On feeling better about myself.

Every once in a while, after a long day of doing something new, I'll be called upon to pull out a skill I haven't used in years.

And I'll think to myself, "Damn, glad to see I've still got that, at least."

It's important to do things you're good at now and again to remind yourself that you don't suck.

Remember that. Because it's such a simple thing to forget.

Recipe break. Balls.

Meatballs.

I mean, really, I don't need to say much more than that, do I? My recipe is loosely based on Alton Brown's (and by loosely, I mean his ratios are what I roll with); I've found the man's proportions to be pretty solid. But again, meatballs are one of those things that was born of necessity - they were created to use up scraps of meat and to bulk them to feed a crowd. So really, anything goes.

That being said, this is how I usually do:

For every 1.5 lbs. of ground meat (be it beef, pork, veal, turkey, whatever), I use:
3 eggs
1/2 c. bread crumbs (I make my own, but you can use anything from panko to just pulverized leftover bread)
Some kind of milk (I've got half and half in my fridge for coffee at all times, so I use that)
~5 oz. spinach (cooked, drained, chopped. You'll note that that's half a box of frozen spinach, of course - I've used everything from Swiss chard to kale here, too. Just cook it and chop it fine) (And when I say drained, I mean wrap that shit up in a couple of layers of paper towel and actually squeeze the liquid out. Don't be lazy.)
1/2 c. grated hard Italian cheese (Parm, Romano, whatever the fuck)
Soy sauce and Worcestershire to taste
Pepper, dried herbs and spices (parsley, thyme, sage, oregano, red pepper, whatever)
Maybe like one small onion, chopped fine and sweated
However the fuck amount of garlic you want, also chopped fine and sweated

Really, the only tricky thing here is the panade, which is when you dump the bread crumbs into the big-ass bowl you'll be mixing everything in first, then add enough milk to make a thick paste. What happens here is the fats in the milk soak into the starches of the bread crumbs, trapping them within the starch molecules so that the tasty fatty mouth feel is distributed evenly throughout the balls rather than running all over the damn place when you cook 'em. Before you add anything else, let that sit until all the milkstuff is absorbed into the breadstuff.

Then add the eggs, and with your hand, moosh everything together until it's evenly mixed. Then dump everything else in and mix it with your hands until just incorporated. I say 'just incorporated' because the more you beat the shit out of the proteins in the meat, the more springy and tough they get. So try not to mash everything around any more than you really have to.

Here comes the fun part, the one that most home cooks pass up, hoping they can just skate on the recipe and everything will turn out great. Heat up a small pan with a dab of oil, pinch off a little of your meatball mix, and cook up a little test patty.

THEN FUCKING TASTE IT TO SEE IF IT'S GOOD OR NOT.

If it is, great. If not, add more shit to it and repeat the process until the test patty tastes like how you want your meatballs to taste. Jesus, you people and your not tasting shit as you make it. If you wait until the end, how will you know it's good?

Is your mix good? Awesome. It's time to portion them out. Now, since the mix is uniform in density (because you mixed it properly, right?), you can do this step by weight or by volume. Me, I use an old 1 fl. oz. ice cream scoop I inherited from my folks, so it's both utilitarian AND nostalgic. You, use whatever you want. Doesn't really matter on size so long as they're all the same. (Don't be an asshole and try to make 6 oz. meatballs. Or if you do, stuff them with something like rice or proscuitto so you don't have raw meat on the inside and burnt-ass shit on the out.) Portion them out onto a sheet tray lined with parchment first, then once you've got everything measured, go back and roll them into balls. Trust me, it's faster this way.

Here, you can try an optional step for funsies. Remember when I said working proteins makes them tough? I like to slap the balls between my hands a little before I roll them so the exterior gets tough and holds its shape in the oven. Again, totally optional.

Once everything's all portioned out and rolled, fire up your oven to 400 degrees and bake them until they're done. For my oven and my portion scoop, that means about 25 minutes until the balls are cooked all the way through. For you, that'll vary on how good your oven is and how big you made your balls. Figure it out. Cut one open after 20 minutes, see what's up.

