Stirrin' up the troubs

I'm wondering if some of the people who think they have a gluten sensitivity actually have a sensitivity to all the crap that goes into processed foods like pasta and factory bread. Maybe once those sources are removed from the diet, the "gluten" reactions from other, more natural sources are actually psychosomatic?


This "theory" is really just wishful thinking. But I wonder if it has been examined? I was too lazy to look it up before I started typing this blog post. Besides, I think it's best to put all inflammatory ideas straight on to the internet without thinking about it first.

Speaking of inflammatory, you know who's crazy? Paleo diet people. No legumes but go ahead and eat a rasher of bacon at every meal. Because you know, Paleolithic man was awesome at charcuterie. And don't get me started on the unsustainability of the entire human race eating eight ounces of grass fed beef three times a day.

Actually, you know what, I bet not ALL Paleo diet people are crazy. I bet there are those of them who quietly refrain from eating grains and dairy and are just as put off as I am by the idea of having steak and six eggs for breakfast every morning. It's unfortunate when a few bloggers ruin it for everybody else. At any rate, those crazy bloggers introduced me to the wonders of pastured butter. And for that I am eternally grateful.

One week in

Good news! There hasn't been an earthquake big enough for me to feel in, like, a whole day. Progress!

Remember how I said I was all jittery about taking this trip, and I couldn't really explain why? I wonder if maybe all this earthquakeyness is why. It really kind of makes you think about what you want out of life, and what you don't. For instance, when there was an earthquake while I was sitting in the food court at the mall eating mango curry, I thought to myself how much I didn't want to die eating mall food court Indian food. You can see how that sort of thing can be extrapolated out.

There is a zoo across the street, which is cool. I have never lived across the street from the zoo before. We bought a season pass because it was basically the same price as two visits would be, and I have to take Marlo back there every day until I convince her to ride the donkey. She has to ride the donkey because, alas, Mama is over the maximum allowed height for donkey rides. Apparently this zoo is sort of the ghetto zoo, because everyone keeps asking us why we didn't go to the other one. Does the other zoo have a pool full of disgusting eels to which you can feed cat food off a spoon? I didn't think so.

They are obsessed with eels in New Zealand. It is probably the strangest thing about this place. There is an aquarium that advertises nothing else but that they have a 150 year old eel that is fed at 10, 12:30, and 3 daily. You can bet that I am going to plan my whole day around that schedule. First and foremost, I intend to find out exactly how they know this eel is 150 years old. Next, I want to see if it is REALLY huge and disgusting or just slightly more disgusting and large than the rest of the eels. Does it lift its giant disgusting eel mouth out of the water when it sees the spoon coming, like the ones at the zoo? Does it eat cat food, or does it have to eat something more substantial - or even a special geriatric diet? See. Many questions that must be answered.

Ooh! Almost forgot! Are there giant 150 year old eel souvenirs to be purchased? If there are t-shirts, I have friends in Tampa who are exactly the type of people who would be delighted to find one in their mailbox.  Which is why I love them.

We also had deep fried bacon

You know, I'm no trendspotter, but I think that salted caramel has jumped the shark. That doesn't mean that I don't love it, oh no it does not. But I'm realizing that it is everywhere, and in increasingly shitty iterations. It's definitely a dessert buzz word that those crafty restaurant folk realize will get people to fork over an extra fifteen bucks at the end of a meal. Maybe they'll do it for the same reason that my husband and I did recently, in an attempt to salvage an underwhelming and overpriced meal. John Howie, I'm looking at you. Or maybe it's just because salted caramel is guaranteed to be at least as delicious as an Oreo, and could potentially be, like, fifteen thousand times better. And if you disagree with me on that point, well, I'm not sure you and I were ever that good of friends.

So even though I'm kind of sick of hearing myself talk about it, I made salted caramel chocolate pretzel bark last weekend. It was good. Damn good. But it was sort of like how I imagine heroin is - I felt awesome eating it until I felt sick, and then I felt sick until I ate it again. It is definitely meant for small doses. And I think it counts as a small dose to crush it and blend it into some vanilla ice cream.

The next salted caramel dessert I want to try to make? Salted caramel apple pie. Or maybe salted caramel pumpkin cheesecake, which I saw demonstrated on local tv last weekend. Or maybe I'll just read all the blogs from 2009 talking about such recipes and call it a day.

Rainy afternoon food network musings

Not that you asked, but I have absolutely no desire to be Giada De Laurentiis's friend. Any time I've ever seen her do a show about having a party it looks super uncomfortable to me. Maybe it has something to do about how she's always getting in everybody's face demanding that they agree with her about how delicious her food is. It's very needy. Also, the awkward thing I just saw with her taking a turn in the DJ booth was very hard to watch. I can't imagine having to see it in person and pretend I was okay with it.

I figured out my Curtis Stone thing from awhile back. He looks like Ryan Gosling in drag. THAT is what it is.

Speaking of (TV) chefs, let's talk about this whole Meatless Monday thing for a minute. Do leftovers count? I don't think they do. I think if you are eating meat leftovers on Monday, you have not broken the sacrament. But then I'm a firm believer in the spirit over the letter.

STOP THE PRESSES.

My neighbor has chickens.

If you need me, I will be at the feed store buying myself some CHICKENS.

They're illegal in my neighborhood, but you know - strength in numbers.

And now we have a real good excuse to shoot the racoons we caught fornicating in the cul-de-sac. We have to protect our neighborhood livestock.

I am thisclose to getting my goat lawnmower - I can feel it!

It all makes sense now

I just spent the past hour or so rifling through my cookbook collection, trying to find an alternate shoofly recipe, maybe see how the pie works, maybe figure out where I saw it in the first place.

The only place I could find it was in Richard Sax's Classic Home Desserts. Under "Coffee Cakes."

I love it when an obsession comes full circle.