Peter Rabbit

Gllen doesn't believe me when I tell him that I absolutely ABHOR celery. It's a vegetable that everyone says, "But it doesn't taste like anything!" when it really DOES taste like something, and that something is not anything I want in my mouth, or flavoring my foods, or adding stupid 'crunch' when an alternative would be much better. Celery destroys everything it touches. That is my opinion. I am not going to change it. Eat your damn celery, more for you - less for me.

Gllen thinks that somehow, I'll taste it one day and be changed. He tried to change my mind just the other day as we were driving to BeWiched. He told me that I just needed to change my mind set. "Imagine you are a rabbit," he advised. "Just a happy rabbit chewing on some delicious celery."

I wrinkled my nose, which was as rabbit-like as I was going to get. "That would never work."

Gllen tried to weave the story further, "And you're a naughty rabbit. You're in the neighbor's garden, eating their celery."

"WHAT?!?!" I shrieked. "I'm a naughty rabbit? What the..." I just started to laugh, barely able to steer the car through the next intersection. "How does being a naughty rabbit make celery taste good?"

Gllen chuckled too. "I don't know. Because it's forbidden."

I feel like, after 6 years, I just learned something new... and I'm not sure how to feel about it.

LOL

This little gmail chat had me busting a gut for at least five minutes.

gllen: TACO TUESDAY
Sent at 5:22 PM on Tuesday
gllen: I WANTS MEHICAN

Playing with Fire

Today, Gllen decided to make his famous spicy hot wings. When he does this, I usually have to prepare for a lot of open windows and aeration in the apartment. He chops up habeneros and sautes them until the entire house is lethal with pepper gasses.

As he was preparing his sauce, he started to cough and sneeze more than usual. Super spicy habeneros. He was literally doubling over and expactorating on the floor. I yelled at him to cover his mouth.

He worked for four and a half hours grilling up 240 wings. Go big or go home. At some point, I fell asleep on the couch. I woke up to gasps, and grunts. Blearily, I focused my eyes on the living room, my gaze finally resting on a plate on the coffee table, filled with bones of chewed up wings. Gllen was bent over another plate full of spicy wings, hacking his way through each fiery bite.

I have never heard so many guttural noises coming from my boyfriend in one day. He polished off at least two dozen wings. Later, we went to go look at a house, and on our way back, I asked him if he would like a treat. He replied, "I don't think I need anything. My stomach is growling."

Confused, I asked, "Like in a hungry way, or in a diarrhea way?"

He stared straight ahead at the road and stone-faced replied, "Fire-rhea."

Make My Day!!!!

Ok, Gllen wins the prize for Best-Boyfriend-A-Birthday-Girl-Could-Ask-For. After finding out that my original dinner plans had been cancelled, Gllen threw together a dinner party for me that knocked my socks off.

He chef-tastic'd his way around our kitchen for a DAY AND A HALF creating a feast for us and 8 of our friends. To give you an idea of the intensity of his devotion to this meal, he made eight loaves of french bread from scratch. That's insane. That's time consuming. That's my boyfriend.

He was so excited to make this meal, he told me that it was like it was HIS birthday. The night before, he spent hours researching what he wanted to create,and I gave small bits of input and signed off on each course. He sat next to me on the couch creating time tables and occasionally glancing at me with widened eyes and chuckling at how crazy the next day would be.

He woke up early to start the bread, and then was on his feet for the rest of the day. This is the amazingness he pulled off:

Janelle's Birthday Dinner

1a
Baguette with Garlic Olive Oil
1b
Roasted Red Pepper Bruschetta with Mozzarella
(Cio Bella)

2
Romaine Salad with Homemade Croutons and Lemon Vinaigrette
(Emeril Lagasse)

3
Seared Sea Scallops with Sauteed Wild Mushrooms, and Roasted Garlic Beurre Blanc
(Recipe by Chef Michael Jordan at Rosmary's Restaurant) - (Parsley, Tarragon, Chives, Basil in Beurre Blanc)
(mushrooms: Oyster, Portabella, Shitake, White)
3a
Roasted Garlic Mashed Potatoes
3b
Roasted Asparagus

4
Strawberry Rhubarb Crisp with Vanilla Ice Cream

THANK YOU BOYFRIEND!

