I Found Love In A Box

Last night, I drove 20 minutes out of my way for food. I know what you're thinking. "Tsk, tsk, tsk, J-Bird. I thought we were losing weight?". And you're right, we *are* trying to lose weight. But I'm grown and I do what I want, dammit! And what I wanted last night were great cupcakes. So, I went to Pink Moon.

They have short business hours but I managed to get there a half hour before close. And at first, I was so sad. There were all these beautiful cupcake plates and not. one. cupcake. None. They were all gone. I didn't want to ask but I think the look on my face said it all. The nice lady behind the counter promised me that they really did have cupcakes but they start frosting to order as they get closer to closing time.

There was one daily special left and it was the Dreamsicle cupcake. Now, in real life, I don't care for Dreamsicles at all. But I've never met a cupcake that I didn't like and I obviously was going to be part of an elite group so I bought it and two others. I drove home wanting to pack my mouth full of cupcakes during the ride but knowing that these cupcakes right here were special.

It was like Christmas in my kitchen

I'm gonna be real honest with you here. I touched my tongue to the sweet, tangy, soft, orange-y butter cream frosting and about lost my mind. That is why there aren't any photos to prove that the Dreamsicle cupcake exists. I ate it scarfed it while standing at my kitchen counter, rolling my eyes in the back of my head and moaning, "Mmmmmm...", "Oh my God" and "This is SO good!".

You make that much noise while eating a cupcake and people are bound to notice. So, when someone doesn't exactly asked you to share but definitely says that they look so good and that they'll have to remember to make it out there to the bakery. And when you know that they really want one of the other two cupcakes that you really should share because your mother raised you better. And after you've promised yourself that you will go back to Pink Moon and replace the cupcake you're going to give away. After you steel your emotions and talk yourself out of crying at the idea of giving away God's gift to baked goods. When you've done all of that, you offer them the chocolate chocolate cupcake - on the condition that you be allowed to take photos of the experience (and because giving them the Pumpkin Buttercream is completely out of the question).

Pumpkin Buttercream in the back; Chocolate-Chocolate in the front

Choc-Choc halved. There's a better pic but it won't upload

The thing about it is that no one (except maybe children) will agree to letting me put pictures of them on my blog. At least, not with a mouth full of cupcake (and a nose tip covered in frosting).

So, let me describe it for you in words.

The Pink Moon cupcake has to be broken down into it's succulent layers. The cake is a heavy, dense cake that is packed full of flavor. At first, you think it's too much because of the weight of the cupcake but as you can see from the sliced chocolate-chocolate cupcake, there's a good 1/2 inch of icing on there. When you bite into the cake it is moist and doesn't crumble but instead chunks. Yes, small bits of cake fall here and there. You will want to rescue them with a press of your index finger but (DON'T!) you'll only make it worse. The moisture in the cake requires that you use your index finger and thumb to retrieve the morsels. People will stare; you won't be sorry.

All cupcakes are frosted with a flavored butter cream frosting. It's soft and sweet and sticky. Pink Moon frosting is light and touched with just the right amount of flavor. The Dreamsicle frosting had an orange-y tang that took me back to the days of ice cream trucks and Saturday morning cartoons. It laid effortlessly atop the cupcake and moved easily when I pushed it around the cake to get coverage on the sides. The bit of chocolate frosting that I stole had hint of dark cacao and I'm sure paired perfectly with the dense chocolate cake.

At $3 a piece, I'd buy them again. Every day. For the rest of my life if I could afford it. Lucky for me, I thought ahead and have a Pumpkin Buttercream cupcake waiting for me when I get home tonight. If you're in Central Ohio and can make the time (and find the money), I recommend taking a short trip to Pink Moon Cupcake Bakery. It's totally worth it.

Happy New Year!

I hope that your celebrations were everything you wanted them to be. I forewent cleaning my kitchen to read 200 pages from this amazing mystery novel, but stopped just in time to make all the delicious good luck foods that Gram used to make.

Nat and Mr. T came by to watch Easy A and drink sangria. We finished by missing the ball drop and throwing confetti 15 seconds too late. Hahaha!

Happy New Year to you and your families. May it be filled with prosperity and joy.

