No tomatoes, please

This weekend I went to Trader Joe’s for the second time in my life, but actually shopped there for the first time ever. The first time I went, it was right after the one in Charlotte had opened (and broken fire code), and it was a friggin zoo, and my mom and I were so freaked out by the sheer amount of hippie overwhelmingness that we just kind of ran away and wrote it off as a weird store filled with generic-brand organic food.

For those not in the know, which, apparently, was just my mother and I until this weekend, Trader Joe’s is basically a private-label grocery store that sells organic and interesting foods for super cheap.

But alas, I gave it another try. I went in with an open mind and a basket, and I shopped. I looked around at everything, and I bought too much. I even got some of the infamous “three buck Chuck,” (chardonnay and shiraz) and it was delicious. So delicious, in fact, that I kind of drank most of the bottle of chardonnay and was then unable to attend a rockin’ show that I wanted to go to. Almost kind of worth it, though.

Everything we have eaten from there has been surprisingly good, and of really good quality, and it was super cheap too! The best thing ever in the world that they sell are these 1-pound bags of frozen shrimp that are huge (16-20/pound) for like, $7 per bag. Though I thought the shrimp would be tough or otherwise completely fail to meet my expectations in some way, they defrosted really quickly and were so tender and beautiful, it made me really happy that I didn’t pay much for them. I kinda feel like I got away with something there.

So, anyhow, the other night, I used the shrimp to make a super delicious dish with some frozen artichoke tortellini we also bought. I basically just cooked the pasta, and in the time it took to cook it (7 minutes), I sauteed up a bunch of garlic, quickly sauteed the shrimp and finished it all off with some white wine and lemon juice and bam, done.

It took less than 10 minutes, seriously, and probably cost less than $15 altogether, and it was really really good. We also made a killer chicken curry last night and made some frozen naan from Trader Joe’s too. Like, srsly, it was awesome. I think there’s one in New York thank Odin.

Related:

Trader Joe’s [Web site] 

They like curry so much, they’re even starting a chain of Indian food restaurants. Not the British people as a whole, of course. I mean, just some of them. How many millions of dollars do you bet that the people starting the chain are not Indian? Just a thought…

Though some people are admittedly pissed, I’m not sure how I feel about this. I mean, I’d probably eat there if I lived in Britain, at least once. For me, Indian restaurants are so hit and miss, if the food is good to begin with, the uniformity would be refreshing.

I love Indian food. I mean, no joke, I super love it. They have Indian food at the dining hall twice a week, and when I lived on campus, I ate it every day they offered it. Twice a week. All semester. And it was just as glorious every week. As long as they have some Tikka Masala action or some lentils or even chickpeas, I’m so there.

As much as I abhor sub-par chain restaurants, I’m not sure I can get behind this. The best part about family-run Indian restaurants is that they’re all different. Even the worst Indian restaurants are still infinitely more delicious than any meal I’ve ever had at Chili’s or Macaroni Grill.

Related:

Can curry chain stand the heat?: [bbc.co.uk]

Picture Credit: [King of Curries]

 Ya know what I really hate? When people pronounce Bojangles like it would be in Spanish. If If I have to hear one more frat-boy douche nozzle be like, “Hey dudes, let’s get some ‘Bo-han-gless’,” I might have to do some face-punchin’.   

So yep, when I went to New York, I made a stop by the infamous Gray’s Papaya. Well, more stumbled upon it and squealed with delight. I’ve seen this place all over the TV, and it’s famous for its lovely grilled beef hot dogs. Who needs a damn sidewalk hot dog when you can have the delicious hot dog with the snappy casing and the toasted bun and the spicy deli mustard? God, I didn’t even need any dang chili on it. They were so good and hot and beautiful, I wanted to cry. Maybe I was just really hungry.

I got this weird “Coconut Champagne” with it, and it kind of tasted like rotten pina coladas with chunks of coconut, so I threw that out, went and got a coke at the bodega right outside and walked down the street in sweet sweet hot dog contentment.

[Related] Gray’s Papaya 2090 Broadway and 72nd St. (Manhattan)

Huzzah! Today marks the arrival of my lovely new mattress! Now I don’t have to sleep on the floor anymore. I’m still eagerly awaiting the arrival of my slick Ikea bed which is sure to be a bitch and a half to put together, but will still be pretty awesome.

Seriously though, speaking of beds, I’m not sure what got me started on this tangent, but as I was deliriously driving back to Chapel Hill from Charlotte in the throes of a fever I began to think about sex + food. I think the tenuous connection in my head made more sense at the time, but I haven’t been able to stop pondering the appeal of such a thing. Now, as much as I love food, and as much as I love, uh, the idea of being sexy, I feel like those are two things that I do not want to mix.