We Have A Winner

Ever since we saw the Food Wars episode about the Jucy Lucy, Gllen has wanted to get a taste of the competition.

On the way there, we counted down the history of the worst dates we've ever been on. I was surprised that Gllen could even remember a single date, much less the worst ones. Surprise, surprise. His opinion of our worst dates have nothing to do with me... just the quality of the restaurant and the service. Top of the list was a bad service experience at Don Pablos. Go figure. And then, conversely, the best date was this year's Valentine's - because it was at BeWiched.

And I think everyone knows who was the winner of the Jucy Lucy war. Gllen has obviously become a true Minnesotan.

Cheddar Bay

As I type this, Gllen is attempting to recreate the Red Lobster Cheddar Bay Biscuit. Using only the ingredients we have on hand. Before we remembered that we had normal cheddar cheese in the fridge, he contemplated making it with the low fat shred I had on hand. I know. I was shocked too. Thankfully, it didn't come to that.

I told Gllen, "If you manage to recreate those cheddar biscuits, there will be no reason to ever go to Red Lobster again."

Gllen pondered this and asked me sadly, "But what about the lobster and the Long Island Iced Teas?"

Serious eye-roll from me. A Long Island Iced Tea is not a reason to go to a Red Lobster.

Soooooo Out of Character

Sometimes when I don't feel like cooking, I just throw a frozen meal in the toaster oven. Now, I'm pretty picky about frozen meals: specifically, I don't trust meat that I haven't cooked. All frozen or packaged dinners that I consume must be meatless. End of story. So, there's only a few frozen meal that I'll actually eat - one of them being a SmartOnes (Weight Watchers) Santa Fe Style Rice and Beans.

Now, the three times I have cooked this, Gllen always wanders out of his office and wonders aloud at what smells so good. I always tell him, "It's a diet frozen dinner that is mostly just rice and beans." This usually deters him from further questioning - rice and beans are like kryptonite to him - but he'll still continue to comment about how good it smells.

I made this little frozen dinner tonight, and of course, Gllen is led by his nose to where I'm sitting, wondering what smells so good. I tell him its my diet frozen dinner (with a dollop of sour cream and copious amounts of Frank's Hot Sauce). He recoils. I insist that he try it, just so he'll know (and maybe stop being such a lurker about it).

He grimaces as he approaches the outstretched fork. He barely opens his mouth to take in the food. He chews. He smiles. He proclaims "It's delicious!" He licks his lips and looks amazed. "Wow! That's awesome! I mean, maybe I'd add a little meat to it, but it's really good!"

At this point, I don't even know what to say. I just sit there repeating, "WHAT? You like it? What? It has rice! It has beans! ITS DIET!!!! How? What? WHAT?"

He saunters back to his office, throwing over his shoulder, "It smells good, it tastes good, that's all I need!"

I am left staring at his closed office door, baffled. He just blew my mind. People can change. Maybe the next thing he'll start to enjoy is being photographed. Or going dancing. Or maybe he'll like watching a Musical!

But I won't get my hopes up. For now, I'll just hide my frozen dinners in the back of the freezer.

The Other Side of the Story

Some of you may have read Gllen's blog and seen some of his his food creations. This is the place where he proudly displays the meats and other random things he has cooked. And it's all very nice. Except, I wanted to share with you MY side of the story, and give you an image of what I see:

Three plates for one meal. For one person. For Gllen. And these plates are likely to still be sitting on the kitchen table when I get home. Because Gllen is very industrious about cleaning the kitchen BEFORE he cooks, but rarely afterwards. Probably because he is so saturated with meat that the most he can do is move sloth-like to the couch, and, with great effort, hold a remote control.

Thwarted

Gllen was in a crabby mood today.

He went out this morning to get some money and hunt for his lunch. As he left, he still wasn't sure which fast food place he wanted to go to.

Fast forward to when I heard him come home. He had a bag of beef jerky. No lunch. He saw me enter the room and fled to his office. I followed, puzzled. As I sat down to talk to him, he started making monster noises that indicated that he was mad. No words were spoken, but plenty of growls and hisses and a solitary burp.

After much coaxing, I got him to tell me what was wrong: He was mad because he didn't get lunch. "Well, why didn't you get some?" I asked.