Published with Blogger-droid v1.6.5

Day 21: A Recipe

When I first saw this recipe, I was all, "Nuh-uh! I ain't eating that. Taco meat belongs in tacos". I was wrong. (You might want to print this post out because you won't ever see that sentence again)

Tacos in Pasta Shells




1 ¼ pounds Lean ground beef

3 oz Cream cheese

1 tsp Salt

1 tsp Chili Powder

18 Jumbo pasta shells

2 Tbsp Butter, melted

1 cup Taco sauce

1 cup shredded Cheddar Cheese

1 cup shredded Monterey Jack Cheese

1 ½ cups Crushed tortilla chips

1 cup Sour cream





Directions:



1. In a large skillet, brown beef over medium heat until no longer pink; drain. Add cream cheese, salt, and chili powder; mix and simmer for 5 minutes.

2. Meanwhile, bring a large pot of lightly salted water to a boil. Add pasta and cook for 8-10 minutes or until al dente; drain. Toss cooked shells in butter.

3. Preheat oven to 350*

4. Fill shells with beef mixture and arrange in a 9X13 inch baking dish; pour taco sauce over shells. Cover with foil and bake in oven for 15 minutes.

5. Remove dish from oven and top with Cheddar cheese, Monterey Jack cheese and tortilla chips; return dish to oven to cook for 15 minutes more.

6. Top with sour cream, olives, and onions.



Enjoy!!!

Thankful Thursday

Today, I'm thankful for all of the simple things.

• my inner Betty Crocker
• my inner Susie Homemaker
• nesting
• Free stuff online!
• my mad skills
• flannel 'jama pants
• solid foods
• the 10 pounds I lost because I couldn't eat solid foods for a week.
• my mad skillz

Check it!

And theeennnn!!!

So Much AppleSauce! That's 12 quarts right there. We commence canning this evening.

Doesn't Every Post Deserve a Title

Scene: I'm driving the "Mom Van" to my local grocery store. I debate whether I should detour and get carry-out chicken wings instead. I know I shouldn't because my pantry and freezer and quite literally spilling over with food. But still...

Cilantro. Tomatoes. Chips.
Cilantro. Tomatoes. Chips.
That's all we're gonna buy because that's all we need for guacamole.
Ooooh! B-Dubs! Today is wing Tuesday...
No! No, J-Bird! Cilantro. Tomatoes. Chips.

Damn this traffic!
"Hey, Asshole!" *honks horn for 10 solid seconds before realizing she looks like a murderous stepmother*

*gas light comes on* Cheese and Rice! I'm definitely getting chicken now.

Scene: In the grocery store produce section.

Cilantro. Avocado? No, I have those. I should get another one though. Mmm, jalapenos. I'll get one of those too; make it spicy.

Where are the tomatoes? I should have totally scoped this place out before I was hungry.

What was that last thing?

Me: Huh?
Grocery Store Produce Guy: Are you finding everything OK?
Me: Oh, yup. Except tomatoes. Do you only have these super expensive because you cut them from the plant but left the vine intact and then squished them into an ill-fitting plastic container tomatoes? Or can I get some regular ones?
GSPG: The other ones are over here.
Me: Cool beans.

As you can see, my grocery trip was pretty mundane. It's the standard food acquisition attempt. I continued to walk around aimlessly, feigning interest in the store's displays while looking for the perfect tortilla chip with which to consume my planned dinner.

No way! Tostitos on sale!?! Bust a move! *begins to dance foolishly in the snack aisle*

I walk toward the registers to see him. My Ex. The African.

**Confidently, I walk past him with my basket swinging off my arm. He doesn't notice me so I begin to scan my loyalty card secretly hoping that the loud hussy will say my full name in a tone that he can hear at his register. She lets me down. I need help finding the produce code on an item. Fortunately, the cashier assistant is in close proximity.

