand OR you haven't had it prepared in one of the many glorious ways to enjoy an apple. 

Here's a list of apples and their diverse qualities.  

Chances are, you'll recognize the Red Delicious apples from the complimentary fruit basket provided by the front desk of the lobby from your last hotel visit. If these are the only apples you've ever tried, there's no surprise that you weren't impressed. 

A good gateway apple is the green Granny Smith. It's guaranteed to provide a firm crunch and juicy tartness. But for my money, I hold out for the Honey Crisp Apple. It's not available year round, but it's totally worth waiting for, especially if you like to cook with apples. 

What you won't find on the list is my second favorite, the Jazz apple, which can be found in most grocers (at least in Tejas) year round. It's pretty comparable to the Honey Crisp, since it comes from a cross pollination of it.

As far as I'm concerned, the best way to enjoy an apple is chilled and sliced, but you can never go wrong with one of two go-withs. 

The next time you're at the grocery store, ask the produce department for fruit chili. It's a sprinkle-on condiment that adds a real kick to really any fruit, but it goes really well with apples and pears.

If you're in the mood for more of a dessert flavor, I have never enjoyed the enhancement of a snack more than when I tried an apple dipped in Biscoff spread. Developed from the ginger cookies, this stuff spreads and stores just like peanut butter, but is so much more. Like the chili powder, it goes well on plenty of other fruits (and breads, and pretzels and in baking and...) but Biscoff is easily one of the apple's best friend. 

Yes, even the complimentary hotel lobby apple. 

This post is dedicated to Sara Proffitt, who is very good about her apple-a-day.

-k

Ribs That Stick to Your Ribs

So I've mentioned Pappa McMillen's Oven Ribs in a previous post, but really the detail (or lack thereof) I provided for said post did the dish little to no justice. Upon Pop's return home to H-Town this summer, of course one of the things I'd been looking forward to was the meals I'd been doing painfully without while New Orleans was hogging all the glory (as if New Orleans needs anymore cooks in their kitchen).

Well, my memory of Oven Ribs is and will always be a fond one. How could they possibly be improved upon? They couldn't. So don't try.
Imagine mine and my sister's surprise when good ol' Pop was in town for his final job interview and offered was forced to bust out the Oven Ribs. The new and improved Oven Ribs.

HOLD UP. HOLD UP. WHY WE BE MESSIN' WITH THE FORMULA?!

He described the old recipe as crap compared to his new one. Now the improvement didn't really come in the form of ingredient alteration, but with the method of cooking. It's an age old rule of thumb for many bar-b-quers and these ribs are no exception to that rule.
Low and Slow.

It takes the event that is Oven Ribs and makes the process even more ceremonious. They get swaddled in a tin foil blanket and land in the oven for a six to seven hour nap. After their time in the oven, the ribs finish off on the grill for about an hour with a brush from some sweet, tangy sauce. I know as a Texan the very idea of cooking ribs with any kind of sauce is sacrilege, and the fact that these are pork ribs doesn't really help my case... but sometimes you just have to throw tradition out the window. Believe me... it's worth the time in Hell.

I was skeptical about change. But this day I learned that change... change is good. I went to pick up an un-carved rib by the bone and that's all I picked up; the bone. The meat stayed attached to the rest of the rack.

Needless to say, it was my step-sister's birthday, but all of us got to enjoy the gift.

This one goes out to you, Lauren. Happy Birthday!

-k

Cab-bitchin'

This weekend, Mamma McMillen and I found ourselves with a surplus of cabbage in our fridge. And at 50¢ a pop, who can blame us? One of my all time favorite recipes for cabbage is the one from the Luby's cookbook. It brings together some great flavors and plenty of leftovers, which is always a plus. Knowing how much I make this dish, Mamma snipped an article from this year's March edition of Better Homes and Gardens Magazine that suggested taking the leftover cabbage you have from St. Patrick's day and turning it into a lasagna casserole. The cabbage would replace the noodles. Well, in seeing what went into the casserole, I decided, "Why wait for leftovers?!"

Making a lasagna is semi time consuming. Which is understandable when most traditional Italian meals took all day for the woman of the house to create. Turns out they had little else to do...  I came to find, though, that it's actually pretty simple. There are quite a few ways to approach it and this time we decided to make it a combination of a few things.

When I was still attending the Art Institute of Houston, I took the advice from several professors and made friends with as many of the culinary students as I could. Among other things, I learned that a fresh red sauce (with or without meat) is not as hard as people make it out to be. Yes, the stuff in a jar is way easier, but give homemade a chance. This time there was enough room in this town for both.

We used both green and purple cabbage, which I think made a really pretty color contrast (no, Mamma. It didn't look like a bruise). Some of the cabbage-noodles were big leaves, some were in chopped chunks as the recipe suggested.

::Word to the Wise:: for anything acting as the noodles of a casserole, be it actual noodles or a substitute, make sure they have drained thoroughly, rested and dried before layering them into the pan. We didn't take the time to care for this step and it made for a pretty wet lasagna. That's not to say it wasn't absolutely delicious. It was just... y'know... wet.

As for the cheese, we figured we'd go all out with the traditional lasagna idea and made a ricotta mix with egg and nutmeg (the nutmeg makes a world of flavor difference),  but because the whole casserole came out at wet as it did, the ricotta didn't really stay creamy like it should have. Next time, we'll try leaving it out and upping our mozzarella percentage. Way up. 

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Let's face it; Houston, Texas has 2 basic seasons. Hot and Hotter. Yeah, we're allotted a couple of days out of the year that require a couple of extra pieces of clothing to keep the draft out, but one time I saw Satan sitting at a Houston bus stop sweating, waiting for the next ride out of town. So with our warm climate, seeing salad on the menu is pretty typical. With our southern cuisine grub, that salad is often times coleslaw.

Like I've said, re-purposing food has become a huge interest of mine. That's why instead of the usual dressing to my slaw, I chose to go Asian. You'd be amazed at how easy it is to create an Asian flavor profile, which could easily be used for either a hot or cold meal.

Once more, the recipe Mamma provided included using a package of chicken flavored Ramen.

Honestly, who do you know who does not have at least one package of Ramen in their pantry? 

