A sappy interlude (birthdays)

I have been floundering to come up with a good subject for a rant, and as I approached my 26th birthday I thought maybe something birthday related would be appropriate.

I thought about delving back into the old Ice Cream Cake Debate of '06. For those unfamiliar, there are some people out there (and even readers of this blog!) who do not recognize the marriage of vanilla and chocolate ice cream, cookie crumbles, and frosting into a beautiful cake form. In their eyes, ice cream cake can only exist between ice cream and cake. It's amazing this kind of attitude persists in the year 2013. But, I digress. I am not trying to open up old wounds.

I also thought about ranting about cupcakes. The best part of cake is the middle, and with a cupcake you are getting mostly dried out edge! Not to mention they try to give you three parts sickeningly sweet frosting to one part dried out cake and pass it off as gourmet. Just give me a slice of moist cake over a cutesy cupcake any day.

I could rant about people who decide their birthday should be celebrated multiple times over the span of days or weeks and drag everyone around them into their ongoing birthday nightmare.

But none of those rants seemed substantial enough to do the subject of birthdays justice. Of course, with those ideas aside my mind just went to a dark place, thinking about the inexorable march of time, my youth slowly slipping away like sands through the hourglass, that "happy birthday" email from the kind people at OkCupid reminding me of the certainty of dying alone, and the fact that I probably was wearing the same sack dress on this day three years ago. Time keeps passing and nothing changes.

But my icy heart was so quickly melted by the outpouring of love from all the people close to me. Family, friends, people I work with, all giving me sweet and heartfelt birthday wishes. Even people I don't know well at all taking a moment to post on my Facebook wall warmed my heart. It is so easy to pass that off as insignificant, but for even just a second those people were thinking about me and some memory of our friendship or acquaintance. Not to mention the wonderful gifts (my sister gave me a himalayan salt lamp and a caftan that my nephew told me looked like a princess dress!) and celebrations in my honor. Maybe not much has changed, but if nothing else the past year has been filled with lots of quality time with some great people.

Yesterday my family and I celebrated the birth of my new niece, and for years to come her birthday will remind me just how much can happen in a year. What a wonderful start to a new year filled with new experiences, good and bad, boring, exciting, and most importantly shared with all the important people in my life. Thanks everyone for a great year and many more to come.

Consistent mediocrity: the rotisserie chicken

 

As a blogger with a CSA, you better believe I started this whole endeavor with every intention to post pictures of my food. But, seeing as this is a "lifestyle blog" that chronicles my own personal brand of lifestyle, I think it's only fair that that my posts are an accurate reflection of my existence.

Sure I have a refrigerator full of farm-fresh vegetables just waiting to be cooked up into an elaborate and nutritious feast, but as I was dragging my body back to my car this evening after a long day at work, I knew what was on the menu: rotisserie chicken remnants.

I'm so tired of ambition in nearly every capacity, and certainly when it comes to cooking. That's the beauty of the rotisserie chicken- it's nothing special, there's no sense of accomplishment when you sit down to eat, but it's better than a sharp stick in the eye. And, at five bucks, what a bargain! In this crazy world where we're all just trying to get by while keeping our souls from getting crushed too badly, it's nice to know that something like a rotisserie chicken will always be there.

The rotisserie chicken possibilities are essentially endless. You can warm it up, you can make a sandwich, you can pick the last remaining bits of meat off the bones for a stir fry, and when you think there's nothing left, you can make chicken soup. For today's serving suggestion, I recommend just keeping it simple and pairing it with some lettuce and tomato on a stale chunk of leftover baguette. Bon appetit!

The latest salt craze sweeping the nation

A friend of the blog just alerted me to a trend referred to as "mineral block cooking" in which you can cook a slab of meat on top of a slab of "Himalayan" salt. This totally set me off unexpectedly. Luckily blogging has gotten me in touch with my rage and you, the lucky reader, reap the benefits!

I have a lot of issues with the latest salt trends. The most obviously infuriating is the supposed healing qualities of so-called "Himalayan salt lamps". When I first learned of these things I was incredulous that this salt could possibly actually be imported from the Himalayas. It would be downright irresponsible of me as a well-respected blogger to go off on a rant without fact checking, so I have to admit that according to Wikipedia, this "Himalayan" salt is actually imported from the Khewra Salt Mine in Pakistan, the second-largest salt mine in the world.

When I'm wrong, I say I'm wrong.