And that's that. Seeing as how this is a somewhat involved process, I'd recommend making around 3 lbs. of meat's worth of balls at a batch, using what you need for dinner, then freezing the rest on sheet trays until frozen, then putting them in a labeled gallon-sized Ziploc for future use. That way, you can just simmer a few in sauce until they're hot or pop them in the microwave the next time you want meatballs.

And let me tell you - meatballs on demand is a beautiful, beautiful thing.

Out.

(mic drop)

On scheduling issues.

So I got a promotion. Also, I've been making a point to hang out in the real world a little more often. And I've come to an unshakable conclusion.

I don't know how you fuckers do this.

I am wiped the fuck out right now. I've got a stage to set in a fictional world that people have been waiting for weeks for. I've got friendships on Facebook I need to review, Twitter followers I need to follow back. An ever-growing sea of BiSC blogs to read. Comments to look over and reply to.

One of my favorite bloggers is calling it quits, and I should have all the feels, but I haven't had the goddamn chance to read it yet. I'm out of socks. The garbage should probably get taken out. I need to cook off that kale before it gets all squidgy on me. I'm only three episodes deep on the new Arrested Development. I have a pot roast in the fridge, and I'm so tired I can't be bothered to heat it up. (I ordered a pizza.)

How in the flying fuck do you people actually DO shit? I can't even imagine what I'd do if I were actually seeing someone. The cats wouldn't get fed, and they'd eat my face in the night.

On tribes.

For a while, I was feeling a little lonely. After all, here in Philly, I was adrift of my primary tribe, that batch of maniacs from Rutgers I'm proud to call my friends. The majority of them still reside in NYC, and ever since I'd left, I've been missing them.

But time passes, and things change. And spending time with my oldest friend down the street and his marvelous girlfriend is opening conversations and doors. My street is rife with grillers and distillers with adorable children and a penchant for swinging by for backyard cocktails. And my coworkers are a beautiful mishmash of iconoclasts and misfits bound together in shared experience and coffee.

And there's you. Whether you're BiSCuits or just internetters, whether I want to or not, I'm a part of this, too. Like the creepy uncle hanging out in the corner at family reunions, I'm there.

Anyway. Long story short, I may be lonely from time to time, but I know full well that I'm never really alone.

So thank you.

All of you.

On Memorial Day Weekend.

Funny how a singular arbitrary holiday can change so much. It's Memorial Day Weekend here in the States, a long weekend marked by grilling and trips to the shore. The unofficial start of the summer, when everyone shakes off the winter drearies and spring rains and starts hitting the road. Calendars swell with events, from trips to the Hamptons to music festivals to outdoor weddings. We come alive.

Hot on the heels of BiSC, I decided to get out of the house more. This is a reasonably big deal for me; I'm a hermit, a creature of habit, and someone who really enjoys being alone in my home with video games and cats. Daylight and social activity aren't really my bag.

But there are people out there. People I shouldn't just communicate via text or Gchat with, people I should see face to face, hug, and listen to their actual voices.

I told myself that if I didn't have to work, I'd just travel. Visit my tribes, old and new, near and far, and eat my way through their cities. So maybe I'll stick my toe in the water and see how that goes for me.

Cheers, guys. I'll see you 'round. Here on the internet or face to face, I'll see you 'round.

On traveling.

So I just signed on to be in NYC twice in one week, both times for less than 24 hours. Does this mean Brooklyn's now just a daytrip for me?

I mean, I'm not really complaining. This is the price I pay for being more social. Or just less of a gigantic lazy ass.

On innocent mistakes.

So I gave my number to someone I'm pretty sure I shouldn't have given my number to.

Now I have to figure out how to tell a really sweet old gay guy that I'm not interested.

(sigh) I thought I got all this out of my system when I lived in NYC.

On travel-eating.

I was reminded lately how much I enjoy traveling. I know this isn't really a groundbreaking statement; lots of people like to travel, and I'm pretty sure I've stated in the past that I enjoy it. But I'm still totally in rest and recovery mode, and I don't feel like going out of my comfort zone yet, so suck it.

Ever since food turned from hobby to career (though it's arguably not really my career anymore), I've gotten into the habit of eating my way through cities - identifying where the best eats are in a new burg and making it a point to experience them. And never ever ever is there ever enough time to hit them all. It's maddening, really. I love food, I love how the region dictates the cuisine. I love how some cities take pride in some of the most basic things (I still have daydreams of Art of Pizza's deep dish in Chicago) or how places like Vegas can have zero regional cuisine outside of big-name chefs and touristy crap.

