The Essential Omnivore

And by we I mean me and my dog blue, the good old blogstuff formerly known as College Kibble is now the Essential Omnivore, because I’m OUTTA university in weeks! Absolutely titillation here, of which written text gives insufficient justice. Here’s what I cooked on Wednesday, the Asian Cabbage Salad from Deborah Madison’s Vegetarian Cooking for Everyone (any kind of vore you can throw at her…). It’s been six days and there’s still a tub of it downstairs in the fridge… it’s pretty unappealing, which is so sad considering the only ingredient I didn’t have was the fresh ginger. It really is key to the flavor balance. I tried adding lime juice to bring more zip, more zing to the salad, but nothing. Ginger is irreplaceable. Even by its friend dried powdered ginger. For a second, I thought about opening one of our ginger tea sachets and throwing it into the mix, but the second passed, thank god, and I assumed that the sugary natural of the tea would be a poor, decidedly unsavory addition. So, I crawled gingerless through the recipe text… I did eat quite a bit, though, save for the gladware container or two I forgot throughout the cities during my weekly venturing… whoops. Tomorrow morning will see me tossing the rest of the cabbage out. It will also see me with a tear in my eye and a slump to my step. For woe is me. But the positive? I have an even more profound appreciation for the inexplicable rhizome that is my friend the ginger root. I already had an appreciation for its quese-reducing potential, but now? Watch out! Ginger pusher in the making… also, I wonder if it would do well in a pot? Could I grow this tuber and have my very own? Bond with one? Proceed to name it and wrap it in sweaters to keep it cozy during the long, harsh winter? Could I warm it solely with my love?

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Mmm! I should be starting that homework right about now, but during my daily file mucking, I found a picture of my buche! My buche de noel! I made this sucker last Christmas… how did I not post about thee? It was hella tight. Major-ly and undyingly so. If only I had the recipe… from what I remember, it had NO wheat flour, and was basically chocolate, sugar and egg yolks folded into stiff egg whites. How cool, it baked into a cake with just those ingredients. The frosting was more or less whipped cream with cocoa powder it in as well. As for the mushrooms? Why, meringues, of course! And the branches? From the Christmas tree! TIP: Do not use real foliage. The pine needles will sneakily stick to your cake’s frosting. Which won’t stop you from eating it, but may provide an uninvited poke or two. Still, so worth it.

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And all purpose it is! Since receiving the kindest e-mail requesting that I review two twelve ounce bottles of this sauce two months ago (anyone else behind on life, too?), I’ve used it on an assortment of chicken, tacos, beef burgers, even with fried eggs. A definite delicious. Country Bob, what’s your secret? The ingredient list is simple, with no preservatives… maybe I’m missing something, but the taste is fantastic, so, how can this product be greater than the sum of its parts? Don’t get me wrong, I actually like math (shh), so I’ve been trying to get around this formula in my head, but this skips into the realm of illogical. Illogical flavor dude.

Country Bob is a country wizard, a warlock, the man with the plan. World domination could be near. Go visit Mr. Bob right now, yeah, drop those cheetos, go support the economy and small business owners and try it out!

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So goddamn neglectful! Somehow my little blog has become horribly uninspired. I think it has to do with the layout, the feel, the look. Apparently I’m much more concerned about appearances than I had hoped. Let’s focus, I’ve got a list of actions:

1. Don’t die in school this semester.

2. Cook more of my own food.

3. Write a proper review for a soon-to-be-not-so-secret secret bottle of sauce.

4. Create a new, non-sucky layout.

5. Eat lunch.

…I’ll probably be striking #5 off the list in about fifteen minutes. And there are no promises about #1. Even with the majority of my classes as pass/fail, I feel the load. And it’s heavy! Plus I could whine into infinity about my major project being scary and intimidating, but that would get me nowhere. New rule for the new semester? Be positive! And really, once I’m past the fear factor, I think my major project will be a lot of fun.

After December (when I graduate), will College Kibble still be allowed its name? Must I choose a new one? Or maybe a new blog is in order…

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Alana made bread! And I ate it! Major! It needs enough time to rise twice, which could be off putting if you want bread NOW and have all the ingredients and so on, but according to her the recipe is quite easy and only takes a minute to throw together. Then it’s just the waiting that’s hard. The recipe is from Mark Bittman, aka “The Minimalist” over at the New York Times. I highly suggest, if you have a dutch oven (which my parents did) to try this recipe and swoon appropriately after you taste the wholesome goodness of home-baked bread.