Me (voice tinkling like a tiny bell): Excuse me, miss? My tomatoes don't have a produce number and I don't see them on this screen. Are you able to help me?
Miss: Sure. This button here and voila! You're all set.
Me: Why thank you so kindly.
The African: J-Bird!?! Is that you?
Me: The African? *smiles gently and extends hand for cordial shake* I barely noticed you. How have you been?
The African: Oh my god! You look great! Are you losing weight?
Me: You noticed? Thank you for noticing. ***Nolan says that he can't tell a difference what with seeing me everyday and all.
The African: Nolan? You're married.
Me: No, you know I don't believe in it. But we did just have our first baby, Storey. They're around here somewhere.
The African: Uh huh. *gives me skeptical look*
*Up walks my super sexy baby machine. Tall like Brady Quinn, face like Freddie Prinze Jr, hair like John Krasinski, and super dedicated with our baby strapped to his chest. Think that one time that Carrie saw Aiden being all happily married with his baby strapped to his chest, only I'm Aiden and being super snarkily bitchy about it.*
Me: Yup.
*Nolan grabs our groceries and I grab his hand as our super adorable baby who obviously just got picked up for a Gerber commercial coos gently.*

Fin.
Or maybe...

OH. MY. GAWD. Did he see me? Stand still, J-Bird, stand still. No, he doesn't see me. OK. OK. He's on the phone. We can do this. Just back up slowly and silently.

*runs two aisles over*

Oh! Perrier! With lemon! Well, we're gonna get two of those. Yay, us!

*tip toes sneakily to the Self Checkout behind The African*

We can do this. We can get out of here and he'll never have to know we were this close. Dammit! Come on you bastard jalapeno, scan!

Dammit! Oh! She'll help me.

Me: Excuse me.

*woman continues to walk away*

Me: Excuse me.

She's gonna make me chase her?

Me: Excuse me, miss!

Oh, I know this bitch can here me!

Me: Hey! Excuse! Me!
Her: Oh! I didn't even see you! lolololololol
Mmmhmmm. You gonna make me get all...

The African: J-Bird! Hey!

Me: Ack!

Her: You made her just about jump out her skin. lololololol (she is quite the cackle-y bitch, isn't she?)

The African: How are you?

Me: Um, well, I'm good. I've started eating again. heh.

What the hell is wrong with you? He can look at your fat ass and tell that you've been eating! You're in a grocery store! Get it together, Bird! Get your head in the game!

The African: What have you been up to?

Me (ferociously bagging groceries): OK. Bye. ****

He looked so sad. It's quite obvious that I'm avoiding him like the plague. What's worst is that I wanted to say was, "How am I? I'm trying to figure out why you get to stand here looking all GQ with your dark jeans, purple striped button down and fantastic leather wing tips while I'm here in shorts that say '*    S    T    A    R' and breaking out like a 16-year-old, Halo-playing virgin". But I didn't because I couldn't find my tongue. There's something about his dark, bespectacled, statuesque body that makes me absolutely stupid.

And then? When I went to get wings? The Trainer was in B-Dubs. I cannot believe that I went through all of that to change my phone number and still managed to come into contact with both of these fools.

You wouldn't happen to have a plane ticket I could borrow?


** Events recorded here may or may not be based on actual occurrences or delusions of grandeur.

*** Is that not the perfect man name?

**** If I'm a punk, you're mom's a bowling ball. Yeah, deal with that.

Can't You See I'm On My Knees for Mac 'n' Cheese?

I like to cook and that's a good thing because I just so happen to be damned good at it. Actually, I'm mediocre at best but quality cookware from The Pampered Chef and fancy pants ingredients like Gruyere make my food damned good.

My food is so good that at some point in your life, should you be blessed enough to partake, you will be acting all inappropriate at the dinner table what with the moaning and licking of your plate. Don't worry. It's cool. I'm so used to it by now that I just figure that I can live and let live. Besides, spontaneous orgasm has the be THE greatest compliment e.v.e.r.

Every so often, I become obsessed with certain food categories, like casseroles, stews, and currently, fritattas. When I was in my casserole phase, nothing was sacred. If I could put it in a dish with something else and wow you then that's exactly what I did. I took regular dishes and turned them into culinary masterpieces, complete with an inter mixture of flavors that danced in tandem along your pallet. You like that sentence? That's $30k worth of education right there.

One day, when it was really cold outside and hot chocolate just wasn't enough to make it better, Nat said, "Mac 'n' cheese would be so good right now". Obviously, it was a challenge. So, I break open Mom's cabinets to pull out the basics then rolled to the store to get the good stuff. You know the stuff: aged Parmesan, Gruyere, saffron; the foods of the gods. I blended these into a sauce worthy of unaccompanied ingestion. And then covered it with a buttery crouton topping and let it bake its way to happiness. It was ready to eat just in time to sit in front of the fire. Mmmmmm...