So this is my solemn vow. If I'm lucky/blessed enough to make my millions, I'm going out there to eat as much of this world as I can. And I'm going to blog about it, so you, my dear readers, can join me.

Not that I'll be saying anything intelligible about any of it, I'm sure. Just pictures with captions like "OM NOM MOTHERFUCKERS". Because that's how I roll.

On a normal amount of tired.

This is one of those posts that's just here to say I blogged most of the days of this year. Not that there's nothing of significance going on, not that I don't have ideas I'd like to flesh out and discuss, but I'm just tired.

And not even an emotional hangover tired or post-vacation tired or early shift tired. Just a normal human tired for a normal human hump day evening.

Feels good to get back to normal. Sometimes I forget my life's pretty damn pleasant. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to eat pizza, do some light food prep, and watch TV. Because that's what I do with my evenings on normal days.

On what the fuck just happened to us (I think).

(It should be noted that just today, Lauren and I had a laugh over how much of a scientist I turn into when left to my own devices. So really, this post is her fault.)

As Dom was quick to point out (and this is what got me thinking about this today), there was a fairly consistent theme in the farewell speeches on BiSC's final brunch - that people's lives were changed, that unlikely bonds were forged in the crucible of debauchery, and so on and so forth. It was heartwarming to watch; there was a veritable glow that ensconced the room, a magnified form of the pervasive safeness that colored the event.

And as I sat back, smiling and clapping, I couldn't help but think - This is statistically improbable. Seventy widely disparate near-strangers should not be able to simultaneously relax their guards and intermesh so seamlessly in such a short span of time. This many people should not have felt a life-changing stir within them. And yet, it happened. Why? It couldn't have just been that everyone there was amazing (though we most certainly were); with an open registration, certainly some bad apples could have gotten into the bag. No, it had to be more than just the people involved.

So what else was there? The setting, certainly; I spoke yesterday on the effect the city of Las Vegas has on a person, on the schism that occurs between one's present and one's past and future. And yet even that wasn't enough to explain the phenomenon I observed. No, the event itself, in conjunction with the locale and the attendees, that managed to pull this ridiculous feat off.

Pursuant to Maslow's hierarchy of needs, it could be assumed that most BiSCuits had at least the first tier (physiological needs) down, while the second tier (security needs) was a little iffy. The magic of the event itself was in some of its most unglamorous features - organized dinners and activities that absorbed a significant amount of the guesswork out of our days. We would eat at this time, meet up at this time at this location to do this thing. Our first tier was automatically fulfilled, our second obviated by the fucklessness Vegas itself inspires.

And with our everyday anxieties and worries stashed safely away, we were free to kick things off at the third tier from the start. It might seem like a subtle detail, but its impact can be seen in how we're all still charged by the unity we found. The fact is, walking into that registration room, we weren't worried about rent or feeding the cat or the deadline on that project. All we wanted to do was to connect with people. And since we'd all registered months in advance, even this data pool was carefully controlled - we didn't know each other, but we knew of each other. Enough to know that we were safe, despite the electricity of facing the unknown.

So what it comes down to is that this weekend was essentially seventy or so friendships put on the fast track. Each niggling worry that was removed from our shoulders freed up that much more of our hearts. We sought kinship; it wasn't long before that kinship became respect not just for our compatriots, but for ourselves as well. And from there, self-actualization, the true budding and growth of our selves, was inevitable.

At least, that's my theory, anyway.

On Las Vegas.

It should be reasonably obvious by now that I've been in Vegas for the last few days for BiSC. Now, it's been a while since I was last here, and even then, I was broke and traveling with my family. So it's safe to say that this time around was with a fresh set of eyes.

This town is hilarious.

It's an incredible departure from reality. Everything about the tourist experience here is designed to extract you from your everyday life and inject you into something so radically different that you have no choice but to be sucked into the vortex of light and sound, where they proceed to spin you so fast that the money just flies out of your pockets. It's a truly elegant system, from the ricockulous ATM fees in place to obliterate moderation to the labyrinthine halls of the casinos and shops created to trap you.