He growled again but finally told me, "I went to Baja Sol and the parking lot was full. So I went to D'Amico and that parking lot was full. So then I decided to go to Chipotle, but as I passed Baja Sol again, I noticed some parking spaces were open. But by the time I turned around, the lot was full again. So I just went home."

"Well," I pondered, trying to figure out a way to make him happy, "I could heat up some of the soup your dad sent you home with."

He curled back his lips and shook his head. "Now I'm too full of beef jerky."

I just stared at him and then left the room. Some causes are just lost.

He IS the White Elephant

Gllen was able to go to one of my holiday gatherings this year because it occurred early. With my Mom's side of the family, our holiday celebration has come to include lots of cocktails, appetizers and the dice game.

In preparation for the party, we stole the Ricketts' Buffalo Chicken dip recipe. Gllen tried to convince me that we needed to make a practice version of it. I denied him. Even without a dress rehearsal, the dip came out delicious. We both ate our fair share and there were no leftovers when we left.

So, other than eating a good portion of dip and drinking about 9 beers, Gllen was pretty quiet. Until the dice game. That's when things got rowdy.

After the first round, Gllen had acquired a good amount of gifts - one being a DIY coloring kit for a velvet poster. He actually seemed excited about it. So, now it was time to steal gifts. With so many treasures to pick from, Gllen turned to me and said, "I know exactly what I'm going for first." I glanced around the room. Could it be the slotted spoon? The carton of Whoppers? The spiral notebook?

When he rolled his first set of doubles, he shouted out, "Sauerkraut!" Yes. Someone had thrown in a can of sauerkraut as a joke, and Gllen had been vying for it from the moment he laid eyes on it. I laughed with the rest of my family. It wasn't until he rolled doubles again and shouted "BEETS!" that I almost died.

I announced the room, "We just broke up. Seriously. It's over." Gllen leapt up and claimed his prize, unconcerned about the status of our relationship. My cousin looked relieved that he had taken it. But now Gllen had, in his opinion, the best gifts there.

No one tried to steal them back from him.

Sugar High

This is what happens when I let Gllen go to the bulk foods section at the grocery store:

After he loaded up all his bags of goodies, he complained, "Why did you let me go near there?" As if I can control him... I asked, "But are you happy now?"

"YES."

Dreams Really Do Come True

I've been pestering Gllen about taking a vacation together for a while. He usually ignores my attempts to plan a fabulous getaway for a few reasons:

1. He doesn't want to go anywhere that he'll be hot.
2. It costs money.
3. He doesn't want to be hot.

Today, for a moment, I thought my dreams came true. Gllen said to me, "Girly, we should take a vacation together..." My heart started to race and I gasped, unable to contain my astonishment. And then he finished his sentence "...to eat at different fast food restaurants that we don't have around here."

Look out world!

Feed Me, Seymour!

Gllen wanted to cook dinner for us tonight. Before I left for work, he asked me to send him recipe ideas. I had barely had my morning coffee, when we had this conversation:

gllen: http://allrecipes.com/Recipe/Slow-Cooker-Barbeque/Detail.aspx
me:: i am not diggin on the bbq
i prefer meat like that plain.
i am weird i guess
bbq is for chicken tenders
gllen:: too late
YOU WILL EAT IT AND LIKE IT END OF STORY

Apparently, my input is unneccessary.

Delight in the great taste of real bananas

I bought some banana flavored Cheerios the other day. I ate some for dinner today. The box was sitting next to me when Gllen came in to spend some time with me. After sitting with me for about twenty minutes, he said, "What do you have for dessert? You have to have something."

I picked up the box of Cheerios and handed it to him. He shook out a handful. He tipped the handful into his mouth. He chewed. It seemed to be going well for him, so I stopped paying attention.

Ten minutes later, I hear him say, "I can't stop eating all of your Cheerios, Girlfriend." He had a sad look on his face, as he continued to chew and tip more cereal into his cupped hand.

Five more minutes passed. He put down the box. I looked inside. There was barely enough to make a decent bowl of cereal. I told him this. He grabbed the box and said, "Fine, you've convinced me to eat the rest of it." He ate.

Ten minutes later, the empty box lay on the floor and Gllen says to me, "What do you say?" I was confused. "Say about what?" He stared at me for a second. His mouth formed the words, but my brain refused to comprehend them: "I want dessert."