That said, there is no way putting a AAA battery-operated light inside a block of salt is going to cure what ails you. I'm all for some pointless rituals to get some good vibes going in your home, but whatever happened to just burning some sage instead of shipping a heavy rock that someone literally toiled all day in the salt mines for halfway across the world?

Now, I won't dispute that cooking with salt makes food taste great, so by extension cooking something on top of a giant block of salt probably will make food taste good. But I still have a lot of problems with this scheme. Ideology aside, how on Earth do you wash a salt block that you have cooked a bunch of raw meat on? Doesn't it dissolve? Basically, this whole concept is dumb and these people should just cook their meat in a pan and put a ton of salt on it like the rest of us.

But before you reach for your gourmet-organic-artisan salt blend (you know, that stuff that comes in a weird grinder container), I'm not through yet! I hate that stuff too. I'm no chump, and if I have to go through the extra work of grinding my salt into small particles and pay more for it, something doesn't add up. Salt is salt, if you ask me. Good old sodium chloride.

Now, I'm no monster. I love a good pretzel complete with big grains of kosher salt. I'll even recognize that there's probably a fancy imported salt out there that's super tasty in some recipe that involves handmade caramel or truffle butter or something like that. I have a sophisticated palate. But when I'm making up a couple fried eggs for dinner on a Tuesday night, you better believe I'm sprinkling them with old-fashioned table salt.

There may be some fancy salt fans out there who would say "But Nicky, that processed salt out there doesn't have all the minerals I need, and the way it's processed is so unsustainable!" To them I say, your energies are probably better spent coming to terms with your own mortality and the near-certain destruction of planet Earth at the hands of the human race. In the meantime, take a multivitamin and cancel the 2-day shipping order on your Himalayan salt lamp.

Half-assed movie reviews: Saturday Night Double Feature!

I know what you're all thinking, a gal like myself must have a pretty full dance card. The fact of the matter is when Saturday night rolls around, the only date I'm getting excited about is with a bottle of wine and some Netflix.

Last night was a great night for relaxing in my jammies and soaking in some cinema. I knew things were going my way when I saw Blackfish was playing on CNN. I had been excited to see this movie for a while, ever since I didn't get around to reading Death at Seaworld.

The movie definitely delivers when it comes to being disturbing. You will see plenty of footage of orca attacks (they really prefer to be called "orcas" over "killer whales"). The footage of sad orcas in captivity was pretty heart wrenching too. If all that wasn't disturbing enough, you will see SeaWorld trainers masturbate a killer whale and that's an image that will stick with you.

All in all, I enjoyed this doc. Disturbing footage aside, there were some very nice shots of majestic whales frolicking in the wild. Still, I couldn't help but feel like something was lacking. Maybe all the CNN commercial breaks spoiled the mood.

Rating: 3 stars

I was feeling pretty satisfied with my Saturday night after watching a new doc, but I realized it was only 9 PM so I headed over to Netflix to carry on the party. I was tempted to just watch Clueless for the hundredth time, which would have been great, but decided instead to ride the wave of enthusiasm for watching something new. I settled on Minnie and Moskowitz, one of the few not-so-depressing looking movies gathering dust in my queue.

This movie was so good! Easily one of the most enjoyable new movie viewing experiences I've had in months. This date scene had me cracking up so hard:

Gena Rowlands is so great, I loved her in A Woman Under the Influence and this performance is perfect too. Strong-Female-Lead city. This scene where Minnie is getting drunk on wine with her spinster friend Florence makes me want to start doing my hair up in curlers and take up smoking. Or maybe I just can't wait to become Florence.

If you're in the mood for a heartwarming romantic comedy but don't want the low self-esteem that comes with watching whatever they're showing on Oxygen on a Saturday night, I highly recommend "Minnie and Moskowitz". It's available on Netflix and the full movie also appears to be on youtube.

Rating: 4 stars

My new record collection

You really haven't heard the Sound of Music soundtrack until you've heard it on vinyl. It's
just a whole different experience, "The Lonely Goatherd" just takes on a totally new tone.

A while back, my sister was in the process of moving and was going to throw out her dad's old sound system. Her perfectly sane reasoning was that she was not going to use it and she had enough things to do without also having to orchestrate a meeting with a complete stranger who would want a dusty old stereo. Still, even though I don't even typically use fully functional headphones when I listen to music, it seemed a shame to just throw away what her dad would call "a fine piece of equipment".