And the psychology goes deeper. By prying you away from your sensibilities so forcibly and completely and hurling you, kicking and screaming, into the shiny, shiny void, it encourages degrees of debauchery and excess that most cannot resist much less believe was deep inside of them.

It's rare - no, it's unique - to see a town designed like this. It's one of my favorite expressions of artifice and manipulation, to create an illusion so complete that even the disgruntled employees who see the streams of tourists ebb and flow through it can't crack the facade.

Farewell, Vegas, you sweet, beautiful Charybdis, you.

To my fellow BiSCuits.

Hi.

I'm not the kind of guy who gets in the thick of things. I hang back; I watch, observe, and absorb. It's just the kind of person I am. It's just what I do.

Today, at our farewell brunch, Simone called us a tribe. And what a tribe we are; spanning the world, rising from all walks of life, bringing together Berto's sophistication and Brandy's raw honesty, Bradley's sullen charm and Casey's radiant exuberance, Dominique's fire and Kitty's tranquility. Binding ourselves to each other with eight-second hugs and laughter and dancing and terrible decisions.

We are the Bloggers in Sin City. We are people of words, each with a story to tell, each with our powerful voices to tell them. Each unique, each unified by one solitary fact: we were there.

What do you want me to say to you? That you are all beautiful and brilliant, that you are a grade of humanity above so many? Because I can, you know. I have watched you, listened to you. I know the greatness in each of you. But I don't have to tell you this, do I?

Because you already know.

You were there.

-R

On the future.

I've said it before, I'll say it again. The future is the tits.

I'm writing this blog post at 30,000 feet, on my way to a bloggers' conference in Vegas. Wifi on planes is apparently a thing now.

It's funny. In my childhood, the internet wasn't even really a thing. Over the span of my life, we've developed this ridiculous resource that is steadily becoming available anywhere on, under, and above the planet. My generation likes to kvetch jokingly about flying cars, but having the majority of the entire world's knowledge on tap? I'll take this over flying cars any day of the week.

I mean, I'd still take flying cars. But I wouldn't give up the internet for it.

Cheers, bitches. Next you hear from me, I'll be tearing shit up in Sin City. Godspeed until then.

On a choice.

I've already posted this link, acquired from Kitty, to both Facebook and Twitter. I believe it's worth posting here, too.

This is Water.

I could say more, but it speaks for itself.

This is a choice. A choice I try to make, a choice someone very dear to me has made this last year all about. And I have watched her fight her way, every single day, out of the darkness.

You know who you are. I couldn't be more proud of you.

On arugula and choice.

I know, I'm beating a dead horse about this growing shit business, but I just went out back, trimmed off a row of arugula, and crammed it into a baguette with various other sandwichy things. And it was fucking delicious.

How much do we pay for convenience? This was probably around $2 worth of arugula I just pulled up from the ground, washed, and ate. On top of the gas I'd use getting to the store and the time spent shopping for it. The cost to me was the price of the seeds (generously donated by my compatriot) and a few weeks of watering. And I've got LOTS more where that came from.

How much do we spend because we need to have something specific right that instant? Do we even think about the cost of these things versus the time investment spent in growing our own food? There's even middle grounds in the forms of CSA programs this time of year - I subscribe to a produce delivery program that fills my organic vegetable requirement for $25 every two weeks. How does that compare to what I'd spend if I picked and chose everything I ate rather than rolling with what I get in the box?

I eat well for the amount of money I spend because of my willingness to work with variables, something I've taken to heart ever since Pavel spoke to me of the value in a varied diet. I'm starting to wonder why more people don't do the same.

On a moment of silence for Mother's Day.

 

On the things we don't say.

There are things, thoughts that run through our head that we don't talk about. I know it's hard to believe in this day and age, but I can think of plenty of things that have run through my head that I would very likely talk about with absolutely no one.

And the reasons are myriad. Sometimes the topics are gross or very privately sexual. Sometimes it's just a feeling that might be embarrassing to admit. Of course, there's a place and time for everything, but is that really true?

And at what cost do we hold our tongues? How many marriages fall apart because of an unspoken kink that goes unfulfilled? How many people live in ignorance of a broken heart or silent terror? I would trade every talk I've had with my parents about puberty and sex for one 15-second warning about sharting.

