The Odd Broad

The Accidental Carnivore (or "Pork You")

As you may have heard me already mention, on September 1st I decided to give up meat.  Well, actually, I tried to become Vegan and succeeded for a good two weeks, but there are times when I desperately hanker for a hunk of cheese.  (So I've eaten a bit of feta.  And what's homemade pesto without the parmesan?)

I've come down with the flu twice since this experiment began, and after talking to two long-term vegetarians who recently began eating fish, I decided that maybe I should give it a try as well.  (Making me more of a Pescatarian?)  I've eaten shrimp twice and one night we baked some cod.  I've never particularly liked fish, but I liked it that night, because I was a woman on the edge. 

I want to be clear though: I've eaten no red meat, or milk, or butter; no chicken stock, even, which I probably consider to be the most difficult staple to do without.  There have been no evenings filled with roasted pork tenderloin, no Thai basil chicken.  Mashed potatoes certainly don't taste the same without milk, but you won't find me adding any to my spuds.  No siree, Barbara. 

This is something I've taken very seriously.  Nobody can believe I've lasted this long, least of all myself.  Just yesterday, in fact, I privately marveled at how amazing it was that I hadn't eaten chicken, pork, or beef since the start of September.  Pretty freaking monumental, if I do say so myself.  (Smug-e-ty smug smug smug.  Smug as a bug in a rug.)

I plopped down on the couch next to Hubby and proceeded to watch Ina Garten grill beef sliders.  (Oh, I haven't given up watching other people prepare meat, masochist that I am.)  I continue to lust after meat.  Even as I mentally replay the image of those poor chickens being sent to the slaughter in the PETA video, it still can't totally curb my desire to bake them in a pot pie.  Old instincts die hard, I suppose.

Beef sliders.  Beef sliders covered in melted cheese.  They looked nice.  Real nice.  And then it hit me.  It hit me like a ton of bricks.  It was as if someone had dropped a cow on me.

"OH MY GOD!!!!!"

I gasped in horror and covered my mouth with my hands.  I stared blankly at my husband, unable to utter another word.  (Yes, it was all very dramatic and musical theatre but what do you want from me?)

"What?  What's the matter?  What is it?"

It would be a good forty seconds before I could spit it out, and even then I didn't want to say it.  Because if I said it, then it would be true.  And it couldn't be true, although I knew there was no denying it. 

"I FUCKING ATE MEAT YESTERDAY."

Mother f*cker.  Reader, it was true.  Something about those mini sliders had jogged my memory.  I was flabbergasted.  I'd fallen off the wagon, and hadn't even realized! 

Sliders.  The day prior was the Halloween party at work, and I was in charge of it.  Sliders were on the menu; cute little sliders with tiny buns and little tomato slices.  My mom was in town and she and Sissy brought Lukey the Wonder Nephew to the party.  (He was the cutest damn cowboy you ever did see, complete with John Wayne swagger.)  I'd been quite busy all day; all week, for that matter.  At one point I made a plate up for Lukey with a chicken finger, mini pizza and a pig in a blanket.  Our little cowboy went straight for the pizza. 

And that's when it happened.  Like a dream, I can now clearly remember reaching for that chicken finger, and taking one bite, then another.  A minute later, without even being aware, I mechanically popped that frigging mini wiener right into my piehole.  I feel I should mention, I WASN'T EVEN HUNGRY!  And by that time both bits of food were stone cold and therefore not very tasty.  Neither my mother nor my sister thought anything of it, and I didn't either, until the next day at 2:00 pm when I watched the Barefoot Contessa get her grilling on.

Am I a complete nut job?  Who falls off the wagon without noticing?  Is this something people do?  Should I be nervous?  Is my subconscious so starved for pork and poultry that I would accidentally consume it?  Or was I so preoccupied by work duties that I momentarily became a nervous eater? 