You see? It's good right? I told this story to Big Poppa and he said, "My mac 'n' cheese is better". I scoff at him because this fool must.not.know. How can his possibly be better when he only uses standard cheddar cheese? Of course, his defiance brings on an adjective war. I know I'm gonna win when I use "orgasmic". But alas, he claims his mac 'n' cheese is like hitting the "G-spot" and showed me exactly what he meant.

Imagine if you will, that you're sitting next to a close friend of over three years. And while he's talking to you, he takes his left hand, thrusts it into the air, extends his index and middle fingers together, bends them ever so slightly using their natural curvature and then commences to wiggle them. All to illustrate his point. Kinda like this:

I felt dirty. I felt mentally violated. I felt wet from having dribbled water down my front. It was hilariously menacing. And the best part was that he was in a G-spot trance. I was laughing too hard to get words out and finally had to force his hand back to his side.

Big Poppa,

Of all the things you and I have done together and of all the times we've shared, this will always be my favorite. Thanks for the memories.

P.S. ~ there's no way in hell I'm ever gonna let you live this shit down so don't even ask.

Righteous!

I am definitely trying to make the most of the last few weekends I have here in the Friendliest state in the Union. This weekend was packed as tight as the one before it and next weekend promises to be just as exciting.

It started on Friday, where I almost missed my own dinner because I got sidetracked by the thought of brats on a grill. It was only when I walked through my own threshhold that it dawned on me that I had people coming over to my own house for dinner. At my invitation. And I have a planner now. WTF?

But dinner turned out to be tons o' fun. I got to reconnect with some friends and gossip like we were in a hair salon. They headed out to the concert and I gave sad face but I needed to clean before The Scorpio came to pick up his cake. Believe it or not he was right on time. Like exactly. This even deserves a post all its own so I'll leave you in suspense.

Saturday was the Spring Game. It's my first taste of football since the Super Bowl and I was amped to go. I went with an old friend of mine and we talked about him and how he's been since we lost touch. Then, after the game, we hit up the mall for some ice cream and then after that I treated him to dinner. I mean, who wants to live in a world where someone doesn't know the deliciousness that is Carrabba's?

He was so nervous because he doesn't get treated often (I would hate to be a guy if it meant I always had to pay) but it was nice just to have company and someone to talk to. I loved watching him enjoy himself. I'm a giver that way. Plus, it's Prom Season. And there's nothing cuter than teenagers dressed in their glittery finest acting all grown up and such. It made me saw, "Awwwwww." out loud it was that cute.

It really was the perfect end to an already stellar day. I went home and took care of the animals. They were just excited to see me. And then I packed a bag and stayed at Mom's. She's never seen Twilight or New Moon. Nat and I are not fans of the series so we had decided to have a snark off. My favorite quote of the night, "Why doesn't someone just smack her already and move on?" -- Mom.

We went to dinner at Quaker Steak & Lube. Mom's husband was his usual rude self and we had two checks. One with him, April & Becca and then me, Mom and Nat. I don't want to say that it's because he hadn't intended for me and Nat to come. But it is because he thought that they were just going to leave without saying goodbye and then when we realized we weren't invited gave puzzled looks so Mom extended the invitation. Nice, huh?

I talked to the Scorpio some more on Sunday and we both want to try again but question whether we should we try again. I poured out my heart and made myself completely vulnerable. He told me it was sweet. I looked on in disdain. He explained it as being flattered that someone cares about him. I equate that to saying I love you and receiving a Thanks. You know?

I ended the night with a gyro, three shots of whiskey and a beer. Good times indeed.

Friday Foodie

Hello Beautiful Bloggies!!

I have a special treat for you today. I'm sure you know how much I love food, especially snacky food. That's why I feel a need to share another fantastic, low-calorie snack with you.

Have you ever had a ridiculous craving that was almost impossible to satiate? Do you find yourself wanting sweet, salty, crunchy and chewy all in one? Have you ever been on the brink of setting fire to your kitchen because it couldn't meet your need? Ok. Well maybe that last one is just me.