Report them. They're not human. Only humans would be at least mildly prepared for the Apocalypse with a small stash of Ramen.

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Asian 'Slaw

• 1 head of cabbage or 1 bag of coleslaw mix
• 1 grated carrot
• 1 package of Ramen (pulverized in the bag first)
• 4-5 stalks chopped scallions
  

• Optional:
  
• Toasted seeds (pumpkin, sunflower, etc)
• Sliced almonds
  

Dressing 

• 3/4 C olive oil
• 1/4 C sugar
  
• 3 Tbsp soy sauce
• 2 Tbsp vinegar
• Season packet from the Ramen package
• Black pepper

Combine it all and serve. Know that over time the crunchy things will be broken down, so if you want the crunch eat it right away.

This entry is dedicated to Jenny Jacobi, who lives life gluten free and who understands the delicate nature of diet restrictions, options and alternatives.

Check out her blog.



-k

but it's a good fat

To anyone who follows EYP - sorry for the hiatus. Moving on...

This summer I've really come to embrace a food that Mamma McMillen has been raving about for years. A fruit that even she hadn't tasted until she moved to Tejas in the '70s. A berry whose color was way out of sight on major kitchen appliances across the country. The wonder food that is no stranger to tables in warm climates, which packs an overwhelming but underrated amount of versatility.

What is this unctuous, green-fleshed creature?
It's the one, the only - Avocado.

Now, I know that it seems like the biggest role the avocado can play in our culinary world is to be unceremoniously (and often times brutally) chopped, beaten then mushed into a bowl with some tomato, onion, cilantro and lime -- but who are we to put such limitations on a food with such potential? Though, I half to admit, my favorite way to eat an avocado is simply with a spoon... and don't get me wrong; I dig on some guacamole just as much as the next Texas native.

I highly recommend stopping into your closest Escalante's and dishing up some of their fabulous table side hand-mixed quac.

But there's so much more to the avocado that we take for granted. No, it's not a low fat snack, but as the title of this entry suggests, the fat that it does contain is actually very good for the body (and as far as I'm concerned, the soul). The fat within the avocado is a mono saturated fat, which taken in moderation is perfect for making other non-fat foods last longer in the system throughout the day. Hence, he who eats a little fat with his meal feels satisfied longer. 

A feeling that becomes somewhat precious when you're at work and you've accomplished all of your morning tasks, gone through a pot of coffee and the clock mocks you by displaying that it's only 10:45... and there sits the office fridge... ready and waiting to spill its contents and sabotage diets all over the office... 

I digress--

Avocados pack an amazing amount of vitamins like potassium. Not a big fan of bananas? (As sick as one might be for that fact alone...) Avocados actually have more potassium in a serving than the banana. I, like many, tend to question why we need so many vitamins and what they're good for in terms of their affects on the functionality of the body.
Ever been wrenched from an otherwise comfortable slumber by the arresting pains of a charlie horse? Eat more potassium. Along with potassium, we find vitamins B, E and K.

Vitamin B - boosts the immune system metabolism and cell growth, promotes healthy skin and hair

Vitamin E - promotes healthy skin hair and nails, serves as a mild anti-inflammatory

Vitamin K -promotes proper blood clotting and bone growth, fights against cancer cell growth

Studies have even shown that a diet rich in avocado displays decreases in bad cholesterol and increases in good cholesterol in the blood.

Where I've become most interested in the benefits of the magic fruit is in the beauty department. After a considerable amount of consumption of avocado this summer (hey, I had to research my subject, ok?) there were a few things that I took note of.
First of all was something that Mamma has been trying to explain for years; healthful food does not mean diet food. Think all vegetarians are skinny? Think again. Diet foods are considered as such because they are lean, low cal, low fat, low sugar, et cetera. When we choose to consume fat through a vegetable, fruit or legume, while yes, these simpler choices are much better for the body than a burger or fried cheese, there is still fat content nonetheless. So when I went 'cado crazy, my waistline paid the price.
Apart from this, though my skin sent me thank you letters (they were really tiny and porely written. Yuk yuk yuk!). As far as skin goes, my struggle has always been is with dryness. The avocado, with its richness in skin-friendly vitamins and minerals, created a glow from the inside out. I even got interested in the skin benefits enough that I looked up a few 'cado masks. They turned out to be really simple and kind of fun. The recipes varied from half of the flesh of an avocado to about a squirt of honey, to concoctions that sounded like full on salads. What was really interesting, too, was that even with a hefty oil content within the 'cado, there are some masks that treat oily or easily blemished skin. If you go searching for your own home remedy, remember that the stuff you find in the regular grocery market is truly meant for eating. Your best bet in finding these materials is to look for an organic and/or botanical grocer or pharmacy. Mamma even says to put your trust in the already processed facial products that contain the same remedial elements... "It's just more sanitary that way..."

While wearing your food is always fun, eating it is so much better. As with any food found on several different continents, we find that everyone has their own little twist on enjoying this little monster. In Asia, the "Butter Fruit" is eaten much the same way we eat cereal; diced with sugar and milk. It's also popular in milkshakes and smoothie drinks. Down Under, you'll find that instead of butter, toast is smeared with a smashed green coat. Of course in the warmer part of the U. S. of A., Mexico and the rest of South America, the "Alligator Pear"-turned-guac is a big deal on almost any Latin dish. Any meal can be transformed into a "California Style" recipe simply by adding avocado slices and alfalfa sprouts.

When shopping for avocados:  Know that they are shipped in varying degrees of ripeness, so if they're rock hard, they'll be ready by the end of the week. You can help the ripening process by keeping them together in a paper bag, but check them often. If you're looking for more of an instant gratification, look for avocados whose skin has a little bit of give to the touch. Bruises are common, so you want even tenderness all over. A cool tip I recently learned was that if you pick the nub of its stem from the head, the inside of the pit left behind should be bright green.

I think the coolest recipe I've found in my studies is the Beer Batter Fried Avocado Wedges. Sure, it's taking a fat and frying it, but hey, it's a good fat.