If I am to fall off the wagon, I'd like the act to be pre-meditated.  I'd like it to be a fully conscious decision.  I'd like the meal to be...really effing delicious.  Truly worth it, you know?  Not a goddamn mini wiener and a cold chicken finger!

When I went back to Sissy's house that night I even complained that there was nothing for me to eat.  (Because I couldn't eat meat.)  Even that night, when I got home, I remarked to Hubby that the only thing I'd had to eat that day was a crappy slice of pizza.  I really, truly believed this was so.  I reheated some pasta puttenesca, devoured it, drank a glass of wine and promptly fell asleep.

I must be mental.  Do I have early onset Alzheimer's or something?  And here I'd been acting all high and mighty for forgoing eggs and chicken stock when I'd already tumbled head first off the chuck wagon!  And furthermore, I didn't even get to enjoy it! 

If that's not a kick to the balls then I don't know what is.

Poor little chicken.  Poor little piggie.  I'm really very sorry.  I honestly didn't mean to eat you.  xoxo

It's chili weather in Odd Broad Land

For what it's worth, I've been vegetarian (and mostly vegan) since September 2nd.  (I can scarcely believe it, but it's true.)  My last carnivorous meal was chicken picatta, prepared by my sister.  Today marks day twenty-five, though it somehow feels longer.

Being completely vegan has proven to be a challenge for this broad.  But I really adore the way I feel sans dairy, and jeans that haven't fit me in years are suddenly sliding on without a struggle.  I wont lie; this is a bit of a thrill.

Oh, there have been a few stumbles: spanikopita was my first queso downfall, though entirely accidental.  The eggplant parmesan I encountered last week, however, was purely premeditated.  As in, I made it.  (In my defense, I did go to three different stores in search of a local mozzarella.)

But I've eaten no meat.  None!  Zilch!  Nada!

Initially, the thing that frightened me most about this endeavor was my deep love for all things food related: The Food Network, foodie magazines, my cookbook collection, my nightly trips to Trader Joe's, the moments spent puttering around my minuscule kitchen...

I'm the type of person who starts thinking about dinner before 10 am.  And at first, I really didn't know what to cook.  Everything vegetarian felt like such a side dish.  But here's something tasty, meatless, and very much an entree.  I found this recipe in my Ellie Krieger cookbook and simply omitted the beef and added some garlic.  Vegetarian Chili!

WHAT YOU'LL NEED:

1 onion, diced

1 red bell pepper, diced

1/2 cup thinly diced carrots

1 1/2 cups frozen corn kernels (Trader Joe's fire roasted corn works nicely)

3 cloves garlic, minced

1/2 of a chipotle chili in adobo sauce, seeded and minced, plus 1 spoonful of the adobo sauce

1 28 ounce can of crushed tomatoes, with their juices

1 can black beans, drained and rinsed

1 can red kidney beans, drained and rinsed

1/2 teaspoon dried oregano

2 teaspoons ground cumin

1 tablespoon olive oil

1 teaspoon ground coriander

2 cups water

salt, freshly ground black pepper to taste

WHAT TO DO:

Heat the oil in a dutch oven or large pot over medium heat.  Add the onion, bell pepper, and carrot; cover and cook, stirring occasionally, until softened, about 8-10 minutes.  Season with salt and pepper.  Stir in the garlic and cook for about a minute.

Add the cumin and coriander and cook, stirring, for one minute.  Stir in the tomatoes, water, chipotle and adobo sauce, and oregano and bring to a boil.  Reduce the heat to medium-low and cook, partially covered, stirring from time to time, for 20-30 minutes.

Stir in the beans and continue cooking, partially covered, for 20 minutes longer, until chili is thickened.  Stir in the corn and cook until heated through.  Season with salt and pepper to taste and serve.

Notes: If the chili seems too dry towards the end, add a little water. If you like your chili a little smokier, add the other half of the pepper and another spoonful of adobo sauce.