But if you answered yes to any of these questions, then I have the perfect snack for you.

It's the Special K Cholcolatey Pretzel Bar.

Yes, it tastes as good as it looks.

Yes, it has the perfect balance of crisp and salty pretzels to chewy granola and semi-sweet chocolate.

Yes, it's only 90 calories!

Yes, I bought two boxes and put a security system around them. I won't share.

Trust me, peeps. I know what I'm talking about here. Even if you can't get down with the comedic stylings of Allie at Hyperbole and a Half, I'm sure we can come to an agreement on this fantastic little snack.

Because I'm in the Mood

I've never had a "Best Friend".

Wait. That's a lie.

I haven't had a best friend since 1989. Her name was Melanie and she lived next door. I thought we were going to be best friends forever. I was six. What did I know?

I knew that she was the only person I could tell all my secrets to. I knew that she was better than a sister because I was never bored with her. I knew that we were going to be friends forever.

And I was soooo wrong. Just about the third part though. Because the rest of it is still true to this day. But when my family moved away from Panama, I thought that Melanie was coming too. I was wrong again. And it hurt so badly that I promised myself that I would never have another best friend.

I was right that time. It totally made sense for me to not let anyone else in because after the 3 years in California my family moved every year. Every year!!

Can you imagine if I'd spread my secrets all over the globe like that?!? Ay Carumba!

Most people think that I'm cold. Some call me elitest. Others go straight for the heart and say that I'm prejudiced. And I'm not going to say that any of them are wrong. But they left out the part about being changed.

I never knew, or rather had forgotten, what it would be like to have a best friend. That person that you tell your secrets to. The one that accepts you for 100% of yourself. Someone who forgives you your trespasses even if you dont know you trespassed. The friend whose house you can walk into and have a meal or raid the fridge. The first person you call when things are going bad AND when they're good.

I forgot that until today at 5pm on the dot. That's when Mrs. G called me. She called because when everything about this week became too much and went to hell I told her. And she called at the first opportunity.

It occured to me after I hung up the phone that she weaseled her way into my measly little heart. Mrs. G, I just wish you'd told me that you were a ninja. We could've used your skills for profit. =)

As I strolled through the mall with my fresh-from-the-oven peacn Cinnabon and on my BFF high, I passed Panera Bread and said to myself "this would be way better than Taco Bell".

I stroll in and break away from my normal meal of pick two-ness and decide on a cafe sandwich. I just want the turkey one without mustard. She takes my order, she picked the wrong bread. We fix that and I pay. The kid on the assembly line says, "How do you make a Sierra Turkey without mustard".

Got damn that prick!!

Prick: How do you make a Sierra Turkey without mustard? *teenage boy snicker*

Me: I don't like mustard. Don't put mustard on it.

Prick: How am I supposed to do that? heh. heh.

Me: Just don't. It's a fresh-made sandwich. How hard can it be?

Nice Girl at Register: I would think it'd be easier with fewer ingredients.

Nice boy beginning my sandwich: Dude, just stop.

Prick: Well then what are we supposed to put on it.

NB: Do you want mayo still? And lettuce?

Me: Yes, please. Whatever comes on it just not mustard.

Prick: Where'd you even get mustard?

Me (ready to punch his mustachioed face): It says it comes with mayo, mustard, lettuce, tomato, onion, salt and pepper. I don't want mustard.

NB: I can add tomato if you'd like.

Me: That's fine.

Prick: Only the ham and swiss and the country turkey come with that stuff. You got the Sierra Turkey.

Me: IS MY DISDAIN FOR MUSTARD GOING TO BE A PROBLEM!!!!!! BECAUSE I AM MORE THAN WILLING TO TELL YOUR MANAGER HOW MY CONDIMENT PREFERENCE IS AN ISSUE FOR YOU.

Prick: *heavy teenage boy sigh* I'm just saying you were wrong.

Greg (the only person in a Panera shirt over 21 and therefore the likely Shift Manager): Hello Ma'am. Is everything alright with your sandwich.

Me: Yes. Nice Boy made my sandwich perfectly. But Prick... he has a thing about mustard.

Yup. It happened just like that.