-k

This entry is dedicated to Leigh Ahern, whom I have not seen in quite some time, but whom I will always remember for expressing the need for 'cados to make guac at an SMG grill-out pool party many summers ago.

georgia's on my mind

As much as I'd like to have a lot of pride in my home town, I often times find it difficult, due to an extreme lull in culture throughout Houston and the surrounding areas. Our Farmers Markets are closed by noon, antiquing means draining your bank account to buy an armoire (or similar) simply because it's had the crap fashionably beaten out of it and outside of Montrose or the Heights, decent cafes are few and far between. Sometimes, though a ray of hope for dear H-town comes in the form of places like Georgia's Market.

Once christened Sandy's before being bought out, Georgia's is an organically based grocer and salad bar/buffet style cafe. They follow suit of farm to market with bushels of fresh produce, farm grown eggs and dairy and bulk nuts, spices, tea and coffee. You'll also find a hefty botanical section full of vitamins lotions and home remedy items. Since switching owners, they've grown the dry goods department somewhat as well, but everything has staid pretty much all organic.

While the shopping is fun, and always fresh (and probably safer than the produce you'll find throughout the city) for my money, the best part of the whole experience is the breakfast and lunch buffet. I like to show up on Sunday, where the church crowd does like to party, but not so much that you can't find a decent table (which are all antique dining room sets. Some of them are even for sale). Sundays also bring a very small jazz band that will play old standards (elevator music style). My last trip out there, I even saw an old couple dancing for a couple of numbers. Very sweet.

The salad bar and buffet cover pretty much every base. The salad provides choices that I've never seen at just any ol' salad bar; things like tabouli, hummus and gazpacho. Of course there are your standard recognizable foods like lettuce, sprouts, killer diller fresh fruits and 3 different kinds of tuna salad.

Right across the way are the hot entrees and sides. Start where you like, there's plenty to pick from. If you come early enough for breakfast/brunch you can catch the omelet flippers serving up healthy and very tasty veggie-filled eggs and egg whites. Next to that station is the carving board, which typically yields a baked chicken or ham. Round the corner and dome steam trays hold all sorts of different health foods that changes daily. The next corner brings you to the soup and breads station that is pretty much self explanatory. Soup. Bread.

The desserts seem to move around a lot. Last time they were landed square in the middle of the room. These, I'm actually glad to say are never changed out. Chocolate cake and Carrot cake. Both of which are rich enough satisfy even my sweet tooth in as little as a half a slice of each (honestly, that's really saying something...)

There are different choices of drinks to wash it all down- milk, water, O.J. and some great organic coffee. The experience isn't complete, though without sipping down a cup of loose leaf tea, complete with a slice of lemon and mint leaf. You'll see a couple of servers pushing tea carts up and down the aisles of tables for all who come to dine.

Look for Georgia's Market at 12171 Katy Freeway Houston, TX 77079-1501. No need to make reservations, but if you have any questions, give 'em a call: (281) 940-0990.

 

This post is dedicated to Mama McMillen - Thanks for introducing me to a portal into the fads of your time.

-k

which came first?...

Today, in celebration of Easter, I will touch on a food that comes in a small package but packs a lot of powerful benefits. The Egg.

 The egg is one of the most diverse ingredients on the grocery list today. It provides a great protein, it can be served with any course at any meal and it can be mixed with pretty much any flavor profile.

This little guy has caught a lot of flack for being a bad additive to an otherwise healthy diet. A study done by the Physicians' Health Study I once tried to prove a link between the consumption of eggs and type 2 Diabetes. A later study proved that there was no link between them at all. As a matter of fact, cleanly prepared eggs are great for both types of Diabetics since they do have so much protein, which really helps insulin to do its thang.
Other studies have tried to prove that the yolk of the egg, the fattiest part, lead to heart risk with an increase of cholesterol. But the Greeks had it right when they lived by the rule of moderation. An egg a day isn't even enough to clog the arteries.  
Mama says: A diet that includes a small amount of cholesterol is actually very good for you. And she's right! Cholesterol can be dangerous in large doses, but it promotes brain functionality, provides fat to make other foods last longer in the system and gives substance to your diet.

I just don't like the taste of yolks, so I stick to the whites and get my fats from elsewhere.

Of course, when I speak of eggs, I'm talking mainly about chicken eggs. But there are a number of other types of embryos that are considered not only edible, but a delicacy all over the globe. I've actually tried the egg of quail (something about me and quails...). And hope to one day try other fowl such as goose, duck, pheasant,  emu or even ostrich, which provide people from coast to coast and across the pond with gourmet omelets. And if your pocketbook allows, you might even find yourself dining on the salty gel beads that is caviar. I'm not so sure if or when I'll ever be moved to try fish eggs.
For now, I'll stick to egg tacos.  
Chicken egg tacos.

I don't know many people who don't enjoy eggs in some form or fashion, but chances are if you don't like eggs, you haven't had them in all of the many ways they can be prepared. Besides being important ingredients in baking and as washes or batters, the great thing about eggs is that they can be the star of their own show...

Baked (Shirred) Eggs
 - In France, this basic methods of baked eggs is called oeufs en cocotte.

Boiling Eggs
 - A good tip to avoiding the Green Ring of Death (which really doesn't effect the taste of or harm the egg... it's just ugly) is to make sure not to over cook the eggs, and shock it in a cold water bath after boiling. Sometimes you can't avoid the green ring because it also has to do with the iron and sulfur content.

Coddled Eggs
 - Coddled eggs are made by very briefly immersing an egg in the shell in boiling water (to cook in water just below the boiling point) to slightly cook or coddle them.

Deviled Eggs
 - Deviled eggs have their roots in ancient Roman recipes with the first published recipes for stuffed, boiled eggs were from medieval Europe. In the 17th century, this was a common way to prepare eggs. they were not called "deviled" until the 18th Century, in England.

Fried Eggs - A French technique that very slowly cooks the eggs in butter.

Poached Eggs
 - The best eggs for poaching are the freshest eggs you can find. If eggs are more than a week old, the whites thin out. Whites of fresh eggs will gather compactly around the yolk, making a rounder, neater shape. A tip to keep the egg from freaking out in the pot is to add vinegar.

Scrambled Eggs/Omelets - Scrambled eggs make a delicious and quick meal, but there is a little science to getting them just right. The secret to successfully scrambling eggs is slow cooking (you need low, gentle heat).

