life is so unfair…but in a good way

This is me and my friends at 18, circa 1988:

Can you guess which one is me? Hint: I’m wearing something made out of stolen trailer park drapes.

Now, this is my daughter and her friends at 18:

Actually, they’re not quite 18 in this pic, but still??? WTF??? These kids all look like supermodels.! Me-I looked like a reject from a Depeche Mode video casting call. What the hell happened? Is it something in the water? What are we feeding these kids that’s causing them to mature so damn fast? We simply cannot be from the same genepool. My theory is I was kidnapped by the government and held unconscious for several days at a CIA Population Control Camp, where my own aesthetically inferior fetus was extracted and replaced by a genetically perfect cyborg babybot vastly superior in both beauty and intellect to her subpar maternal host. This was part of a covert environmental welfare initiative started by our nations leaders targeted at homely or odd looking individuals who have the potential to further pollute our nation’s landscape by spawning future generations of ugly children.Removal of the uncomely child was considered to be beneficial to the overall psychiatric well being of the parents, as well as the entire nation, because let’s face it-nobody wants to look at an ugly child, let alone be burdened with the awesome responsibilty of loving it and nuturing it for 18 years. It was a bold move by our leaders to drop the number of child neglect and abandonment cases nationwide, as well as a cooperative effort with Abercrombie and Fitch to secure their future customer base.

Indeed, this child is far too spectacular to be the authentic fruit of my womb. But I’m proud of her, and I love her as if she were a chip off the ol’ ovary. {Oh, and if you’re wondering what happened to all the left over ugly fetuses…I’m not sure, but I think the government recycled most of them into cattle feed, although I did hear of some going on to be used in some innovative new research and development in the health and beauty field, quite possibly extracting the collagen and other vital tissues to make some really kick ass lip-plumpers and wrinkle-fillers for the rich and celebutized. Which is great, if you think of it, because it’s using something that once would have been ugly, and using it to make something pretty and tolerable to the mutton-headed masses! Hoo-ray!

Great New Recipe Idea!

While we’re on the subject of food, and since I’m a bonafide chef myself (LOL! Ok, I can’t make that claim with a straight face, not even sarcastically)…well, I mean, since I work close to chefs, and do manage to absorb some of their outstanding food knowledge via osmosis {and also by rubbing some of the dishes into my skin, much like a salve. Sssshh, don’t tell, they may think it’s weird and revoke my Food Handler’s Permit) I figure I may as well add a cooking segment to my regular line-up of blog topics, so I can share my vast and profound love of all things edible with you all. After, no better way to unite friends and family than via the stomach, right? {And especially stomach lining…cause after all, everybody loves menudo! No silly, not the all-mexican boy band! Tripe, dorkus! Tripe!}

So today, I’m going to start by sharing with you a long-forgotten favorite of mine, but I’m going to show you how to prepare it with a chic new twist that’s really gonna knock the socks off your friends and family the next time you entertain. This will the first installment in my Cooking With Canned Meats series, as most of you know my affection for processed and potted meat products, not only for their superior texture and complex flavor profile, but also because they are non-perishable and we should all have a pantry full of these deliciously salty lifesavers on hand to get us by in case of a terrorist attack or if the big one hits. You think it can’t happen? You just wait and see what happens once that Barack Obama gets elected into the oval office! You’ll wish you’d stocked up on all that Spam when it was on sale during Spring Dollar Days at Albertson’s! 10 cans for $One Dollar!$ Only a damn fool would pass up a deal like that. Anyways, I’d advise you to print these handy recipes out and paste them onto convenient 3X5 index cards and keep them in a safe spot in your kitchen, because come election day, trust me, you’re gonna need them.

Ok, I’d like to introduce to you a favorite, but oft-forgotten member of the canned meat family. Some of you may not be familiar, or may have in the past even been a little frightened of this little fella, but I want to take this opportunity to ease those fears and encourage you to have an open mind. We’re about to embark on a culinary adventure that’s sure to surprise your tastebuds and leave you scratching your head, wondering why you were such a scared little sissy pants to begin with. So with no further adue, I’d like to bring out the delectible and delightful Ye Olde Oak Brand Lunch Tongue.

Now, Ye Olde Oak is my personal choice because of it’s long standing history of quality, but some of you may have a hard time finding it in stores, as it is a UK import. So, if Ye Olde Oak cannot be found, you can always substitute Tom Piper tongues in a pinch.