Obviously, this has been something that's been happening since the dawn of civilization, but it's still something that lingers on the mind every time I see someone. Because everyone, everyone has a secret that they'll take to the grave. And I wonder how much of our history is lost to that.

On being sick and priorities.

In the throes of what feels like someone filling my sinuses with the interior of a cantaloupe (or musk melon, if you must be technical) and a cough that seems to want to rip my lungs out with the vigor of a Londonite werewolf, it's interesting to see where my priorities lie. You know, which things I keep doing, and which things I simply run out of fucks to give over.

Personal hygiene goes right out the window, apparently, with the notable exception of work. For work, I'm showered and clean, with a heightened awareness of where my hands are at any time. Handwashing goes up 100-150%, even from my usual compulsive behavior.

Writing can go fuck itself. I'm actually backdating this one because yesterday I remembered that I had to blog that day and actively said "Fuck it.". I feel bad for the folks I'm holding up in my FFRPG, but not nearly bad enough to sit in front of a computer and write.

Cooking can suck it, too. I've got pounds of fresh organic vegetables in my crisper drawers that are begging to be consumed, and I can't be fucking bothered to even apologize to them every time I open the fridge to pull out the pot of black beans I made just before I got sick or the BLT I picked up on the way home today. I'm just going to have to cross my fingers and hope they're still viable in a couple of days.

Don't even get me started on dishes or laundry. I know I haven't.

I guess I shouldn't be surprised, really. In times of limited resources (in this case, energy and motivation), we are creatures of necessity. We hunker down and do what we're capable of with the resources we have.

For me, that means lying on the couch and groaning while Zevran insistently drops a wadded-up paper towel in front of me so he can play fetch. So if you'll pardon me.

On ill-timed spring colds.

Really, body? Now? Less than a week before I leave for BiSC, on the day I have a doctor's appointment? You couldn't get sick last week, when I had two days off in a row?

Up yours, body.

I think the worst part about it is that I'm trying to "take it easy" (what the fuck does that even mean? I do almost nothing already; am I just supposed to come to a complete stop?), and I'm staring at the dishes and glaring at the fucking ants and looking at the list of shit I need to get in order for Vegas and I don't the fucking time for this bullshit, body.

So instead of "taking it easy", I'm sitting on my couch stressing the fuck out, trying to imagine what I could eat that wouldn't be detrimental to my condition.

Fuck this shit.

On random facts about me.

So while stumbling around aimlessly on the interwebs this morning, I came across this post from the lovely Eleni. She has a point; on the internet, through texts and posts and even tweets and status updates, the finer points of a person, the little details that make someone really and truly themselves, often get lost in the grandiloquent bloggery or the stream of cat pictures.

And it got me thinking about my own little foibles, how a lot of my habits will never see the light of day until I sucker some poor, unfortunate creature into living with me again. And of course, I'm going to share them with you.

- If I start watching something, be it an episode of TV or a movie, it is extremely difficult for me to stop partway through, even if I've seen it a million times before. As a result, I don't watch a lot of movies because I'm constantly afraid of the time commitment.

- If I'm watching something for the first time and I'm alone, I will almost constantly stop and rewind to catch things I missed. I say when I'm alone because out of courtesy, I'll try to wrestle this compulsion under control when I'm with other people to keep them from stabbing me. Poor Lisa had to deal with this on my first watchthrough of Doctor Who.

- I do the same thing while reading, doubling back and rereading passages to soak up the details as best I can.

- If I am eating something while watching TV on Netflix and the episode finishes before I am done eating, I have to start the next episode and watch it all the way through.

- I like hardwood floors because they tell my feet when they're dirty. If I lived somewhere with wall-to-wall, the floors would likely be fucking revolting.

- When I get a song stuck in my head, it's there for weeks, sometimes months. This means I'm listening to it every chance I get, singing it to myself at work, and envisioning various movie scenes set to it while daydreaming. This fixation periodically extends to other things, like eating fried chicken for six meals in a row.

- Quantities in prime numbers after 7 make me uncomfortable, despite the fact that my lucky number is 17. I like things to be easily divisible.

- I sleep on the left side of the bed, with my head covered and my feet out from under the blankets. I will use the same comforter until it falls apart; I've had my current one for almost a decade. The smell comforts me.