These are pretty standard breakfast recipes; the most common of them all. I found not only these, but a bad ass list of different and very interesting recipes featuring the mighty egg at whatscookingamerica.net. They took eggs to a level that I knew was possible, but had never really taken a second look at. Poke around the site's recipes. there were way too many good ones to list them all here.

This entry is dedicated The Mud Egg - even though you get a lot of attention every year, you will always be the ugliest egg.

-k

et toi deux

Welcome back, Viewers.
Last time on Eat Your Plate, our hero(s) embarked on a culinary mission in the grand city of New Orleans. Today we pick up where we left off - Jacques-Imo's.

Now, when Dad was describing Jacques-Imo's to Kyle and me, I was sitting there thinking '...man, it's a shame we won't be going there while we're here... this place sounds really cool...' Then it turned out that this was the place he'd intended on taking us all along. He told us about the course procedure while we were at breakfast at Huevos New Orleans; and even as I was chowing down, I was drooling over this restaurant.

If you don't get to Jacques-Imo's before about 5:30 for dinner, you're going to be on the waiting list for at least an hour. Luckily, though, there's a bar called the Maple Leaf right next door where you can chill and sometimes catch a little bit of a show before your meal. The two establishments have absolutely nothing to do with one another, but if you know that you're going to be waiting, you can let the hostess know that you'll be next door and when it's time for you to be seated they actually send someone over to fetch you. It's a nice little "if you scratch my back, I'll scratch yours" hand-off.

You can instantly start to recognize the hip atmosphere of the joint, not only for the number of people spilling out of the front door and onto the sidewalk, but by the very first table the restaurant has to offer. The most romantic seat... erm... out of the house. It's a little 2 person table that sits in the flatbed of a beat-down, decorated pick-up truck right in front of the entrance.

The very experience of getting seated is pretty awesome. Obviously, the place was probably once a house - my guess is that it was a duplex shotgun style number. Needless to say, there isn't much elbow room, but it's all a part of the experience. The ceiling in the entry way and bar area is comprised entirely of framed artwork, pieced together like a giant Tetris game. If you're not the lucky party to dine in the truck, then you're lead through the kitchen to your table in the back of the building. Watch your step going through there, because that juggling act doesn't stop for anything.

We were smart to get there early; it was a rare occasion of walking in and being immediately seated. We sat down and the first thing on our table was water and cornbread muffins. I'm the type that could happily make a meal out of croutons if they were decent enough - these muffins were the bomb.com. Simple, but sweet and did exactly what an appetizer should: make you want more.

Before coming, Dad and Ginna talked about a dish that to Kyle and me sounded awful.
Shrimp and Alligator Sausage Cheesecake.
I don't blame you at all for passing negative judgment.
Yes, this dish sounds like it would be absolutely putrid, however when you think of it as an appetizer and not as a dessert it's a little bit easier to swallow. It's not sweet like you might think it would be. It's almost more like a flan or a souffle. And the gator tasted like the proverbial chicken.
We ordered the soft shell crab appetizer, but they were out so they brought us stuffed shrimp on the house. It more than made up for the lack of crab.
And to complete the trio of appetizers, a plate of hard fried cheese grits were served. If you ever thought you liked grits before, good lord, you ain't tasted nothing yet. The outside was crispy, almost like tempura, while the inside stayed velvety and creamy. Kyle, who doesn't even really like grits, went back for a second bite (and maybe a third... but who's counting?).

Dammit, this was all before we even ordered our entrees.

I opened my menu and was tempted to order one of everything; even the things I couldn't pronounce. Dad and Ginna split the Scallops (my first choice), Kyle decided on the Pan Fried Drum Fish with Shrimp (my second choice) and after much debate with myself, I chose the Stuffed Quail and Mushrooms.

When we put in our orders, Dad asked me again what I picked...
"...stuffed with what?-"
"I dunno. I don't really care. I'm sure it'll be good."
Kyle remembered what it was stuffed with, "... foie gras..." (fwah grah)
Dad looked at me as he's done many times before with an "are you serious" expression...
"Liver...?"
I still didn't care. I like trying new things, and this would certainly be a first.

Each entree at Jacques-Imo's comes with a very small but very delicious spinach salad with a vinaigrette dressing and a single fried oyster right on top. The whole salad is great, but the star that could easily sing solo is that little oyster.
It took a while for our food to come out, partly because my quail took more time to cook, but we're pretty convinced that other things must have happened in the kitchen that made our order come out so late. Even still, the food was incredible. The foie gras didn't bother me in the least. As a matter of fact, in tasting all of the dishes that came to the table, I'd say that the quail was my favorite. Lucky me.

Typically, as an act to politely turn a table so that the next party could be seated, Jacques-Imo's will perform something called a "lagninappe" (lan-yap - "something extra"). A lagninappe is when your meal is over, and you've not yet receieved the check (or maybe sometimes you have) and the waiter brings you 1 or 2 desserts without asking. It's all complimentary and it's all top notch. This, like I said speeds up your leaving process. Fine by me. Unfortunately, though, this time, we weren't bombarded with desserts, but it was all the better, considering we were pretty full.

Well, it was Sunday. This is always the hardest day for me because it's the Day of Good-Byes. But by hook or by crook, I was going to have some decent craw fish before going back to Houston. Dad had a little place in mind not too far from the house where it's said to be the best in the neighborhood. As far as I'm concerned, every little place in or around New Orleans is the "best in the neighborhood" for some reason or another and you're always lucky if you can even get in.
We did have to wait for a while to get a seat, but we preoccupied ourselves by putting up bets if I could finish off 30lbs of craw fish by myself.
No one had any faith.
I'm still thoroughly convinced that I could do it.
We beat the Church Crowd by about 30 minutes, which is lucky, because they sure did pile in after us. Including the backrooms and kitchen, Fisherman's Cove might be about as big as the 3 bedroom apartment I live in right now. But that didn't stop them from providing an excellent send-off meal of mud bugs. I was happy (and about as messy) as a pig in slop with spice juices running down each arm as I ebbed away at the 10lb pile (and my very own head of garlic) on the table. And it couldn't have been washed down with a better drink than a cold bottle of Barq's Root Beer.

I didn't want to leave for many reasons. I don't think I'll ever really get enough of New Orleans if I'm to experience it 1 weekend at a time. Mostly I love the culture that comes with its cuisine. You just can't find it anywhere else.

