Let’s face it. Generic American grocery stores simply can’t do French bread. The utterance of this simple realization led the friend on the phone to tell me to “love it or leave it”. Hey now, I’m not shifting allegiance, just stating a fairly self-obvious fact!
OK, yeah, you can make it. I can make it. But I’m also impatient and have those, you know, OctoMom cravings, so making it doesn’t always work. Wait three hours for my saumon et fromage?! Wait, you say?
All together, now, grab that cigarette* and glass of wine, smear on a thick French accent and say it with me:
Sah-lahd pah-ree-zee-ehn!
Mmm, fancy blog. Back to things that make sense, I was craving a “salade parisienne” earlier today, which proved to be quite the obstacle to focusing on bidding for public interest jobs in the form of cover letter after cover letter after cover letter..
So every time I eat Stouffer’s macaroni and cheese–which happens way more than it should when I’m visiting my parents–I always think of little Macaulay Culkin in Home Alone, and then I go through all the funny parts of that darn movie and just kind of laugh to myself.
Anyway, Macaulay and I are both grown up now, and I don’t know about him, but I’ve moved on. To making Stouffer’s macaroni and cheese from scratch!
Sometimes people say that law school is hard. And takes up a lot of your time.
They’re right.
Dear devoted readers and fans,
I’m back. I know, I know; what I did was wrong. I should never have abandoned you in such a manner, ditching you for intimate nights alone with my copy of the Uniform Commercial Code, trying to decipher, well, any of it. What I did was wrong, but I want to make it up to you.
You see, law school is hard and time-consuming, but that doesn’t mean I love cooking any less. In fact, I think it means I love cooking more. Now, law student-style, I’m equipped with a handy weekly schedule for cooking, recipe-writing, photo-taking, and blogging. Fighting fire with fire.
If you remember, one of the first things I made when I moved into my new house in Texas was a myriad of dips for our housewarming party. It’s a new year, now, yet somehow, the blog entries are the same.. Last night, we decided to have dinner at our place, then moved it to my roommate’s boyfriend’s fantastic house, and so, of course, I went all out with those dips: salsa roja, salsa verde, and my avocado tomatillo.. thing..
Nay, just this side of Austin. The FIIIERRRY QUEEN of Thailand is one of my favorites, tom yum soup. That stuff.. it’s, well.. it’s
spicy. Really spicy. Like, cures everything that ails you spicy. Just got your heart broken? This’ll spice it right back together. OK, so maybe they claim its health benefits for certain little ailments like a generally stopped up nose, but whatever. I learned to make this baby in Paris, when I had all the veggies I so love to talk about.
For the last week, I’ve been eating prepackaged Indian meals at lunch at the law school, then usually conning the Boyfriend into taking me out to eat for dinner. There are two reasons for this:
That’s what I’m made of. Seriously, could I be a better girl? Would it be humanly possible?
OK, so all I did was try and recreate some of the boything’s favorite milk, Promised Land Peaches and Cream. Why not just save yourself all that time and grueling, grueling effort and just buy some, you ask? Well, I’ll tell you why. It’s a summer thing and, like the snocones and warm weather, it drifts away beginning now.
Somehow, the first day of 1L Orientation coordinated with a box of a dozen fancy muffins arriving from the boyfriend’s “evil stepmonster”, as she so wishes to be called (What is it with mothers wanting to be called anything but.. mothers? Sorry, Mom.. I mean, uh.. dining partner..), and I was reminded of the little baby minimuffins my mum used to make when I started kindergarten and whatnot, little applesauce things rolled in cinnamon sugar. She even sent me a box for the first day of freshman year of college, but I’m pretty sure I didn’t see a one, since I made the mistake of letting it be, well, known that I had real, live baked goods.
But now I’m older. And wiser. And a lot more stressed out. So it was only appropriate that I start off my journey into the depths of law with a gourmet pear muffin that had an entire bottle of brandy in it. OK, maybe not, but how would I even know? I scarfed that baby down before we even got to the bus stop.
So, I feel a little redundant saying this, since you’ve all ready my lengthy and slightly verbose (Who would have guessed?) autobiography, but tom kha is what made me like Thai food. Again, you all know I’m not a huge fan of sweet, slimy good, in general, and when I was a wee thing, my parents always ordered something in that vein for me when we went for Thai. I figured it was all greasy and sweet and noodley and in general what I just.. don’t care for. Until..
Until! Until I went my freshman year of college with an old boyfriend and some of his friends into town and they demanded we eat at this Thai place. I was told they served sushi, and that the boyfriend would secretly get me Mexican food later on, so I was down. And then they literally forced me to have a bowl of tom kha. And then..
It was like running up a hill in a peasant dress, throwing daisy petals everywhere, and some Chaka Khan song playing in the background. And to whom was I running? That’s right. Tom kha. And Thai food everywhere, in general.
So, my second post ever was about my favorite salsa. It’s ridiculously simple, and today I’m going to prove it. I made another batch with pictures of each of the steps. So. Ridiculously. Simple.
First, you’re gonna need about this much cilantro, the bit on the left. You can add more if you really like cilantro, or less, if you really don’t like cilantro.
Keep reading →
It is an official ordinance, in case you didn’t know. Now you do. Now no one can say my blog never taught you anything.
I started my Contracts assignment yesterday after promising to make chorizo breakfast tacos the next day, and then I was contractually and legally obligated to follow through, to make the chorizo breakfast tacos. Otherwise, you could sue me for loss in expectancy. Or something.
Hey, it was the first day.
But then again, I never turn down ground sausage or tacos or breakfast tacos or breakfast tacos with ground sausage, especially a ground sausage I ain’t never tried before. I got Mexican chorizo, which is raw, not cured, and kinda just.. went for it. And. Good. Ness. They were so fantastically delicious. Maybe even better than yesterday’s.. But I wouldn’t want to offend myself from yesterday. I love them perfectly equally, just like my parents love my sister and me perfectly equally. Except they love me more. Ha!
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