- Rare is the instance where I will empty the dishwasher before it's time to do dishes again.

- Unless I'm watching TV, playing video games, or doing any sort of creative writing, I rarely sit in my home. Even now, my laptop is sitting on my printer on my wine cabinet, and I'm typing this standing up.

- I am fascinated by mechanics. Sometimes I will watch my cats as they meander around the house, studying their muscle groups in sequence as they walk. This fascination extends to projectile physics, which is why I play a lot of trashcan basketball and flip things in my hands.

- I can't listen to music with lyrics while I write; I start seeing the lyrics in my head and it prevents me from composing sentences of my own words and patterns. I can't listen to music while I read, either, for the same reason.

- I practice having conversations. I study the habits and speech patterns of the people in my life, extrapolate likely subject material, home in on specific things they will probably say, and rehearse witty responses to them, complete with hand gestures and facial expressions.

Well, that's all I feel like coming up with for now. See y'all around; I'm going to go get ready for work. Keeping my fingers crossed for a quiet day - Lordy, do I love me some thunderstorms.

On pride.

Ego, pride, self-esteem - these are delicate things, fragile things, things whose absence is keenly felt. We always want to feel that we are the best at something, that we are worthwhile human beings.

Problem is, there's a lot of competition out there. Me, I hinge my self-worth on the assurance that though I will never be truly exceptional at any one thing, rare will be the person who is better than I am at all the skills I am adept in. Someone will be a better cook, but I will be the better writer. Someone will be faster than I am at the register, but they won't rock the fake plastic guitar like I do.

It's the little things that keep us afloat. The things that keep our heads up. Find yours. Be limber. Get there.

On a funny habit.

This used to drive the Ness nuts. But every time I start a fresh playthrough in a game that allows you to customize your character, I go through somewhere between two and ten false starts. What kills me is that it doesn't matter if I've played the game before.

I beat DA2 something like four or five times, and I'm going for one more playthrough to polish off the DLC. And only now, after about fifteen hours of just fucking around, have I finally settled on the class (mage) and romance option (Isabela) I want to take.

Anyway. Fascinating stuff, I know. I'm sure it can be extrapolated into my personality, how I need to examine a situation from all angles before making a decision; how, after years of practice, I can do so fairly rapidly, making it seem like I make decisions rashly. Or maybe it just speaks to the completionist compulsion in me.

Who cares, really? I want tacos. See you later, guys.

On a quick, but forceful and keenly-felt thought.

I fucking hate ants.

I hate that they're all up in my shit in the laundry room, I hate that they swarm all over the cat food, I hate that the measures I've taken to try to fend them off have proven to be nauseatingly odorous and frustratingly ineffective.

Suck it, ants. Go fuck yourselves.

On doing nothing today.

So today, I had set for myself two very simple tasks. And after a workday and a nap, I decided to do neither of them. In fact, I decided to eschew my leftovers in favor of a pizza, too.

I feel no pride in this, nor any self-disgust. It is simply what's happening to me tonight, and I will compensate for it in the coming days accordingly.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have a very serious amount of loafing to do.

On cooking for the office life, part 2.

Now yesterday, I covered the basics in terms of foodstuffs that actually require active work to prepare and cook. These, by no means, should be the only materials you work with. There are a host of greens that should come into play here - arugula and baby spinach, spring mix, etc. - and again, the principle of 'mix it up' should apply. Find what you like and roll with it.

As for other raw ingredients, they are legion: cucumbers, tomatoes, scallions, all things you can slice down a pile of and stash in a tupperware in your fridge for easy deployment. I'd keep your selection to around three at any time just so they don't go bad on you. Raw veggies have wildly variable lifespans, so keep an eye on them.

So you've got food now. What do you do with it?

Grain Salads

Grain salads make for an easy starch-and-veg side to work with. Just cook off some kind of grain (quinoa, couscous, brown rice, whatever) according to the directions on the box (as a Chef Instructor once told me, they want you to eat their product; their directions are usually good), add dressing to taste, season with salt and pepper to taste. Then mix in whatever the fuck you want. Roasted vegetables, raw ingredients mentioned earlier, crushed nuts (tee hee) of your liking - it's all good. Eye this out into a resealable container in portions you think you'd like to eat for lunch, add around 4 oz. of the sliced protein of your choice, et voila, you have a lunch you can snag from the fridge on the way out the door and eat at your desk.