I'm already making plans to go back ASAP.

The latter half of this entry is dedicated to Ginna - thanks for the making it great.


-k

et toi

My financial priorities are somewhat different from those of my peers once my few bills have been taken care of. I rarely find clothes or shoes that blow my skirt up enough to buy, apps are less than applicable for me since I don't have a smart phone and I'm dehydrated enough of the time without the help of alcohol draining my body as well as my wallet. No, for me, my money is better and more often spent on (you guessed it) food. Or outings centered around food. Outings like... road trips to New Orleans, perhaps?

Thursday of last week my buddy, Kyle, and I set out on a 4 day excursion to the Crescent City. We were heading over for the annual French Quarter Fest, which is just as fun as Mardi Gras, but far less crowded and somewhat less expensive. Our rubber met the road as we salivated over the good music, good times and of course, good food to come. The cherry on top of the whole trip was being able to see good ol' Daddy McMillen, who moved to NoLa (technically Meaitrie, but the two are so close, it counts) a little over a year ago. And we arrived just in time... for Dad's oven ribs.

::Side Note::
Whenever there is an opportunity to have Papa McMillen cook for my sister or myself, chances are there will be one of 3 main staple meals that will be requested; crab cakes, pork chops 'n' apples/pears or oven ribs. I didn't even have make a request before coming over this time - Dad and Ginna already knew.

I loved that I could share such a great meal with Kyle - now that the tragedy of separation has come between the Houston installment of McMillens (thus depriving those of us who stayed behind of a good 50% of our favorite home-cooked meals), letting him in on the homemade goodness was special. The ribs were slightly different from the usual recipe, but still delicious and made a great initiation to the weekend's digestive experience.

Friday we woke up and made our way over to Huevos New Orleans.  Getting into this place was a treat all on its own since on the weekends it's basically impossible to even get inside the door. Healthy and full of flavor, each of us were totally pleased with our respective meals. Dad and Kyle got breakfast sandwiches, I got the country breakfast. The dishes were simple, but made well and satisfied our tummies without filling us to a painful extent.

At that point, it was time to head over to the festival, where music, shopping and cooking were already well underway. We set up our chairs at the Coca Cola stage where a new favorite band, Johnny Sketch and the Dirty Notes would be playing later that afternoon. Once settled, Kyle and I took a walk.
It's nearly impossible to see all of the French Quarter in one afternoon, but dammit, we tried. We moseyed through the French Market, looking at all of the cheap knickknacks and wares. A little further past the market was where the restaurants started; each of them had their usual bands playing the kind of jazz that Kyle and I were both looking forward to hearing.

Come lunch time, Dad treated me to an Ice Cream Pina Colada. It's funny- like I said, I'm not much of a drinker. when the gal was mixing my drink, Dad made mention of "a little alcohol" to make the drink happy.

Less than an hour later, I was napping by our chairs back at the Coca Cola stage...

But not before getting at least a proper lunch in my belly. We were craving po-boys, and boy, did we get what we wanted. Kyle got a BBQ shrimp, while I tried my very first soft shell crab. Being from Tejas, I was expecting Kyle's sandwich to be covered in a thick, brown, sweet sauce, but in New Orleans BBQ more refers to the way food is cooked vs. its flavor (go figure). I washed my food down with my absolute favorite flavor snowcone (or snoball if you're from NoLa) Blue Bubblegum (there will be an EYP entry for snowcones to come very shortly, by the way).
Then I crashed.

When we got home after a great day of festing, Kyle and I agreed that as delicious as our po-boys were, they only held us over until... well, that moment. We were hungry again. Dad recommended picking up a pizza from Gio's, a little hole-in-the-wall place around the corner from the house where they served the traditional pie as well as salads, entrees and (in my opinion) God's gift to meatballs. We got a pie, which was good and all- but the next time I'm in Metairie, I'll definitely be going back for those tennis ball sized meatballs.

Saturday, even after a great French toast breakfast, we piled into the car and Dad asks, "OK, who wants a snoball?" I didn't think, didn't pause, didn't hesitate a moment, "I DO! I DO!" Ginna made the comment that we just ate. My response was, "I don't think you understand here..." We stopped by a 'hood favorite (there were a lot to choose from). Dad got a White Russian flavor and laughed when I asked if it was adult (I was being totally serious... I wouldn't put it past a NoLa eatery to have alcoholic snowballs...) I enjoyed a half banana, half chocolate stuffed (ice cream in the middle) treat. Kyle asked if it was everything I'd hope for.
"... and more."
The afternoon brought us to the Magazine Street area, famous for its shopping. We enjoyed ambling around with not much destination in mind, followed by putting our feet up at Bulldog's Patio. There wasn't much conversation from the crowds gathered around the TV outside since the Masters were on (sorry Dad, but the Amen Corner wasn't exactly the highlight of the afternoon), but that just made the fountain of taps all the more easy to hear, which is considerably more enjoyable while you're nursing an Abita Amber draft.

 

Here's where we all found ourselves between Hell and a hot spot... 

Every time I've come to New Orleans, I've enjoyed a dish that I couldn't possibly hope to find the equal to in H-Town. BBQ oysters. And every time we've gotten them, it's always been in a New Orleans local place called Acme Oyster House. Yet again, to my pleasant surprise, BBQ did not mean that my shellfish would have grill marks and be covered in A1. 

The way these little morsels are prepared is they're halved and the shell is used as their cooking vessel on the grill. They're laden with garlic, butter, salt and other seasonings to turn what starts out as a loogie on a shell into one of the most out-of-this-world yet simple culinary masterpieces. 

Honestly, add garlic and butter to just about anything and how can you go wrong?

Acme does one hell of a stand up job in preparing these little guys, but each time I've been lucky enough to have them, I'm told, "Oh, well you think these are good, they're nothing compared to Drago's oysters..."

Evidently, Drago's was the first to ever throw half an oyster onto a grill and turn it to gold. I could only imagine if Acme does such a great job with their recipe, how much better the original would be. But that's what I kept talking about to Dad.
"Dad. Oysters. Oysters, Dad... Dude, Dad. Oysters."