Now, do be aware that Tom Piper is not 100% pure beef tongue, like Ye Olde Oak, so you’re going to detect some lamb in there, and maybe some elk, antelope, llama, yak, and I think I’ve even detected a hint of dingo once or twice. The nice thing though, is although you would expect a gamier taste, it is surprisingly mild, with possesses a richness and complexity in character that straight beef tongue just really doesn’t have. So choose which ever one is most pleasing to you.

Alright, now that our secret ingredient has been unveiled, it’s onto the recipe of the day. We are going to be making a luscious Lunch Tongue and Fois Gras Terrine served with a refreshing Pomegranate Chardonnay Jelly. It’s an elegant and refined take on a popular french favorite that your family is sure to love, and bonus! it takes great smeared on a triscuit.

LUNCH TONGUE AND FOIS GRAS TERRINE

12 cans lunch tongue, pureed

1/2 (approx. .75lbs) duck or goose liver/fois gras, cleaned and deveined (or leave the veins in, if you want more texture)

3 tsp. juice of pickled pigs feet

1 cup finely diced shallots

1 packet Lipton Onion Soup mix (this shit makes EVERYTHING taste good!)

Enough bacon strips to line loaf pan

Terrine dish or loaf pan, 5-6 cup capacity

Preheat oven to 200°F and line a small roasting pan with a folded kitchen towel or 6 layers of paper towels (this provides insulation so bottom of terrine won’t cook too quickly).

Sprinkle each lobe and any loose pieces of foie gras on both sides with halh of your pack of Lipton Onion Soup Mix. Sprinkle remaining mix into lunch tongue puree, mix well. Line the bottom and sides of terrine dish with bacon strips, be careful not to overlap.(Also, do not snack on any remaining leftover pieces of raw bacon, no matter how tempted you may be. I got really sick doing that one time.) Next,firmly press large lobe of foie gras, smooth side down, into bottom. (Wedge any loose pieces of foie gras into terrine to make lobe fit snugly.) Sprinkle with diced onions. Now, slather the lunch tongue mixture into terrine and firmly press down to create a flat surface and snug fit. Sprinkle with remaining diced onions. Cover surface with plastic wrap, then cover terrine with lid or foil.

Put terrine (with plastic wrap and lid) in roasting pan and fill roasting pan with enough hot water to reach halfway up side of terrine. Bake in middle of oven until an instant-read thermometer inserted diagonally into center of foie gras registers 120°F, 1 to 1 1/2 hours, or 160°F (for USDA standards), about 3 1/2 hours.

Remove terrine from pan. Discard water and remove towel. Return terrine to roasting pan and remove lid. Put wrapped cardboard directly on surface of terrine and set a weight on cardboard (this will force fat to surface; don’t worry if fat overflows). Let stand at room temperature 20 minutes.

Remove weight and cardboard and spoon any fat that has dripped over side of terrine back onto top (fat will seal terrine). Chill, covered, until solid, at least 1 day.

Unmold foie gras by running a hot knife around edge. Invert onto a plate and reinvert, fat side up, onto serving dish. Cut into slices with a heated sharp knife, serve with Pomegranate Chardonnay Jelly (see below)

POMEGRANATE CHARDONNAY JELLY

3 1/2 cups chardonnay (try to use the good stuff for the best flavor, save your Boone’s Farm for the after dinner party)

1/2 cup fresh pomegranate juice

1 (2 ounce) package dry pectin

4 1/2 cups white sugar

1. Combine wine, lemon juice, and pectin in a large saucepot. Bring to a boil, stirring frequently. Add sugar, stirring until dissolved. Return to a rolling boil. Boil hard 1 minute, stirring constantly. Remove from heat. Skim foam off top, if necessary.
2. Ladle hot jelly into hot, sterilized jars, leaving 1/2 inch headspace. Tighten 2 piece lids. Process for 5 minutes in boiling water bath.

***** On-The-Go Ho’s tip: If pinched for time, a shortcut solution of a half jug of wine to 1 pack cherry jello works just as well.Just tell em it’s pomegranate, they’ll never know the difference!*****

Bon Appetit!

Lord, Why Am I Such A Damn Slob?

Hey, ya’ll like the latest shot I added to my portfolio? I don’t know, I’m just not as pasty and bloated in this one, I don’t know if I’m comfortable with it. I asked the makeup girl to go a little lighter with the bronzer, but she just kept puffing my face shouting, “Miami! Miami! Miami!” I guess she’s trying to get me ready for all those bikini shoots I have scheduled down in South Beach. Which reminds me, I hope those custom snakeskin thongs I ordered are ready, I sure have been looking forward to them. And man, I think I need to grab some more root touch up while I’m on my frozen burrito/gatorade run to Rite Aid. Didn’t realize I was showing so much gray!