Wraps

Pavel: "People tend to hate wraps because pre-made ones are the pits. But it's fun as heck to play with combinations. I grill off three or four chicken breasts and then slice them. Then I'll add arugula/baby spinach/spring mix and some accents. Guacamole (not a shitload), pico, and scallions; enchilada sauce, jalapenos, scallions and Queso Fresco; cucumbers and gyro sauce; and so on. These can also all be tacos on corn tortillas or low carb wraps.

"I always pair these these with a big pile of lightly dressed greens because I want to feel like eating a lot of food, but that's at [your] discretion. [You] can cram-a-lam a lot into a big-ass wrap instead."

Pretty much this. This seems like a good time to bring up the idea of shredded cheese, too - at home, I always shred a block of cheese down and keep it in a quart container for easy access. Pre-shredded cheese is usually made from scraps and has all kinds of anti-coagulants in there that I'm not too comfortable consuming on a regular basis.

Also, Pavel's mention of tzatziki reminds me of something. Plain yogurt is fantastic for when you want something creamy and flavorful without cramming a wad of sour cream in you. Plus the addition of a little honey, fruit, and granola make for a pretty decent breakfast.

Quiche/Frittatas

Pavel: "This is really frou-frou, but making a big-ass quiche is awesome for lunches. Bring a wedge and a frisee salad and you're good for four or more days."

Quiche is way easier than you think it is. Just grab a 9" frozen pie crust from your supermarket, whisk together two eggs, about a cup of half-and-half, and a heavy pinch of salt in a bowl, and you're ready to roll.

Preheat your oven to 350. Fill your crust with your fillings (don't overfill, it'll mess with the cooking of the custard), pour in your egg mixture, and bake until the center is set like Jell-O, maybe around 45 minutes.

As for fillings, the sky's the limit, really. Just don't use anything that's going to release too much water, as that'll mess with the aforementioned custard. Raw spinach = bad. Cooked spinach drained on a paper towel = good.

Suggestions:
Ham, scallions, and cheddar

Spinach and swiss

Roasted red pepper, asparagus, and goat cheese

Bacon, like, a lot of it

But what if you don't have a pie crust handy? No worries, just make a frittata, which is the exact same thing, but just put it in a well-buttered 8" pan instead of a crust and proceed as above.

And that's that. With any luck, this should get you on the right track to eating a little healthier on a limited time budget. I'll likely visit this subject again sometime, since this was pretty fun.

Enjoy, guys! See you tomorrow.

On cooking for the office life, part 1.

From what I understand, working the 9-to-5 puts a serious crimp in your cooking style. I've been petitioned by a dear friend for some suggestions to help with her eating habits; get more nutrition and home cooking into her diet on the regular rather than going through the day subsisting on hummus and coffee. Of course, this isn't my usual bag, so I called in a little help; this post'll be peppered liberally with Pavel's helpful hints.

So let's give this a whirl, shall we?

Basic Vinaigrette
A good vinaigrette is essential to any good salad, and knowing how to crank one out on the fly will do wonders for your budget. Storeboughts are made with cheap shit and bulked with HFCS; better to make your own, no?

1/4 c. flavorful acidic. Vinegars are the most obvious choices here - apple cider, red wine, and balsamic are popular and delicious choices, of course. If you want to use a citric acid, try going half and half with white vinegar to start - lime and lemon get pretty assertive if you go straight up.

2 tsp. emulsifying agent. Mustard is your go-to here, be it Dijon or whole-grain or Guilden's Spicy Brown. American Yellow is kind of iffy. Basically, you need something viscous to help you blend the acid and the oil together. As you get more and more adventurous, I recommend going half honey half mustard, especially with lemon.

1/2 c. oil. You can use pretty much anything here - corn, flaxseed, olive, whatever. I only recommend staying away from extra virgin olive oil because the flavor will pretty much obliterate anything in its path. Plus if you beat the shit out of it, which is likely considering the application, it starts getting bitter.

