Recipes? I don't need no stinking recipes!

When I started cooking, I tried following recipes with mixed results. I can be sorta literal, so if a recipe said to cut a potato into 1/2" dice, I'd spend all day making sure each and every cube was the right size. Other times, there'd be a term I wasn't sure of (saute? Is that like fry?), or a cooking vessel that I didn't have (what the heck is a saucier pot?).

Back then, I didn't know enough to just wing it. So I'd either get frustrated and not cook or I'd get frustrated and cook and hate it. Frustration is not my favorite emotion, but I knew somewhere inside me was a cook waiting to get out. I just didn't know how to free him.

So I started making packaged foods, like flavored rice and sauce combos . And I'd add whatever was handy or sounded good. This usually meant ground beef, garlic, and corn went in every dish. And it led to experiments and discoveries that propelled me onward -- you’d be amazed at how many ways you can incorporate those three ingredients into anything!

Flash forward 20 years, and my wife's grandfather wants to put together a family recipe book. I've been asked to submit 6 or 8 of my favorite recipes. It’s flattering that her family thinks I’m such a terrific cook, but there’s a problem...

Recipes.

Four or five years ago, I actually wrote down some recipes for things I had been cooking a lot of, on the off chance I suffered a brain injury and couldn’t remember how to make one of my stand-bys. So in theory, I should have been all set. But since I wrote them down, I’ve hardly looked at them. And I’ve cooked many of them for the family.

So who knows if what I cooked for the inlaws is at all like what I wrote on those cards five years ago?

I’m going to include a disclaimer with my recipes, warning them that what they are about to make may not even remotely resemble the dish they remember me cooking for them.

And if they’re in doubt, they should just add ground beef, corn, and garlic. It worked for me!

One step closer to Burger Nirvana

Anybody who knows me knows how much I love hamburgers. And yes, I've complained on this blog before about about the absence of consistently excellent hamburgers in Eugene. An old college professor of mine used to say "Consistency is the hobgoblin of small minds." Well, call my brain Tiny then, because I am desperate for a burger I can count on, time and time again.

One of my favorite restaurants is a little burger/sandwich/neighborhood joint called Cornucopia. I love them so much, they catered my wedding. The restaurant has a real friendly vibe, a great beer selection, the only hush puppies in town (that I know of). And despite the popular complaint whenever I mention that I love Corny, I even love the service. It might not be the fastest place to get dinner, but I've been there dozens and dozens (and dozens) of times and may have had iffy service once or twice. I think they do pretty well.

Now, when asked, I'll name Cornucopia's burgers as the best in town. I usually do so hesitantly, because while they're really tasty and are made of good quality beef, their competition is so lacking in this town that they only have to be pretty good to win the Best in Eugene title (as they do every year). I've had burgers there that were over-done. I've had them under-done. I've had them so-so, and I've had them really good.

This weekend, I had one that reset my standard for what to expect in a Cornucopia burger.

My Wild Bill burger, 7/24/10. I almost forgot to stop eating and snap a pic

This was not my first Wild Bill Burger. I've had the half pound patty with bacon, cheese, and BBQ sauce countless times before. But this one was incredible. Grilled to perfection, dripping with sauce, after the first bite I knew I had something special. One of the things I really like about Corny burgers is the char they get on the outside, though sometimes, as I've mentioned, the char goes to far. Not this time - the burger itself was moist and juicy and cooked to my ideal medium-well. And it had that perfect crust on the outside that a burger gets when it's spent the exact right amount of time on the grill.

They always season their burgers really well at Cornucopia. But this weekend's burger was exceptional because while I tasted the seasoning and it was slathered in sauce, the predominant flavor was beefy goodness. Man that was a good burger.

Much to my chagrin, FoodGuy Jr. does not like hamburgers. He's not yet 3, so I'm trying to stay positive that some day he'll outgrow this unfathomable aversion. In effort to help speed his growth along, every time I eat a hamburger, I offer him some. While eating this particular burger, however, I didn't. I love little FoodGuy more than anything, but I was't going to take the chance that he'd chose this burger to try. When he likes something, the boy can eat. To risky.

So now I'm anxious to go back to Cornucopia. Mrs. FoodGuy will only go once a month or so. She really likes Corny too, but oddly doesn't seem to need hamburgers the way I do. She wasn't with FoodGuy Jr. and I this weekend, so there's hope I can get her there soon. And then we'll see if they can replicate my burger. If they can... if they can... It'll be the dawn of a new burger day in Eugene.