Hubby and I ate our chili with cornbread (NOT vegan, I realize, but it was made with whole grains, and I slathered it with vegan butter.)  Very tasty!  I didn't miss the meat at all!

Trying new things

Rachael Ray's recipe for Chicken, Biscuits 'n' Gravy Casserole is...sniff...just heavenly.  Truly. 

I am currently fifteen days off of meat and dairy, and all of the websites I visit suggest I "cook what is familiar."  And so I decided to do just that.  How different could it taste, anyway?  I would simply omit the chicken and make a few minor substitutions:

Cow's milk = Rice milk

Cheddar cheese = Vegan cheddar cheese

Chicken stock = Vegetable broth

Butter = Earth Balance "buttery spread"

White flour = whole wheat pastry flour (the only whole wheat-y thing I had on hand)

I worked furiously, my hopes higher than high.  As the gravy mixture began to waft up to my nostrils, however, my hopes slowly began to deflate.  I could really smell that rice milk, and it didn't seem to blend well with the veggies.  All the same, I popped the casserole into the oven and waited.  

The consistency of that vegan cheddar kind of gives me the willies.  I reflected on this as I waited for my casserole to bake.  (Stay positive, goddammit!  It's time to baste the biscuits with the garlic butter buttery spread!)

Reader, I'd like to tell you my Tuesday night experiment was a glittering triumph; that I polished off half the pan, the way I always used to.  In reality, this dish...made me weep.  And not in a good way.  Hubby came over and sat down next to me, having just eaten a BBQ chicken sandwich, and brushed a tear from my cheek.  It was the rice milk, he suggested, or perhaps the vegetable broth; we'd buy a different brand next time.  It would be okay. 

For a moment I remained inconsolable.  "I just miss...my flavors."  I do, indeed.  Everything is so unfamiliar.  Giving up the meat was hard enough without also forgoing milk, butter, eggs and cheese.  Faced with this challenge, one has to be creative, one has to be brave.  One has to try new things.  Doesn't one? 

In any case, I could only force down a few bites.  When you adore food as much as I do, cooking familiar things in an unfamiliar fashion is downright painful.  It sure looked pretty, though. 

Still vegging...

Dear Odd Broad,

Sprouted whole wheat is not your friend.  It is the devil.  Just thought you should know.

Sincerely,

Your Ass  

xoxo

Vegging out

I've spent the past nine days eating everything but meat.  Beans, lentils, vegetables, fruit, whole grains...Holy Fiber! 

Veggie burgers.  Who knew?  I didn't. 

My sister informs me my boycott of veg and dairy is downright "obnoxious."  But I've never felt better.  And without all that milk and cheese, my muffin top is performing a mysterious disappearing act.

So are my rolls of toilet paper. 

Fakin Bacon

Today I somehow got it into my head that I would try to become a vegan.  (What do you want from me?  I'm reading "Skinny Bitch" and I'm rather impressionable.  The chapter on the slaughterhouses made me cry.)

I can act...rashly at times.  To sum it up quickly, this morning I decided to permanently give up meat and dairy.  (And, while I was at it, coffee, Advil and wine containing sulfites.  I already don't drink soda or else I'd have given that up as well.)

Things were really zooming along blissfully until about lunchtime.  This is when I found myself slumped on a bench in Copley Square, listless and pale, with a splitting headache, feeling as if I was about to either fall asleep or faint.  What had I been thinking?

Back at work, I texted Hubby.  He texted me back: "Perhaps you should...ease into something like this."

Perhaps I should.  My husband is ever the voice of reason.

He texted me again: "Please take some Advil."

A moment later, my dear friend Gregg informed me he will force feed me a cheeseburger if I don't snap out of it by the end of the week. 

Tonight we headed over to "The Other Side" because I knew they'd have something meatless for me to nosh on.  It was there that I tasted my very first bit of "vegan cheese" and it was not an unpleasant experience.  It somehow tasted buttery.  Of course, it helped that it was smothered on top of tortillas and vegetarian chili.