All my life, I have had a bit of a problem in the slob department.  The problem seems to stem from the fact that I am a slob. I have tried many times over the course of my life to rectify and cure myself of this sloppiness, but every time I try to clean up and get myself organized, I just get distracted, bored, or just plain fall asleep.

I can tell it’s starting to grate on my boyfriend’s nerves, he shows it in all these really funny passive aggressive ways, like calling me names under his breath while taking the teetering tower of Diet Coke cans I piled so delicately and skillfully out to recycling (Doode! It’s Modern Art!), cursing as he trips over the 12 pairs of heels strewn about the living room floor (Honey, they’re part of my new workout routine called Hopscotch Hurdles. You’re supposed to jump over them! Now, don’t be a spoilsport, just do it, hop! it’s good for your heart) and tossing the 118 months of back issues of CatFancy I had loving accumulated even though I don’t own a cat out the window in a fit of fury (Hey! I WAS SAVING THOSE FOR A REASON!!!!!). I don’t get what his problem is. It’s not like a months accumulation of Qtips encrusted in earwax is a health concern or anything. Sheesh, lighten up. I try to make the trash can, sometimes, I just miss and forget about them. You’re not perfect either,you know.

I’ve been this way all my life, although I’m not sure why. Maybe it does stem from Mama, she was a bit of a packrat. She used to keep EVERYTHING, and I mean EVERYTHING. Instead of buying me toys, she used to give me bags of her old prescription pill bottles and empty Afrin Nose Sprays to play with. Which was kinda fun, all my dollies were so healthy and always had the cleanest nasal passages! I remember one time when I was in high school, my friend Jarrod was over and he started going through this drawer of random shit in our den, and he pulls out this bottle filled with what appeared to be maybe rocks of some form or another, or perhaps some miscellaneous car parts leftover from a tune up, and asks me what exactly they were. Upon closer inspection, I realized that those had been Mama’s leftover teeth from when she had them pulled and gotten her dentures.

Why she was saving them, I could only imagine. Maybe she thought they were heirlooms, and wanted to pass them down to me as part of her legacy. I imagine that’s probably the only thing she’d leave me in her will.

If you were to peer into my room as a little girl, and didn’t know who lived in it, you would most likely have concluded that this was a crawling hole for a schizophrenic rat from the land of H.R. Puffinstuff, or wondered if Sanford and Sons had expanded their business by opening a shop out on Sesame Street. (Did you guys miss that episode?) The floor just always seemed like a logical place to store things. It’s not like I used the floor to actually walk around on or anything, so I needed all my key items piled up close to me where I could reach them without breaking a sweat.

Every year at school, I would start out so resolute, with all my nice new folders and dividers, determined to make this year the best year ever! and transform myself into this UBER-organized autotron, consistently and effortlessly filing every scrap of schoolwork neatly into its rightfully designated place. “I will be organized this year!” I would chant to myself. “I will be successful! I’m going to pay attention and make good grades and be the best little Aldine Senior High School Student, EVER!”

And then, I’d get a crush on some stupid boy who had no idea I existed and would have screamed in terror if he had have known I existed, and daydream about having sex with him all day long, even though I had never had sex or even been kissed, but -I had read a lot about it in Cosmopolitan and those Penthouse Forums my dad used to sell at his grocery store, and so I had a pretty good idea what it was all about. {editor’s note-evil grin right here}Needless to say, although my mind was focused on biology, it wasn’t exactly the type that would get me a passing grade, and I became easily frustrated, and not just sexually….I just started cramming papers wherever, whenever I bothered to even to the work, and by the middle of the semester my locker looked like I must have been studying up hard for Bag Lady 101 or maybe Advanced Theorums In Hoboitry. In fact, my senior year, I was voted Most Likely To Reside Out The Cardboard Recycling by a panel of my teachers and counselors. I love awards, so I was pretty stoked to have been recognized.

But you know, it does get a little old struggling with the same old self-defeating habits, and I guess it would be nice to maybe wake up and not think, “Damn girl, you smell like foot”. I have been trying harder to change lately, but it’s one hell of a process. Every day, I pray soooooo hard, “Pleeeeeeaaase God! Make me a Type A personality. Even just for a day. PLEASE!” And everyday, I’m lucky if I come up a Type B-. It’s just really hard when you have a hard time paying attention, and your mind wanders, and you can’t ever finish what you sta