I waved my hands around, gesturing at the empty box, "You just ate at least half a box of cereal!!!"

With an earnest expression, he told me, "That was pre-dessert. I want real dessert now."

Poultry Sacrifice

Yesterday, I told Gllen that I wanted to us to make dinner together. We have been eating separately a lot, so its nice every once in a while to cook together. I feel like we have been neglecting our grill this summer, so I suggested that we try to make a beer-can chicken. This sent Gllen into a flurry of online research. For the next half hour, every time I looked over at his computer, I saw pictures of an impaled chicken. He gleaned precious knowledge and finally declared, "I know exactly what to do now."

I was assigned the task of grocery shopping, which freed from from all chicken prep and cooking duties. This pleases me. Gllen was busy creating a special rub for the chicken upon my return. I dumped the groceries on him, ordering him to unpack everything and put it away because I had had an accident with a case of soda in my car. Long story short, the case broke as I was hauling it to my car and several cans exploded. When I returned, he was fist-deep in the cavern of the chicken, and I sailed past him into the sanctuary of the living room, mentally singing "lalala!"

Two hours later, we had a perfectly cooked chicken. And, to give back to the internet community, I will now post pictures of OUR impaled chicken:

I can honestly say that it was the juiciest chicken I have ever eaten. And Gllen was very pleased. It was the first time in my life that I have ever seen Gllen eat meat WITHOUT BBQ. If you are nice, maybe he'll share his recipe with you.

Monkey See, Monkey Do

A couple of weeks ago, I awoke in the night to a Sasquatch standing over my bed and grunting. Rather than screaming with fear, I asked the beast, "What's wrong?" It whimpered out something that sounded like "charlie horse".

The past few nights, I myself and woken up with a serious cramp in my calf. Last night was no exception. Having suffered too many nights in a row, I told Gllen that I had been getting charlie horses in the middle of the night, and he exclaimed "Me too!". (On a side note, we had a discussion about how we deal with the charlie horse, where my remedy is to pull my toes back towards my knee until the muscle releases. He was unaware of this procedure and told me he usually just sits or stands up until it goes away. He's passive like that.) With new resolve, I told him, "We need to get some bananas."

This excited him to no end, (and not just because he could hollaback some Gwen Stafani to me). He tells me, in a secretive manner, "I've discovered a new way to eat bananas!" I wanted to know what he meant and inquired if it was a new preparation he learned, or some sort of ingredient combination. He wouldn't give. I was promised a demonstration once I returned with the bananas.

Upon my return from the grocery store, I handed Gllen a banana and he grinned from ear to ear. He asked me, "How do you peel your banana?" I shrugged, never having given it much thought. "Do you snap the top?" He asked. I was like, "yeah, of course." With an air of expertise, he said "There is a much better way." He took the banana and held it with the bottom up. He pinched the bottom of the banana, and the peel split in two and unfolded from the fruit. He explained "This is the way monkeys do it".

Unable to hide my mirth, I asked, "How did you learn what monkeys do?" He told me with sincerity, "I saw an online video" and bit into the banana.

Later when I visited him in his office, I told him that I had opened my own banana that way and it worked rather well. He excitedly asked me, "Did you notice that it makes a handle???!!!!"

Next thing you know, he'll be telling me how a stick is such a HANDY tool to capture and eat ants with.

Burning

Gllen is famous for making these spicy-as-hell wings. I think he picked up the recipe from the food network, but ever since I've been dating him, he's been making these fire-hot wings, so at this point I feel this recipe is truly his own. I remember a time when I was constantly nauseated and unappetized by even the most juicy fast food hamburger... he made these wings and I practically inhaled them. However, the miracle wings come with a price: the process in which he cooks them involves walking through purgatory.

He literally sautes about six habanero peppers and then adds Louisiana hot sauce and honey. This process fills the entire house with the equivalent of the deadliest mace on the market. As he cooks, he coughs and sneezes and I'm sure I've heard our neighbors doing the same. I try to retreat, but the poisonous aromatics follow wherever you go.