The "Fakin Bacon" was a different story entirely.  It reminded me of the Pupperoni (Pup, Puperoni, PUP Puperoni) strips we used to feed my friend Laurie's Yorkshire Terrier when we were little.  Hmmm.  Needless to say, I could only get down a few bites of my vegan "B.L.T"...

"How do you know what dog treats taste like anyway?" Hubby wanted to know. 

No comment.

Goning on vacation...

The fortune cookies from our neighborhood Chinese restaurant certainly never disappoint:



Hmmm.  I do like horses.  (But not to excess.)



A spell checker might also be helpful.

The Problem

I'm not particularly proud to admit this, but for the past seven days or so I've stopped at Trader Joe's every evening in a serious but futile attempt to purchase one item and one item only: a bag of Chocolate Covered Peanut Butter Pretzels.  (Insert dreamy sigh here.)

Up until this time I was harboring under the delusion that my relationship with this snack treat was casual; non-committal, even.  How naive I was.

I never knew how much they truly meant to me until I walked into Trader Joe's one day and they weren't there.  Hmmm. 

I decided to inquire as to their whereabouts, in as disinterested and blase an attitude as I could muster.  "Um, do you think you'll be getting any of those chocolate peanut butter pretzel things in?"  I won't lie; upon doing this, I immediately reached a new low.  But they HAD to be somewhere on the premises, goddammit!  And my question wasn't so far fetched, since the employees were unloading a shipment as we spoke.  Couldn't they unpack those effing crates any faster!?

The guy disappeared to check with his manager while I waited in shame over by the tortilla chips.  He then returned and delivered the somber news that they did not, in fact, have any pretzels in stock; but they'd definitely be getting a shipment in tomorrow.

Tomorrow.  It seemed so very far away.  At least I'd only have to wait 24 hours.

The next day I left work with a spring in my step.  I'd even joked to my work friends about having been so desperate for my chocolate pretzels that I'd actually asked after them.  It was all SO hilarious.

They didn't have them.  Trader Joe's didn't f**king have them!  I stared in disbelief at the empty shelf, shaking my head to and fro.  The label was there, describing the item; the price was there, the only things missing were...my pretzels!  But...but...but...the kid said they'd be in today.  He LIED to me!  The sonofabitching bastard.

I had a very bad problem.

I went back the following day.  They were closed.  Well, I suppose it was the Fourth of July, and all, the celebration of our nation's independence, blah, blah, blah...

I had a monkey on my back.  And he was covered in chocolate.

Went back Sunday.  Nada.

Monday.  Zilch.

Tuesday.  Nil.  Goose egg.  Nuthin'!

Hubby, being the sweet, caring man that he is, offered to go out and fetch me something else.  Some other delectable snack treat, perchance.  He even suggested pretzels, chocolate and peanut butter might be a nice idea.  Ha!  I laughed scornfully.  That wouldn't even remotely be the same!  And I wasn't interested in any Nestle's Flipz, either.  I didn't want a cheap imitation of these pretzels, I wanted the real effing deal!  It was making me grumpy.  (And a little insane.)

By Wednesday evening I'd given up entirely.  Who needs 'em?  That sort of thing.  I even wondered if perhaps my memory wasn't embellishing their scrumptiousness, making them seem tastier than they actually were.  Was my admiration for them truly that mighty, or had their abrupt absence merely made my heart grow fonder?  I walked into Trader Joe's that night to pick up a few things for dinner and almost forgot to even check the shelf that was once home to that delightful high calorie treat. 

But wait!  There, collectively beaming up at me, were bags upon bags of chocolate covered peanut butter pretzels!  Oh, sweet Jesus!  It was a modern day miracle.  I nearly wept for joy.  I'd been presenting a brave face to the world at large, but now, at last, it was over. 