Maybe Someday Donuts Will Rule the World

It's no secret that cupcakes have been enjoying a renaissance over the last few years. Formerly a kids-only treat reserved for birthday parties, cupcakes became a trendy item to reinvent. All over the country, hip, fancy, gourmet cupcake shops started blooming, like cherry topped paper wrapped morsels of childhood memory. Where I live, gourmet cupcakes were Eugene-ified: ourDivine Cupcakes are organic and come in dairy free, wheat free, and vegan options. While I like a small cake as much as the next guy, I can't get fully behind this cupcake movement. They're kinda prissy. A little girly. A little little-girly, if you know what I mean.

My dozen (or so) donuts from Voodoo Doughnuts

But I'm not here to talk about cupcakes today. I want to talk about doughnuts. Doughnuts come from the same sort of humble place as cupcakes, but are far far cooler. And now, doughnuts are poised to take over where cupcakes will invariably leave off (any day now). And that will be a trend I can fully stand behind. And full I will be, because I've got one of the best doughnut supplies anyone can ask for, in Voodoo Doughnuts.

Voodoo is already leading the doughnut revolution with their crazy creations. They were a huge hit in their original home of Portland, Oregon, where hipsters lined up after the bars close for cereal covered doughnuts, bacon maple bars (with two or three pieces of real live bacon on top), and a doughnut called Cock-N-Balls that's shaped like, well... a cock and balls. And now they've come to Eugene.

First was a soft opening, when you pretty much had to happen by at the exact right minute in hopes they were actually open. Then they had announced hours, which did not coincide with any of my free time. And now, finally, they're open 24 hours so I can run over there on a whim and get my fix.

Now, about the doughnuts. I'm a cake doughnut guy, and I have to say their cake doughnuts were really good. I got a couple of basic chocolate ones, and the first thing that I noticed was they really tasted like chocolate. And the texture was soft and crumby, sort of like devil's food cake. Standing on their own, I'd call them high quality doughnuts. But what sets Voodoo Doughnuts apart are the aforementioned crazy flavors. I'm a huge fan of spicy chocolate in general, and the Mexican Chocolate doughnut did not disappoint. It's not often that I'm actually surprised by how spicy my dessert is. But it's a good thing when it happens. Delicious. My lips tingled and my mouth watered. Dipped in coffee it was doughnut perfection.

The raised doughnuts were frankly pretty average, in terms of the actual fried dough. But again, the flavors are where it's at. The Grape Ape is a raised doughnut with vanilla frosting and grape "dust." Their frosting is far better than average to begin with, and I don't know what grape dust is (maybe Kool Aid?), but I loved the combo. The maple frosting on the maple bacon bar was full of maple-y goodness. And the Raspberry Romeo's jelly doughnut had real jelly inside -- you could see the raspberry seeds!

Honorable mention goes to the apple fritters, which were also really good. I didn't try one until they were a day old, and I skipped heating mine up (as my friends did - and they RAVED), so I might have missed the window on those. Some of the others I tried, like the Oreo Cookie one, were flashy, but not completely awesome.

Miami Vice Berry, Mexican Chocolate, Maple Bacon Bar

They were all fun, though. And it was exciting to open that pink box and approach each doughnut as a brand new thing, never before tried. Worth traveling to Portland for? No. Worth waiting in line for 10 minutes for on a nice Saturday morning? You bet. Late night, post bar, slight buzz destination? Oh, for the days when that mattered to me... But yes, yes indeed.

Pastrami to Rival the East Coast's Best

As a Jew born in the Bronx and raised in New Jersey, I feel confident describing myself as an expert on quality pastrami. Now, pastrami differs from, say... bagels, in that inferior pastrami can still make a nice sandwich. Inferior bagels? They're just dinner rolls with holes and I won't eat them. So I've given up on bagels since moving away from New Jersey, but you'll occasionally find me noshing a pastrami sandwich. Usually with a disappointed look on my face.

Last weekend, the wife and I went to Portland, land of the cool, home of the hip. They should add Place of the Pastrami to what they tout as the city's claims to fame, because I had one (actually two) good sandwiches there.

the actual sandwich in question

This house brined and dried and seasoned to perfection sandwich at Kenny & Zuke's was the best I've had since I left home 20 years ago. It was sliced perfectly thick, so that it had bite and texture. Thin sliced pastrami is for weinies, if you ask me.

And it was peppery and garlicky and clovey, but not so much that any one flavor overwhelmed the other, or the meat. My only complaint? Not enough meat on the sandwich. Maybe it's just in my memory that pastrami sandwiches are piled three or four inches high?