Combine these ingredients into a resealable container, like a tupperware (or better yet, a stainless steel cocktail shaker) and shake the shit out of it until all the ingredients come together. Season with salt and pepper to taste after everything comes together; you might find you'll need less salt given the acidity of the dressing.

I avoided listing any one specific acid, oil, or emulsifier here because a) they're relatively interchangable and b) if you want to keep yourself interested in your food, you have to mix shit up on the regular. If you're putting balsamic dressing on everything, you're going to get bored. And when you're bored is when you roll out for a couple of slices for lunch instead of eating what you brought.

This recipe can be scaled up and down to your heart's content. You can add all kinds of shit to it - minced garlic, thinly sliced scallions, fresh herbs, whatever you want. It's only a template for you to build off of, and experimentation is encouraged.

That being said, if this seems out of reach for you or you just want a more shelf-stable answer to this, Pavel's informed me that Trader Joe's has a really tasty organic balsamic vinaigrette on the cheap with good ingredients that rings in at something ridiculous, like 45 calories a serving. So keep that in mind.

Roasted Vegetables
We're supposed to be eating more vegetables than we are. This statement goes for something like 98% of the population; I know of maybe three people in my life who are actually eating the right amount of veggies daily, and none of them are me.

This one's pretty easy. Whether you're working with carrots or mushrooms or whatever, the process is pretty much the same. Wash your veggies, then trim them. For tubular veggies, this usually means trim both ends. For asparagus, cut off the woody stems at the base (if you're unsure of where to cut, just take one and bend it with more pressure at the stem end until it snaps. Use that one to measure out the rest of the bunch.) Cut them into bite-sized pieces (I like to split zucchini lengthwise on the y and z axes, then cut down into 1/4" pieces), toss them onto a sheet pan, drizzle with oil, season lightly, toss to coat, then drop into a 400 degree oven for 15-25 minutes. Times will vary from vegetable to vegetable, so after the first 15 minutes, taste to determine if it needs more time. You'll get the hang of it.

Proteins
Chicken is going to be your obvious choice here, be it breasts or my personal preference, thighs. Just make sure you're working with boneless/skinless if you want to make this easy on yourself. You can season this with anything you damn well please - salt and pepper being the easiest and most obvious choice, you can marinate it in Italian dressing (just pat it dry before cooking), whatever. The process will remain the same. Preheat a pan over medium heat with a Tbsp or so of oil until it shimmers, or until a droplet of water skitters off the surface. Then cook the meat for four minutes on each side and remove it to rest. After five minutes off the heat, cut it open to see if it's cooked. If it's not, then back onto the heat with it for another minute or two per side. This is a learning process; after the first couple of times, you'll know exactly how long to cook your proteins based on thickness and weight.

Incidentally, steak works well here, too. A 1/2" to 3/4" steak will net you a good medium rare at four minutes a side. Again, this'll vary depending on your cut, but practice practice practice. Once your meat is done cooking, let it cool, then slice into pieces that won't choke you.

Also, so long as you don't mainline the shit out of it, bacon's a fairly good option when it comes to prepping lunches - a little bit goes a long way flavorwise, and using it means you can cut back on the salt in your other components. Rather than go through the pain-in-the-ass process of cooking it on demand, you can fire off an entire package of bacon by lining a sheet pan (or two) with foil, laying out the slices, and baking it at 400 degrees for 15-20 minutes. Once it's cooked, drain and cool, and you can cut it into bite size pieces or crumble it for a delicious topping.

(if you really want to get fancy with it, try sprinkling said bacon with cayenne and brown sugar before it goes in the oven.)

It's important to note that all three of these things can be cooked ahead of time, prepared, and stored in the fridge for 7-10 days. Which is a good thing, because you're going to be building meals out of these components. I'll tell you how tomorrow.

On a matter of perspective.

So a darling friend of mine asked me to help her out by drawing up quick, easy meals she can prepare ahead of time and bring to work as office lunches. And I've got ideas; between my knowledge base and Pavel's sound understanding of nutrition and time constraints and his own formidable culinary skill, I've got a blog post brewing that should at least get her on the right track.

On the other hand, I'm making a meatball sub that's taking like 45 minutes in the oven to cook up, so... uh... "quick", huh?

Gonna have to reevaluate a couple of things. Pardon.