He makes about 6 pounds of chicken anytime he does this recipe, so that he'll be able to eat wings for days. Today, he was reheating a portion of the batch he made yesterday. As he sat down on the couch to eat, he had barely taken a bite before he got up again to turn off the fan that was blowing in cool night air. I asked him why he would turn the fan off, knowing that his most hated physically ailment is being hot. He responds, "It cools off the wings too fast." As if anything could extinguish the fires of hell.

Ruined For Life

Gllen recently discovered the glory of the Whole Foods meat counter. On a quick trip there one day, he was window shopping the meats and (even though he had recently eaten dinner) was drooling at the display. The next day, it was all he could think about. When I came home from work, he immediately started asking me if we could go back. I finally caved and we set out on our journey.

After about 30 seconds in the store, he was no longer by my side. As I browsed the vegetables and fruits, Gllen ran off to the meat counter. I didn't find him again until 15 minutes later. He had the biggest grin on his face. As we walked out to the car, he started to laugh to himself. Clutching the paper bag in his hand, he loped towards the car with a spring in his step. He stated, "The guy at the meat counter and I just sat and giggled and each other."

I stopped in my tracks. Not only was Gllen offering up information without my prodding, he was telling me that he INTERACTED with someone. "Why?"

The story poured forth: "I told him I wanted a really thick rib-eye. He said, 'Well, I have THESE!' and he pointed to these rib-eye roasts. They are like as big as my head." He grunted his approval at the meat counter dude and as the guy packaged up the meat, I guess they both sat and giggled at the amazingness of the meat and how delicious it would be. It is now a favorite pastime of mine to imagine this exchange.

When we got it home, Gllen unwrapped the steak and I realized he was being modest about the steak. I had to get out a ruler to measure just how thick it was...

Imagine some Gllen evil laughter as he watched me measure his steak's massive four inches. Back to the story... He allowed the steak to rest, but had to keep going back to revel in its beauty, and, yes, he was stroking it:

Of course, I'm hooting with laughter, running around taking pictures. This one is now Gllen's desktop wallpaper:

As he cooked it, Gllen was drooling and slurping like Jaques Pepin. Every so often, he would raise his fists in the air, shaking them to a fro as if shaking a money tree for all it was worth. The final product was a thing of beauty (to Gllen - I didn't really care. I was more interested in watching Gllen court the steak).

He was only able to eat about an eighth of it before he was full. And that potato was just garnish, as far as I am concerned. Don't worry, though. He was able to finish it over the course of a few days. Every last bite.

Now, though, I'm worried. This was Gllen's white whale - the ultimate rib-eye. What could possibly top this?

Food Photography II

On the same roll of film as the lovely McDonalds breakfast sandwich, we also found our first attempt at cooking a Jacques Pepin chicken recipe. Now, we are kinda in love with good old Jacques, and I personally believe the Gllen emulates this chef in the kitchen, slurping away over the food in anticipation of it's deliciousness.

This particular recipe is for roasting a chicken in under an hour by cutting out the spine and spreading it open onto a fry pan for searing, then finishing it in the oven. (I always have to cover me ears and hide under something as Gllen happily hacks and cracks away at the carcass - eeew.) Gllen has prepared this about 10 times since this picture was taken, and I'm pretty sure it will be the only way he'll cook a whole chicken from now on. He's also quite taken with creating sauce from the drippings using red wine.

I still remember quite clearly, after the meal had been prepared, Gllen seized the camera to document his creation. With a zealous flair, he nimbly maneuvered around the plate, ducking here, zooming there, shuffling to the side and clicking away. He must have taken at least 10 pictures.

Unfortunately, we haven't gotten the lighting correct yet, and he's not happy with these pictures because you can't tell what the heck is on the plate (he has high standards) so this will have to do until the next roll of film is developed.

Food Photography I

Gllen and I have decided to delve into the magical world of food photography. Not wanting to immediately invest in a fancy digital camera, we dusted off my old 35mm to start practicing. Without the instant gratification of digital display, our experiments and their outcome have been a complete mystery, up until now. I finally dropped off the film at Walgreens a few weekends ago. (I can only giggle at the idea of the photo lab workers puzzling about who the hell takes ten pictures in a row of cooked chicken?) We knew at the start that lighting would be crucial - the best lighting being the natural sunlight in our kitchen. Unfortunately, we don't ever cook in the morning. Thus, our best picture happens to be our very first test subject... a pathetic McDonald's breakfast sandwich.