Also, as anyone who lives anywhere besides Louisiana, Alabama or Mississippi will know, crawfish gets to be really expensive. So that was something I wanted to make sure I got my fix for.

And beside all of that, Dad was really excited about taking us to Jacques Imo's, a 'Nawlin's Style Cafe that serves up a lot 'tude and a lot of flavor.

Where do we go from here? We bantered back and forth all afternoon, and realized that we should have started way earlier in the day. Finally, though we decided to save the oysters for another time (all the more reason to go back). We headed over to Jacques Imo's.

This entry is already ridiculously long...

The rest of this entry will be continued in the following post. 

Make sure you check it out, though, because Jacques Imo's is a killer-diller trip.
Plus I'll share about the crawfish fix.

This half of the post is dedicated to Daddy McMillen - this trip was one of the best so far.

-k

mairzy doats and dozy doats

Call it porridge, call it gruel, call it oatmeal. Whatever you call it, you know you can call it just plain good and good for you. It's hard to find a proper place to start in describing oats and their greatness; the grain has been around since BC, it provides a hefty list of benefits and dammit, they're yummy.


Originally, oats were more of a wild grain that were thrown into a mix of other grains almost by accident simply because they grew within the same patches. They kept the status of the underdog grain for centuries before they were truly harvested for deliberate use. Even then, it was used mainly as stock feed. But the plant slowly made its way into the hearts and bowls of early Europeans and eventually early Americans.

There's even a cool quote from Samuel Johnson's Dictionary that defines oats as, "a grain, which in England is generally given to horses, but in Scotland appears to support the people." The retort to this dis was by a Scotsman who said, "That's why England has such fine horses and Scotland has such fine men."

The Scott was pretty much correct in focusing on the fact that anyone who consumed oats was fine
(I be fine as hell).

I know that in my own experiences, oatmeal is something of a wonder food. I remember when I was in high school, trying to figure out what to eat for breakfast without adding to the luxury of my waistline. Even though I'd been juggling my medicine dosages for a couple of years, I was still struggling with my blood sugar sky-rocketting and my insulin getting spiked with other foods that I thought were healthy.

Without really considering the benefits that oats had to offer, I woke up earlier than usual one morning to find that there wasn't quite enough milk for my usual bowl of cold cereal, and decided to treat myself to hot grains.  By second period, I found myself in the nurse's office due to a severe drop in blood sugar. This happened a couple of times before I realized that I didn't need to take so much insulin for what I was eating, even though I had a heaping scoop of brown sugar mixed in (I tend to have a pretty strong sweet tooth). Oats don't spike your insulin.
Nuh-uh...?
Yeah-huh.
And something even sweeter is with as much fiber as there is in a bowl of oatmeal, you stay fuller longer. Kinda feels like you're rediscovering oatmeal, huh?


Mama Says: Mix oatmeal with your favorite shredded cheese, just like you do with grits.  
(I thought it was weird at first too, but after trying it, I discovered a new favorite. And with cheese instead of fruit and sugar, the fat element keeps the good stuff with you even longer AND is a little more lunch and dinner friendly)

This entry is dedicated to my poor little Canon Rebel XTi - whose last photograph to take was the one below before going to the doctor to get its lens fixed.

-k

"have a cup of tea," indeed!

I'll be honest, the first section I reach for when I see a newspaper lying around is the Funnies section. But when I'm not concentrating on Hocus Focus, I'll keep myself pretty preoccupied with the Flavor section. It provides me with a glimmer of hope for my fellow Houstonians when this tiny section of such a huge periodical adds a hint of very much needed culture via food news. Last Wednesday (3.23.11) an article caught my eye that really perked my interest because it followed the beautiful genius that is simplicity. The concept? - enhancing a dish's entire food profile using only one ingredient.

Sophie Brickman, San Fransisco food writer, gave H-Town the scoop on using, of all things, tea leaves in more ways than a simple steep 'n' drink (my current favorite way to enjoy it). The article suggested uses like brewing in broths, replacing wood chips for smoked meats or even grinding up and adding the leaf to dry rubs as though it were a spice.
Brickman mentions tips for pairing certain teas with certain dishes that have different types of flavors and varying levels of body and fullness. It makes sense- I mean what kind of schmuck would one be if he made the blunder of completely masking the taste of a delicate white leaf tea by adding it to a robust beef broth... right? I mean right?
Basically, like with your favorite cocktail, try to keep like with like. A light chicken or veggie broth would pair with a fair-nature green tea. You would add Earl Gray to a dessert recipe for a bitterness vs. sweetness element.

You can take a peek at some of what was in the Houston Chronicle here. 

Some of the recommended teas that were mentioned in the recipes lead me to researching some names that I'd never heard of, like Lapsang Souchong (an obviously Asian, medium-bold, full-bodied black loose leaf tea). My search took me to a site called theartoftea.com. Anyone who likes tea like I do will appreciate this site. It has a lot of info on all sorts of tea profiles. It will help anyone look like a tea snob... or, y'know just find new tea flavors.

This post is dedicated to Meagan Samuelsen, whom I often think of when my kettle whistles. 

-k

the 1015s are in

Every season comes with the anticipation of certain foods that we don't eat during the rest of the year. My birthday, in October, initiates "pumpkin bread" season until Christmas. On the coldest days of winter, when our burning Texas summers seem almost desirable (almost), I find myself salivating over the very idea of a slice of watermelon. And when early spring rolls around, you can be sure that you'll find our pantry stocked with 1015 (ten fifteen) onions.


These bulbous orbs were developed by the Texas Aggies in early 1900 and were named after the date on which they are sown (October 15), in order to have a harvest in early spring. What's great about these onions is they're cross-pollinated to have such a mild, sweet flavor that you can peel and "eat 'em like an apple."


With the arrival of 1015s and the first of the season's cucumbers (Mama says $.79/lb for a cucumber is simply outrageous. Wait for the spring prices), we can finally make Womack’s House – Marinated Cucumbers, Onions and Tomatoes.


Womack’s House was a specialty restaurant in Fulshear, Texas that served home-style country cooking with attitude. The waitresses wore late 1800s costumes (complete with white linen bonnets and aprons) and served your rolls from metal pails (think Little House). Sounds like a hell of a good time, but the place burned down in the early ‘90s. But good ol’ Mama McMillen and her bad ass, recipe-clippin’ self saved a handful of recipes that were posted in the H-Town Chronicle, June 1991.


