Chicken broth, brown rice, and chili sauce make a fantastically lazy weekend meal. Simple, affordable, and surprisingly delicious!
And sorry for the limited content in this post. I wanted to get a new post out so that my new header would look "original"--and it wouldn't look original next to yesterday's post!
I am officially "over it."
After today's lunch of seared, coriander-encrusted lamb tenderloin, I discovered that I am over my once-vehement and irrational aversion to lamb.
For a foodie, I was a late-bloomer. The first time I ever sampled lamb, was in my dormitory cafeteria at college. "Lamb stew" was what the cafeteria called it. I remember my reaction as if it were yesterday. I angrily threw my fork down on the floor after shouting, "This funky tasting meat went bad!"
From that day onward, I avoided lamb like the plague. I thought I would never get used to the strange and pungent aftertaste of the meat. What others dubbed as "gamey," I dubbed as, "tastes like a mixture of chemicals from the bottom sink cupboard." I tried lamb several more times since then, but each time, I was further convinced that it would take a miracle for my beef-loving-tongue to grow accustomed to the unique flavors of lamb meat.
Today at lunch, I decided to take another gamble on lamb. I ordered the lamb tenderloin, thinking, "Even if I am so repulsed to the point that I don't finish, I can always give the leftovers to someone else."
When my knife touched the blackened crust of the seared tenderloin, a clear au jus immediately began to trickle from the surface of the meat. Unlike a tough, overcooked, and jerky-like steak, my knife easily slid through the meat without the need for any roughhousing or wrangling. The lamb was so tender, it was literally "like buttah." The savory aroma from the lamb was intoxicating. The meat was succulent and substantial, and the flavors were vivacious and sublime.
My plan about taking the leftovers back home in a doggie bag had failed. I finished every single bite of my meal. After licking my lips and my lunch plate, I happily hummed some songs from "Love, Angel, Music, Baby (L.A.M.B.)" Hey, if Gwen Stefani even lauds the merits of lamb, it has to be good!
What makes flat ribbons of al dente fettucine worth a spot on my lunchtime radar screen? A hearty jade-colored infusion of spinach of course! Greener than spring foliage at the San Francisco Botanical Garden, spinach pasta is the best way to incorporate your five daily servings of vegetables (or fruit) with your necessary servings of grains and carbohydrates. Abundant in iron, cartenoids, and vitamins A and K, the healthy attributes of spinach are captured in spinach pasta, but presented in a much more kid-friendly package. Your kids will say, "Eww, green noodles! . . . Can I have some?" There are "illusory" benefits for us adults too. Since spinach pasta is green, it can technically be categorized a vegetable. . . Right? Thus, even if you are on a low-carb diet, eating spinach pasta is a win-win situation!
My dream car as a child was a 4X4 monster truck with "fertilizer spreader" tires.
I find Jeff Foxworthy heehaw-larious.
It feels best when I drink my beer (Keystone) in a plastic 7-Eleven cup.
I used listen to hardcore country music.
I've lived in a trailer.
And . . . I consider Fritos and a six-pack of soda to be the breakfast equivalent of cereal and milk.
However, living in the Bay Area has had a significant impact on my preferences, behavior, and appetite.
My ideal car now is a hybrid and my fridge is stocked with lanky glass bottles of artisan brewed pale ales and speciality sodas--courtesy of my roommate. However, the most drastic change in my life, is that my Fritos have been replaced with an exotic potpourri of organic and trans fat-free vegetable chips, including dried slices of parsnip, batata yam, taro, and yucca root.
At times, I miss the combo of carbonated sugar water and the monosodium glutamate saturated cumin corn curls, but I've learned to appreciate the subtleties of vegetable chips. Instead of throwing away the irregular chip with the screwy and burnt looking brown marks, I've learned that "that" is actually taro and it is one of the tastier ones. Admittedly, I originally thought these chips tasted like chalky pieces of broken plaster, but now, my tastebuds have acclimated to this gourmet snack food, which is immensely popular up here in the Bay Area.
But don't tell my roommate, I secretly make late night runs for my Fritos fix.
I hope the revelations in this post haven't destroyed my food blogger cred' in your eyes. Y'all please come back now, y'hear?
This Saturday, I stopped by Costco to pick up basic food supplies for this weekend. Although I wouldn't be watching the televised Oscar ceremony this Sunday, I would be helping to cook for church on Sunday evening, and I knew that that we had to spruce up the church meal to make it Oscar-caliber. Into my cart, I threw a few refrigerated logs of goat cheese, an aged wedge of parmesan cheese, and a plastic mesh bag filled with purple onion bulbs. Those ingredients would later come together as a "baked chevre and onion tart," with golden-brown puff pastry strips laid over the top as a lattice crust.
But imagine my pleasant surprise when I stopped by the refrigerated foods aisle and saw a gigantic tub of creamy hummus. This was no ordinary hummus. The presentation was outstanding. Underneath the transparent plastic lid, the exposed surface of the hummus was generously bespeckled with a burgundy-colored paprika and topped with a tight cluster of pine nuts, strategically placed in the center.
I don't need to open an envelope to discover that Costco has won the award for best presentation and costume design of commercially-made hummus.
Princess, imagine one of these under your mattress.
These dry-roasted pea pebbles are encompassed with buttery jackets of crunchy cracker coating, and often spiced up with a piquant bite of wasabi.
After being introduced to this healthy snack invention a year ago, I've been an addict ever since. And I am constantly thinking of ways to incorporate these simple, yet fulfilling Japanese munchies into my life.
Rather than reaching into a crumpled foil bag half-full with broken and translucent potato chips, I now make a beeline for dehydrated peas. No more popcorn at the movies! No more pretzels during the Monday night football game! Rather, I electrify my palate by substituting wasabi peas for monotonous and lackluster snacks instead.