It's vintage.

I thought about what my life could be like if I were in the possession of this sound system. I imagined sitting contentedly in our dusty attic, awash with the sweet sounds of the oldies station. I'd have torn myself away from trashy weekend TV to work on an art or craft project up there where I could play music with actual speakers. This imagery melded with the warm and comforting recollections of dancing around the dusty old speakers my dad used to have when I was a little kid. Maybe I'd even turn into one of those people hanging out in the Princeton Record Exchange and start talking to strangers about music. Really, this was my chance to turn into a fully realized version of myself.

Having convinced myself that this was a great idea, my brother in law helped me jam that thing into my compact car and I took it home, dusted it off and schlepped it up to our attic. I got it working for a whole thirty seconds before the receiver blew out. This left me with the dilemma I had so hoped I would not have to face when I took on the project: should I spend actual money on this endeavor?

Well, I marinated on that dilemma for a good few weeks before I broke down and spent twenty bucks on a new receiver. This was of course not before spending too much time on "vintage audio equipment repair" internet forums trying to figure out if I could fix this thing myself. The new receiver sat in its box for a few weeks before I finally got around to trying it out today.

Well, it works. That Hawaii Five-0 theme is just as catchy as ever. But there seems to be a buzz in the speakers, and the needle skips and I have fully lost steam on this project for today. I haven't given up on my attic music fantasies though, maybe I'll make it to the record store sometime soon.

You wear what you wear

Winter is upon us, and you know what that means: it's time to go shopping!

I don't know about you, but going out shopping more often than not fills me with dread. Now and then I'll make a trip out to the Sears clearance section, but by and large when I get the urge to consume, I hit the internet.

When I'm in the market for some new duds, I have a lot of requirements. Most importantly: they must be cheap. Ideally, I avoid bold prints in favor of solids, 100% cotton is the only way to go, and if I gotta have a waistband it ought to be elastic. Can anyone say "gray cotton knits"?

I don't think this is too much to ask, but the more affordable clothing purveyors out there don't seem to agree. Even if all these criteria are met, they'll try to pawn off some t-shirts on you that are so thin you have to buy two and wear them at the same time. What, do they think we're chumps?

That's why a place like hanes.com keeps me coming back for more. I don't typically rave about any particular product or company but I've been very satisfied with my Hanes purchases. They even have some schnazzy and comfortable dresses! Of course it goes without saying that they're the only company I trust when it comes to underwears.

I've got this gray classic sweatsuit waiting in my shopping cart, and I know when I finally pull the trigger on that extravagant purchase I'll just be giddy with anticipation waiting for the day I can dress up in my cozy sweatmobile. My only complaint is that it's nearly impossible to reach the free shipping threshold of $70. That's a lot of underwear! So if any the big shots at Hanes.com are reading this, take note. Or you could help a gal out with some nice discounts, I will gladly turn this blog into one big Hanes ad.

Happy shopping!

P.S.- From what I understand, all of my adoring fans out there can get email updates so that when it takes me weeks to update you will be kept abreast of all my hanes.com purchases. I guess all you have to do is put your email address into that box on the upper right-hand corner of the page. I make no promises that doing so will not also add you to some sort of more sinister list. But by all means "subscribe"!

A word on "coating"

If you have ever heard me go off on one of my rants, there’s probably a 50% chance I was ranting about the coating on French fries. French fries really are a perfect food, but there is a plague that is destroying the virtue of the classic fry, and that plague is what I would call “coating”. I remember my first encounter with French fry coating like it was yesterday. We would often stop at Burger King on the way home from school and buy a couple orders of fries with the change we could scrounge up from the floor of the car. They were no McDonald’s fries but they were pretty good. Then one day, everything changed. That once magically simple crispy saltiness was now tainted with some sort of mysterious, more soggy than crunchy, oddly seasoned coating. Since that fateful day I have learned that ordering fries at a restaurant is like playing Russian roulette, and odds are by the time the evening is through you will have regretfully eaten too many unsatisfying fries.

Tonight I took yet another French fry bullet. The culprit was a neighborhood family pizza joint called “Chuckles”. These fries were the worst of the coated worst. The meatball sub was better than a sharp stick in the eye, but they could stand to use a crustier roll. All in all, they are on my fry blacklist and I am unlikely to go back for more.

Stay tuned for many more French fry opinions. Don’t fall off the edge of your seat!