The original recipe for the marinade involves oil, vinegar and sugar (which can of course be substituted with sweetener), and other ingredients that add a real Spring Zing to the salad.


Honestly, I’m not one much for raw tomatoes and fresh herbs get pricey, so there’s actually a good handful of things that we leave out of the recipe. And dammit, that’s ok. Who died and made the recipe the boss?

One thing I always keep in mind is that unless you’re baking, which requires a lot of precision, you really have a lot of freedom as far as what you put into or leave out of a recipe.


Like pepper? – throw it in.

Hate olives? – leave them out.

Cutting back on your sugar intake? – don’t use as much.


So here, as the first recipe of the freshly revamped blog, I give you:



Womack’s House – Marinated Cucumbers, Onions and (maybe) Tomatoes


3 medium cucumbers sliced

1 medium onion sliced into rings

3 medium tomatoes, wedged

¼ c sugar

1 c water

½ c vinegar (Mama says: white works best)

2 tsp. salt

¼ tsp. black pepper

¼ c vegetable oil

1 tsp. mint


Combine the dressing mixture (everything but the veggies) in a separate bowl and let everything incorporate and dissolve. Pour the marinade over the chopped veggies and let sit covered in refrigerator for at least 2 hours. Serves about 6. Really, between Mama and myself, we end up eating most of the salad at the first sitting.

Dedicated to Mama, for obvious reasons.

-k

face lift

in changing content, i was inspired to change the formatting as well. comments and suggestions welcome.

a new recipe to come (hopefully this afternoon).

-k

oh, well. whatever. nevermind.

in review of my past few entries i've come to this conclusion:

dreams are much more important to the dreamer than to anyone else.

after coming to this conclusion with the affirmation of outside opinions, i've decided to turn towards blogging about another passion.

food.
the twist? - it will be semi-based on meals and other food-related topics involving diabetes. that's not to say that you lucky people out there with normally functioning pancreases and naturally regulated blood glucose (fun medical word for sugar) levels should drop the newly formatted blog.

i intend, like with everything i write, to add an element of voice and creativity to all entries. god knows anyone who has ever had to read and/or write informational pieces about anything (especially anything medical related) knows that it's boring as all hell.

still, it's nice to stumble upon evidence that you're not alone in the world. whether reading this associates you because, like me, you're plagued with the pain in the ass that is insulin dependency, you love any and all things food (even if it is somewhat health conscientious...) or hell- you're just bored and want something to waste time reading... consider yourself incorporated.

i will, however, be continuing with dedications, photos and frequency.

so i dedicate this entry to kyle style - who helped me to make up my mind with the affirmation of his outside opinion.

bon apetit.

oh, were you sleeping?

my mom and i will be moving in may.

and i took a nap this afternoon.

this entry is dedicated to my mom. don't worry, ma- the new apartment will work out great.

as i drifted into this dream, the scene around me made no significant change from reality. i laid there on my bed as the sun found its way through the blinds, making warm patches of bright light on the opaque white of my down blanket. i dosed and dazed, but was abruptly interrupted when i heard the clamor of clumsy entry through the front door. two uneducated-sounding male voices bantered back and forth as they seemed to be making their way towards my room, where i was... erm... less than decently dressed.
"she said they were in here, right?"
"yeah, this way"
"and there are four mattresses?"
"yeah, four mattresses and box springs. and the big one's in here"
"you got the ladder?"
"yeah"
i pulled the blanket up to my chin as i stared at my bedroom door, and watched as the sweaty, overweight movers stumbled in. they attempted to pull out my box spring from underneath my mattress and were actually successful. i land with my pillow top with a big thump as the height of the box spring is removed from beneath me.
"oh, were you sleeping?" one of the movers asks me as he slams the large frame against pretty much everything in my room, including the sliding mirror doors to my closet. the large clang that came from my closet made something within it catch my eye. sitting on the highest shelf was my old twin size bed set that i slept on as a kid. just as i realized what it was i looked up to find the movers had already gone, leaving me with a destroyed room, and a bed without a box spring.
ha-ccchhhhhhheeew!
i'd recognize that sneeze anywhere. it was jessica, my sister, who sounded like she was in the living room.
i threw on a t-shirt, grabbed the twin bed set (which was lighter than air) and walked out into the den where my mother and sister were sitting on the couch in pajamas of their own.
"didn't you say you needed a bed for catherine" i asked my sister. her daughter turns three tomorrow (literally, tomorrow) and she's been slowly transitioning into a big girl bed from her crib.
"yeah, why?" (clearly, she didn't notice the bed, box spring, headboard and frame tucked underneath my arm)
"well, i pulled these down for you"
"WHY? why does she need those? why? what's up?" my mom was particularly inquisitive...
"um, duh, ma. catherine" my mom began to stand up, and the scene begins to fade.
i'm back in my bed and i'm awake.

all the flowers would have very extra special powers

 when it was time for me to fly the nest and start out (sort of) on my own, i got a job with central market, in the floral department.
for those of you living outside of texas, or even for those of you living inside of texas and haven't had the opportunity to enjoy the experience of central market, just know that it's a grocery store of imported and sometimes organic products. it's possibly one of the coolest places i frequent. and i say this after having not worked there for over 3 years.

in the floral department, i was able to learn an awful lot about not only different types of flowers and vegetation from all over the state, the country and the world, but how to care for them. that and how to create floral designs (which was the funnest part).

i took a nap this afternoon.