What is undeniably sexy though, is cooking with someone or having someone cook for you. I would say that it is the best kind of foreplay (I imagine…), especially if the food is yummy. But the thought of taking the food with you to the afterward times is when I get an icky feeling. It’s kind of like that scene in 9 1/2 Weeks when Mickey Rourke is all feeding stuff to Kim Basinger and she’s all blindfolded, and he freakin feeds her a jalapeno, and she’s freaking out, and he’s all, “haha I’m abusive,” and she’s all, “gah! I’m gonna die! Let’s do it.” But I digress.

Anywho, I was truly racking my brain, trying to think of foods that are actually suitable to take into the bedroom, but I can’t think of any that don’t disgust me. There are the usual suspects, such as whipped cream and chocolate sauce, of course, but lo! The terrifying sheet-ruining, hair-sticking prospects of such things are too much for me to bear. Also, I’ve seen edible underwear, and I can’t think of a thing I’d want to eat less. You could pretty much just wrap a fruit-by-the-foot around your parts and it would probably taste better and be less likely to pull all your teeth out.

So, maybe, ice, I guess? I read in Cosmo once that that’s sexy, yeah? I might be able to get behind that one, since ice is just frozen water, and water never really hurt anyone (except that girl that was on Maury who was allergic to water. True story).

Also another pet peeve of mine is when people (ahem guys) call food sexy. There was some dude on Top Chef who used to call his dishes sexy all the time, and I just found that so obnoxious for some reason. Don’t get me wrong, food is super sexy, but it’s kind of just like if you were describing yourself, if you have to tell people you’re sexy, you probably aren’t.

Also, least sexy food = olives with stones. Nothing is less attractive than spitting out a giant olive pit into your hand or trying to spit it into something else and missing. Lame.

That is all for now. Hope I didn’t gross you out too much.

So, a whirlwind moving and a whirlwind last few weeks gave way to a whirlwind trip to New York City where I ate many awesome and delicious foods. Unfortunately, I had to leave early because I messed up my knee ice skating at Rockefeller Center (true story) and couldn’t be all walkin everywhere. I seriously can’t wait until I graduate and move to the city. I will stuff my face full of awesome food every freakin’ day. The highlight of my trip was when I had high tea at The Plaza Hotel, and it was seriously the most gorgeous, most lovely experience ever. Everyone is so helpful when you’re rich! The tea tasted as beautiful as the giant bunches of flowers (orchids holy crap) adorning all the entrance ways and hallways, and my only regret is not being able to taste all the tiny and delicious tea sandwiches and berries and scones with cream and honey and fresh butter and champagne that everyone else was munching on. Oh well, maybe next time.

I also ate some other awesome stuff, and pictures will be coming soon, once I find my stupid USB cord. I swear I’m here, and I swear I will be eating something wonderfully disgusting (upon request). I’m gonna go grab it from the freezer and defrost it right now…

Oh my god I’m here! I was so busy moving that I wasn’t able to write, and I’m so pissed. It’s a long story involving divorce, thieving, moving to Chapel Hill permanently, lack of internet for a long time, and much intrigue, and maybe some romance thrown in there for good measure. But the Time Warner guy is coming Wednesday to install some internet action, and I will be back to my regularly scheduled cooking and general awesomeness. I’ll be back with a Very Special Gag Reflex (OK, not that special, but probably disgusting). So, seriously, hang in there. And join my dang RSS feed. It’s right over there to the right somewhere. —>

So, well, I’m here, I swear. Alive and well. Not that you were paying attention. So, I took the site down for a while, assuming that myriad people were willing and/or able to help me out with my web design predicament. But alas! They all failed. So, hey, everyone I know: suck it.

Obviously, this is not the real layout. I am enlisting outside (read: paid) help for that. I just chose this one because it was weird but not terrible and with boobs and/or pictures of copiers and crap like most Wordpress templates out there.

But for serious, after a long story that I will not recount here, I am taking the rest of this semester off woo hoo! And to keep me from going crazy and getting depressed from boredom and feeling like I’m a failure for not doing amazing things with my life, I am making this Web site my job. I will be working my butt off to put up content (hopefully) every day. In order to stick to that, I have even devised weekly posts that I will be putting up, so you generally know what to expect on a given day. Here’s the tentative schedule, which will probably change soon as I get things figured out and start writing and such:

Monday: “Rummage” - Since we generally have the best bounty of leftovers on Monday, I will be rummaging through the fridge/pantry/the huge box of crap I brought back from school to create a new and exciting made-up dish oooh! This week’s dish? Didn’t go so well. Here’s hoping next week’s dish goes slightly better.

Tuesday: Tuesday will be kind of a free-for-all day. I’ll try to put up restaurant reviews, my adventures in picky eating, or whatever myriad love letters or recipes I feel like putting up.

Wednesday: “Gag Reflex” - In continuing the awesome feature I did over on the Dive blog, every Wednesday I will subject myself to something amazingly disgusting. Or maybe not. Awesomeness shall ensue.

Thursday: “Pot O’ Gold” - This will be one-pot kinda things. This could be the day when I spill all my mom’s secret recipes for gumbo and chili and stuff, since most of these things are made in one pot. This one might end up being another free-for-all day if I run out of ideas.