Serving size: about six pieces.  Calorie Content: 200 per serving.  I tried to stay within the six piece parameter but who the hell was I kidding.  I can't expect to be civilized when it comes to these suckers.  I offered to share with Hubby, but he politely declined.  Perhaps he doesn't want me to run out.  EVER AGAIN.

These pretzels are good.  Dangerously good.  Too good for their own good.  That bag is gone, having been eaten by myself in two sittings, over two consecutive evenings.  I marvel, even now, at my miraculous self-control.  I stopped at Trader Joe's tonight to pick up another bag.  It's all very casual, I'll probably just have one or two...I can stop at any time...I swear...

STOP JUDGING ME!!!!

The Message

Hubby was watching Sports Center the other day and couldn't believe his eyes.  The announcers made a Hot Dog Soup reference!  What the? 

Hot dog soup, as far as I've ever known, is a recipe my grandmother concocted many years ago.  It's tomato based and delicious and everyone in my family eats it.  We come out of the womb craving it, in fact; it's just sort of in our blood.  I've even dedicated a post to it. 

This had to be a sign from my grandmother.  There's no doubt in my mind she's enjoying a heaping bowl of hot dog soup in Heaven now as I write. 

Love you, Nanny. xoxo

When life hands you a rainy day, make chicken pot pie

The day was cold, rainy, and to top it all off, the Yankees were in town.  But I didn't care, I was making pot pies.  Every day can't be sunny and gorgeous, after all, and this one provided me with the perfect opportunity to turn on my oven.  (In June.)

I wouldn't exactly call this dish figure friendly, but hell, I'm on the wagon and need some comfort.  Bacon and puff pastry really seem to do the trick.  I use a recipe from Nigella Lawson that I've modified slightly.  I think you'll like it.  Hubby and I do.

Ingredients:
3 Slices of bacon, (Chopped or scissored into tiny pieces)
1 Package Frozen Ready-Rolled Puff Pastry (Thawed)
1 Container Baby Portabella Mushrooms
1 1/2 Cups Low Sodium Chicken Stock
1 Pound Boneless Skinless Chicken Breast (Chopped into bite size pieces)
3 Cloves Minced Garlic
2 Shallots, diced
1 Tablespoon Thyme (1/2 Teaspoon if using dried)
1 Teaspoon olive Oil
2 1/2 Tablespoons Flour
1 Tablespoon Butter
Salt, Pepper

Preheat the oven to 425 degrees.  Into a plastic freezer bag, add the chicken, flour, thyme, and a little salt and pepper.  Seal up the bag and toss.  Set aside.

Pour the olive oil into a large skillet (I use my dutch oven) and saute the garlic and shallots over medium heat, until softened.  Add in the bacon and cook until crispy.  (I usually take my time on this step because in our house we like our bacon crispy.) 

Stir in the mushrooms and cook until softened.

Add in the tablespoon of butter, then tip in the contents of the freezer bag (adding the chicken, flour and thyme.)  Stir everything around until the chicken starts to brown, about 3-5 minutes.

Pour in the chicken stock and stir; let the mixture come to a bubble and simmer until thickened, about 5 minutes.  (If needed, add in a little more salt, pepper and thyme, to taste.)

Take two 1 1/4 cup pie pots (or au gratin pots) and dampen the rims with water.  Cut thin strips out of the puff pastry and press around the rims.  (See picture above.)  Cut two small circles out of the puff pastry, for lids, and set aside.

Next, fill the pots with the chicken and mushroom mixture.  Dampen the puff pastry ring around the pie pots with water, and top each one with a lid.  Seal the edges with the prongs of a fork and bake for 20 minutes, turning them once halfway through cooking. 

They'll be piping hot when they come out of the oven, so if you have the self control to, it's a good idea to let them cool a bit.  I cannot tell a lie; I usually just go ahead and burn my tongue.  These pies are that good.  I could eat them every day, although I'm sure that's not advisable.  I also enjoy eating this meal with a spoon and a fork, because that's just the way I roll.

The next time the weather turns lousy, turn on your oven!  xoxo