it was the night of the big event that had been on the books for months. all of manahattan's elite society would be there. everyone that all of manhattan's elite society was currently doing would be there, too. we being a small but growing catering firm, needed to really be on our game. there would be no room for screw-ups tonight.
i was the newest and youngest employee to the firm, and my job wasn't very specific. i wore many hats, i guess.
hey, take this order.
hey, handle that customer.
hey, interview this chef.
and sometimes i worked directly with the head of the company, who had no face, but i understood that he was a raging asshole with a short fuse.
as i'm doing my rounds through each room, making sure that everything is running smoothly, i bust into the backroom where all of the real chaos is going on. all of the guys are scrambling and yelling out different things; none of which i can really understand, but i'm sure they knew what they meant. "GOD DAMMIT, WHERE IS THE ARRANGEMENT?! I TOLD YOU TO HAVE IT HERE. WHERE IS IT?" the boss wasn't yelling at anyone in particular, but rather the entire crew. none of them seemed to really be absorbing his verbal abuse the way he'd like them to. apparently the floral arrangement(s) that were supposed to be the centerpiece to an entire display in the main hall had disappeared, and the boss was none too pleased.
"GET ANOTHER ONE IN HERE. NOW."
"we've all tried getting florists to help us out. they all know we work for you, none of them will help. they refuse. and they recognize all of us!" another worker was trying to explain how the boss had screwed himself into the ground by being the dick that he is.
"well, i'll go. they don't know me, and i can go to a nearby shop and get a new piece"
"GO. DO IT. THERE'S A SHOP AROUND THE CORNER. HERE'S $50. GO"
$50? really?... dammit, if i'm kicking in for this, they better pay me back...
(even in my dreams-- i'm broke.)
i ask a few passersby where this floral shop is. they pass me one by one, and i ask every one of them where to go. even though each one answers me with the same accurate directions, i still feel the need to ask the next one walking by where to go.
i step inside the shop where a wide enough selection of flowers are displayed in their respective buckets and bouquets. of course, though, i walked into the only manhattahn flower shop where a bunch of old, slow, southern grannies are running the show. even though i'm obviously in a rush, they're moving like molasses in winter.
"i need a big arrangement... or was it two arrangements?... maybe it was just one.... ummmm... shit, just make it two, and i'll have extra if he only wants one..." (better safe than sorry, and i'd find a way to be compensated....)
"ok, sugar what'dja like?"
"i need something big and chic for the event around the block. bold colors. scent doesn't really matter. we need curly willow. MAKE SURE THERE'S CURLY WILLOW!" why i was so hell-bent on having curly willow involved, i'm not really sure. "do you need me to de-thorn roses? i know how. i can help. i was a florist. COME ON, COME ON, LADY. LET'S GO!" i was becoming more and more like my boss, and less and less popular with these grannies. but at this point i didn't care. time was ticking.
the old gals started to work, pulling vases down off the shelves.
"i don't know if we can really help you, hon. i mean, we have a lot of called-in orders that we have to get out..." the most brightly colored granny of the bunch began. (yeah- for some reason the other women, and even the flowers seemed dulled in color. but this woman was in like technicolor.)
"you mean you don't take emergency orders?"
"well, we have one arrangement in the books specifically for this event, so it's probably for your people..." her draw made the sentence feel like it took an eternity to get out of her mouth.
"WHATEVER. IF IT'S OURS LETS JUST GET IT GOING. I'M LATE."
i turned around to see the arrangements the women in the back were making.
"here we gooooo!" one of them said with a sugar-coated voice. i looked in confused horror at the two vases in front of me. each one stood less than a foot off the table. they were solid navy blue ceramic bowl shaped urns jam packed with pink carnations.
and curly willow.
"what the hell is this?" i asked, not really wanting to know the response.
the colorful one chuckled, took the $50 out of my pocket and said, "whatever. it's yours. take it. you're late."

dedicated to mayra, who kept me sane on the rough days and was just plain great to have on all the other days.


-k

true dreams

i've decided to do a couple of things here.

• actually keep up with this damn blog... somewhat
• dedicate entries to those who've touched my life, that closely relate to the topic of said entry
• add photographs as often as possible
• base this blog on a dream diary, as my dreams serve as a dependable source of strange, whimsical and often entertaining stories, as well as a solid reason to abstain from doing most (if not all) illicit drugs.
• other entries will include, but are not limited to food diaries (but hey, food... sleep... who wouldn't want to read about these important topics?...)

and so - let's begin...

i dedicate this entry to rho, who updates her own blog with inspirational regularity and... well... dedication. 

i was late for school. i didn't even know why i was late for school, since i don't have morning classes. still i found myself wandering around in my car in the rich neighborhood near my old apartment. i got the wild hair up my ass that my wandering had gone on long enough, and now it was really time to get to campus.
i hit the gas and make a deliberate effort to reach 65/mph as quickly as possible. oddly, cars around me are dodging safely out of my way to let me pass them without having to honk, slam on my breaks or jump in and out of lanes. my happy cruising gets interrupted by the random and very sudden presence of po-po - riding my ass like a horse without a saddle. great, here come the flashing lights and siren.

hmm-- no lights yet. 
and he's still riding me... but i'm late. i'm not friggin' slowing down...
still, no lights... still on my tail. 
all right, my luck isn't going to last much longer; i'm going to pull into that gas station and pretend that i really have to pee- that way if the cop tries to pull in and write me a ticket, i have an excuse. yeah. that's all i need. a really good excuse, and i'll be home free.
good.

so i pull in. before i even have a hand on the car door, 5-O has already screeched up next to me, close enough to my car that getting out will be complicated to say the least. i open my door, and the cop (of an abnormally massive size) completely decked out in his motorcycle gear (even though he was driving a patrol car) is waiting for me with his arms folded across his chest.
"is there any reason you were driving so fast in a residential area?"
i wedge my way out of my seat.
there i stood, wearing one of my favorite outfits, which included a shorter-than-catholic-school-uniform-length skirt. and instead of explaining myself honestly, and pleading with him to let me go without penalty, i gather my skirt between my legs, gave it a little hike, bent my knees and said,
"do you have any idea how much harder it is to hold it when you're wearing such a little skirt?!"
my voice was not my own, but a higher pitched one; not very different from betty boop. and i had an uncanny capability to bat my eyes rapidly.
in fact, the longer i stood there with my lashes fluttering fast enough to provide the cop decent air conditioning, his face (and overall size) seemed to melt-- and he actually let me run inside and pee.

my view within the dream made an immediate switch without transition (as my dreams often tend to do), and i found myself walking towards the cop once again; this time after having filled my tank at a pump. go figure: even in a dream i'm still running errands.
the cop has a smirk on his face and a yellow ticket in his hand with something written on it. i'm thinking man, even after all that, this fucker is still going to give me a goddamn ticket...
the cop hands me the slip of paper with a phone number written on it and says,

"slow down and call me, cutie."