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Hellman’s new online advertising campaign answers a baffling question: Bobby Flay, man or woman?

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Illest late-night summer snack yet: cold asparagus and lemon juice. Now you know (Bill Nye throwback anyone?)!

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[Note: I found this draft from a few months ago, and have decided to post it. Otherwise who KNOWS what could happen to the balance of the universe.]

It’s been a long, pathetically hard week full of dragged knuckles and dried tears flaking off my rosy cheeks. I’m back in school after a delicious break of t-shirts and Minnesota sun. Like, jammie t-shirts worn around the house hermit-like (replete with snail-like hallway pacing on occasion). For I am antsy and spring stuck its beautiful nose into the door frame of my life, and almost came into the room before winter’s (hopefully) final blow. The always relevant question: have I been cooking? Actually, the past few days, yes. Essential figures from le family are gone and I fill in, like a sous chef who gets the kitchen to herself while the artiste is out to play. Or the mice and the cat analogy could work. Mainly I sit around thinking about how much fun it’d be to eat.

Like, and stuff.

And then I continue to sit my butt down in front of this awfully-buggy-for-a-new-computer and fry my eyeballs. I reek of failed puns, obscene jokes and references only I would find logical. And funny! Not a great way to continue my pookums, my little love bud, you, dear blog. I have spring fever. I need flowers. And fruit. And grass with ookie little bunnies wunning awl orvrah tehy plance.

Because I would be happy with that. That’s what I’ve been driven to. Ookie little bun-buns that scrawmper w’all ovhar ta yahred. My brain is soft. Everything else too harsh, baby talk prevails.

Oh also? Yeah, I’ve mentioned it before. But I feel the need again. since I’m talking about love and mush here…

PRUNES!

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Sorry, but it was so bad. General question here. We’ve all had cough medicine, right? Right. And while there may be a few of us who enjoy that special flavor it imparts while we suck it down (like me!), it’s an acquired taste associated with its grand cough-quelling properties. After tonight, definately not a flavor that works as pork-stewing liquid. Because Shitty Wok, that pork rice you made? Who ok-ed it? Who gave it the right to be served to paying customers? I’m all for new flavors, believe me, but what the hell. That was gross and unusual punishment for an innocent consumer like me. And the spicy beef? There WAS no beef. It was wokified tar paper strips drenched in very un-spicy sauce that tasted like the cook threw in some extra cig ash for fun. Oh, and it was surrounded by a meager assortment of boiled vegetables, which were also slathered in un-spicy/un-happy sauce. SO UNCOOL. And I suppose it was my own fault for ordering the sweet and spicy chicken and expecting anything more than what it was; a box full of doughy breaded chicken rounds with a fittingly shitty and sticky red sauce on the side. I want to get something positive in this post, say that the french fries didn’t let me down (I ordered because: french fries? At a Chinese place? Schwah yeah?) but THEY DID. Soggy, starchy and flavorless. This place could be featured on failblog because everything sucked really hard. Like a good vacuum. But even that sounds like a compliment.

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It took me forty minutes to turn on my laptop today. It’s fine when I’m at home and it’s plugged in. It beeps, whirs, asks for a swip of my finger and I’m all set. But for some reason it freaks when I take it around town. Do computer suffer from social anxiety? Maybe performance anxiety? When I suggested we could bond over that, the laptop went bezerk, shut down and demanded a reboot. I should have known it wouldn’t like confrontation.

Anyway, I made a weird dinner. Even weird for me, because it involved deli ham. I don’t typically like that stuff and I avoid it because its nitrates could give me migraines. But I guess last Sunday was an exception. Oh yeah, I really went all out. DELI MEAT + LUCIA = WILD. It was lentil and pea soup, brown rice, and ribbons (they look like worms, whatever) of honey-baked ham.

It was ok when I ate it. I gulped it down no problem. However, the next day when I tried to eat the leftovers, that’s when things got gross. I don’t know what happened inside that gladware container in the fridge, but what I do know is that Lucia’s reheated lentil soup is disgusting. It tasted like dirt. Watery, salty dirt.

Over and out.

 

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