The best thing about these pea snacks, is that your hands won't be filthy with residual neon-orange cheese powder afterwards. And, after snacktime, you can raise your spotless hands in the air and proclaim, "No oleaginousness here!"
This past weekend, I was able to enjoy the agricultural bounty of Southern California, as I was invited by my mother to help her pick ripened navel oranges from her backyard citrus tree.
Armed with a used brown paper grocery bag, I went to work.
Perched upon a metal ladder, I peered over the leafy curtain of branches and craned my elbows and fingers to snap the gleaming oranges off of the citrus tree. I worked assidiously and methodically: picking, grabbing, pulling, twisting, and piling.
The oranges were voluptuous and rotund. As I worked, I marveled at their curled and narled navels and laughed amusingly at their unsightly blemishes, pock marks, and dimpled rinds.
After a few hours of work, I sat down on lowest rung of the ladder to rest. My hands were shorn of my working gloves, and with an orange in my left hand, I slipped my pointed finger through the rind and was greeted an almost-effervescent mist of citrus vapor spraying into the air.
One bite of a succulent citrus segment, and sugary juices burst forth into my eager mouth. I could feel the delicate, thin-membraned, caviar-like citrus beads on my discerning tongue.
As I enjoyed my light refreshment, I came to a simple, yet satisfying epiphany: "Yum."
This is the way to celebrate every three-day President's Day weekend.
With a classic, all-American burger.
But there are several rules in the President's Day Burger Bill of Rights.
Burgers should not be allowed on President's Day if they don't have parallel charbroiled grill marks seared into the surface of the juicy ground beef patty. And make "patty" plural. There must be two of inside each and every burger served on President's Day. Our country might protect freedom of speech and religion, but there is no Constitutional protection for having less than one hamburger patty per burger.
Other necessary ingredients for a President's Day burger include: crisp, concentric rings sliced from a yellow onion bulb; an obligatory leaf of iceberg lettuce (preferably not from the yellowed and bitter lettuce heart, but it doesn't have to be green); and a slice of fire-engine-red vine-ripened tomato. And a President's Day burger is simply not a burger if it doesn't include three full strips of bacon. We need to support the pork farmers beyond the contributions they get from pork barrel politics.
Mustard and ketchup are to be avoided like a Senator embroiled in a bad scandal. Those paltry condiments are better reserved for wieners. Literally. A hulking President's Day burger needs a generous slathering of the "man's man" condiment: thousand island dressing. I'm sure any American President would wage war on a thousand islands just to find that perfect WMD (Wickedly and Mighty Delicious) sauce combination of sweet pickle relish, mayonnaise, and ketchup.
Well, maybe just President Bush.
The burger "must" be overflowing with ingredients to the point a President couldn't even grab it tightly in his outstretched and open palms, but also "smashable," so that it can be compacted enough to fit in his open mouth.
In other words, the burger still can be more than five inches high.
Please take precautions when consuming such President's Day burgers though, for they may contribute to rapid inflation (of the waistline) and they may also cause some significant greenhouse gas emissions (especially if there is cheese in the burger and you are lactose intolerant).
Happy President's Day!
Chicken broth, brown rice, and chili sauce make a fantastically lazy weekend meal. Simple, affordable, and surprisingly delicious!
And sorry for the limited content in this post. I wanted to get a new post out so that my new header would look "original"--and it wouldn't look original next to yesterday's post!
What makes flat ribbons of al dente fettucine worth a spot on my lunchtime radar screen? 
However, living in the Bay Area has had a significant impact on my preferences, behavior, and appetite.
This Saturday, I stopped by Costco to pick up basic food supplies for this weekend. Although I wouldn't be watching the televised Oscar ceremony this Sunday, I would be helping to cook for church on Sunday evening, and I knew that that we had to spruce up the church meal to make it Oscar-caliber. Into my cart, I threw a few refrigerated logs of goat cheese, an aged wedge of parmesan cheese, and a plastic mesh bag filled with purple onion bulbs. Those ingredients would later come together as a "baked chevre and onion tart," with golden-brown puff pastry strips laid over the top as a lattice crust.
Princess, imagine one of these under your mattress.
These dry-roasted pea pebbles are encompassed with buttery jackets of crunchy cracker coating, and often spiced up with a piquant bite of wasabi.
This past weekend, I was able to enjoy the agricultural bounty of Southern California, as I was invited by my mother to help her pick ripened navel oranges from her backyard citrus tree.
This is the way to celebrate every three-day President's Day weekend.
But there are several rules in the President's Day Burger Bill of Rights.
Mustard and ketchup are to be avoided like a Senator embroiled in a bad scandal. Those paltry condiments are better reserved for wieners. Literally. A hulking President's Day burger needs a generous slathering of the "man's man" condiment: thousand island dressing. I'm sure any American President would wage war on a thousand islands just to find that perfect WMD (Wickedly and Mighty Delicious) sauce combination of sweet pickle relish, mayonnaise, and ketchup. 
In other words, the burger still can be more than five inches high.
My name is Passionate Eater, and I am a closet fan of instant noodles.
Add boiling water and the foil packet of dehydrated green onions and powdered beef bouillion, and lunch is complete!
I love fluffy, vegetarian steamed buns. The pillowy packages are stuffed with healthy and abundantly flavorful ingredients, including scallions, shredded daikon and carrots, and minced mushrooms.
What makes these buns my "everyday pleasure," is that the affordable buns can be purchased from the frozen food section in almost any Asian supermarket, and later microwaved whenever you have a hankering for them.
Forget the barbequed meat, when you can have an equally delicious vegetarian alternative in just a couple of microwave minutes!