Friday: “Drinkin’” - Since I shall soon be 21, I will be able to try out all those crazy-ass drinks I’ve always wondered about (buttery nipple, anyone?). I’ll also be detailing my awesome trips to the ABC store and their righteous indignation at my buying alcohol, since I look about 15. I’ll hopefully be mixing some cool drinks and then drinking heavily with my mom on the back porch while we bitch at each other. Pretty much business as usual.

So, yes, I will be doing cool awesome daily things. I’ll be easing into the posting every day, so it won’t totally be every single day for a while, but hopefully I’ll work up to it and this Web site will be awesome and everything you always hoped and dreamed.

Ciao!

~Rachael~

Ok, so, obviously, the web site’s been lacking as of late. But my new year’s resolution is to work on it a lot and make it super awesome, starting with the design yaaay! My brother and I are working on a design, so the web site might be down at certain points while we figure crap out. But anywho, I shall see you again in 2008 with lovely new design and even more awesome stuff, including the beginning of the point of this entire web site. A project that has been 20 years in the making. An epic project that will be super awesome. Yaaay. So, seriously, please come back. See ya later!

“Can’t pay my telephone bills, can’t pay my automo-bills…” Ahhh Destiny’s Child. All before everyone started caring about Beyonce and she started dating Jay-Z and her mother made her wear her horrible clothes so she could live out her vicarious dreams of being a fashion designer.

But when you realize what this post is actually about, you will groan, because yes, I love puns and other things that are not really funny but I find hilarious. Thank you Bryan Reed for ruining me. Anyhow, in order to celebrate Boxing Day, that lovely, pointless British day-after-Christmas tradition, I made a trifle. Ok, that’s a lie. I made it yesterday, and no one here freakin knows what one is. But British people make them for Boxing Day. Which is the day after Christmas. They also eat yorkshire puddings and the leftovers of their giant standing rib roasts and other generally disgusting British things. But trifle is generally non-disgusting. Actually, it’s generally pretty freakin awesome. Except for that one Rachel made on friends that she accidentally put the beef and peas and carrots in because the recipes got stuck together and hilarity ensued! That’s where you know a trifle from.

I make it every year, and insist on making it from scratch, including the freakin whipped cream. My mother is confounded by my insistence on doing things the hard way. I get it from my dad. But hey, in the end, it totally tastes better.

Anywho, a trifle basically consists of cake, fruit, jam and custard all layered in a trifle dish (yes, there are dishes specifically made for this dessert. And we have one. Kill me.) Also another reason Americans would be confounded by this dish is that custard only exists as something eaten regularly in Britain and probably Australia or something because they do everything England does. It isn’t the thick, set kind in creme brulee or panna cotta, but it’s a kind of sauce that’s basically like thin pudding. Also the base for custard-based ice creams. A custard is basically anything with milk and eggs that is thickened by the heating and cooking of the eggs. The custard I make for this is creme anglaise (recipe follows), and it’s freakin delicious. Or you could do what my mother suggests and use vanilla pudding. If you’re a terrible person.

I used to do homemade pound cake and put orange zest in it, but my mom made me start buying the pre-made sour cream pound cake from the store, and it’s a lot easier, mostly because it’s baked in a round ring pan and the slices go much easier in the round trifle dish. Also the fruit of choice for this trifle is raspberries, although you can use any kind of berries or soft fruit that would kinda get all mushy and meld in with the rest of the ingredients. Also, for the jam portion, I melt seedless raspberry jam (Polaner’s yeeeah) and brush it on the cake layers.

So, what you do is layer cake slices on the bottom of the dish and brush it with the melted jam:

Traditionally, some liquor is supposed to be doused on the cake before the jam in order to fully wet it so it can better meld with the rest of the layers, but it generally tastes too strong for me, plus I don’t want no dang mushy cake. It’s unamerican. In the past though, I did use Grand Marnier, which is an orange liqueur to go with the orange pound cake and add a sweetness to the sharp flavor of the raspberries. So after the cake, brush on liberal amounts of the melted jam, enough to wet the cake. Then drizzle on the custard in a lovely manner:

Then put a good amount of raspberries:

Then repeat. I like to kinda mash each layer down once I get the cake on, before I put on the next layer of jam so that it compacts all the ingredients together. So just repeat until you reach the top. I generally get a good three layers in. Then cover the top completely in whipped cream, add some more fresh berries or fruit as garnish, and voila! You have a lovely trifle that is way easier than its lavish appearance would have people believe. Also, it does have to sit a while so it can get all amalgamated and delicious. And seriously, holy crap. Not tryin’ to toot my own horn here, but it’s super delicious and everyone thinks you’re a total stud for making a giant dessert. Yum.

*Addendum: that was a lie about the creme anglaise recipe following. It’s slightly involved, and I don’t feel like typing it all out. Plus you’ll never make it. If you’re curious, just google it or something.