Now, let's talk about their knish. If I closed my eyes and went by flavor alone, I would have thought I was eating a perfect specimen from my youth, done just slightly more upscale. The pastry on the outside was definitely better than a typical knish, flakier and butterier. But the potato was chunky, and while it was nice, it was jarring to my munch down knish-memory lane. But the real problem with it was aesthetic. See it up there, next to the sandwich? It's topless! Didn't look like any knish I'd ever seen before. It was darn good though, so my complaint is actually pretty petty.

Kenny & Zuke's pickles were really good too, and their rye bread was better than most I've had on the West Coast. They even have the two name thing going -- when I was a kid every deli in the suburbs was a two-guy name: Jerry and Harvey's (our family's favorite), Jesse and Davids... okay, maybe there were just two.

I love trying new restaurants, but the pastrami was so good at K & Z's that on our 24 hour trip to P-land, Mrs. Food Guy and I ate there twice. After our awesome lunch, I couldn't resist a breakfast sandwich of egg, pastrami, swiss cheese (hey, I didn't say it, or I, was kosher...) with a side of latkes. The latkes were tasty, though nothing to write home about.

But the pastrami? The pastrami... Consider this a letter to New Jersey.

Gluttony Strikes Again, or Sometimes Two Burgers are Better than One

Sometimes it's all about quantity. I hate to admit it, but it's true. I guess I can be a bit of a glutton.

image from toonpool.com

There are times when I just want to eat the biggest hamburger I can find, and I almost don't care if it's great, just that it's LARGE.

This weekend, for instance. The family and I went to a little place near our house. We'd been there a few weeks ago, and I hadn't been able to get the onion rings out of my mind. Every time I'd drive by, my mouth watered.

Now, this place isn't even really a restaurant. It's a independent bottle mart/convenience store with a grill and some tables. So I was wary of the hamburgers, which in places like this tend to be tiny little frozen patties. When I spotted a double bacon burger on the menu, I decided to take a chance. It might not be a great burger, but there will be a lot of it.

Turns out, the burgers were not tiny at all. And they wern't frozen either.

They were hand made. Beefy. Juicy. Darn good, I'd say.

And kinda big.

Confronted with this unexpected plethora of meat, I had two choices. Eat until I was full and then put the burger down. Or devour the whole thing, knowing that I'd regret it.

Which do you think I did?

Yup. Devour. And I when breakfast rolled around the next morning, I was still too full to eat.

So I just had a donut.

Thumbs Up Burger, Thumbs Down Fries

I had a really good hamburger yesterday, at a bakery/restaurant that used to be a church. It was a Cajun burger, with three big strips of bacon and two slices of nicely melted Swiss. The bun was firm, toasted just enough to add crunch but not crumble, and the burger itself was juicy and flavorful with the perfect texture. It was thick and oddly formed, which I liked. Everything about it said homemade with care.

But then I ate the fries.

Not the actual fries

If I wasn't in a former church, I would have said:

"Jesus Christ people, what's with the fries??"

I can't say I have much experience being in churches, but I'm pretty sure they don't like you taking their lords name in vain while you're in one. So I kept my mouth shut.

In my head, I swore like a sailor. A sailor who knows if you can make a good burger, you can make good fries.

Admittedly, steak fries aren't my favorite. I prefer a thinner fry, but I believe in variety being the spice of yadda yadda yadda and all that. I can embrace a thick fry when it's done well.

These were not done well. I'm pretty sure they were mass produced, probably purchased in a 50 pound bag marked Garden Variety Steak Fry.

I just don't get why anybody would go out of their way to make such a good, such a really really good burger, and then disrespect it by putting it on a plate with subpar fries.

It's just not right. It's insulting to the burger.

As luck would have it, Mrs. FoodGuy got a side of 1,000 Island dressing with her lunch, and it was so good it made up for the fries (when said fries were dipped in it, that is). Homemade burger, homemade 1,000, frozen fries?

Didn't make much sense to me, but then again, I was just a Jew eating a bacon burger in a church...

Turkey, The Other Other White Meat

I love turkey.

So what, you say? You're going to write a blog post about that, FoodGuy? I can't get to my back button quick enough...

Hang on there, friend. What I'm about to say next will shock you.

I love turkey more than beef!

I heard you gasp. Admit it. You're shocked! FoodGuy, who's on a lifelong quest for the perfect hamburger likes turkey more than beef? It hardly seems possible.

Sorry, but it's true.

I'm talking turkey breast here, too, which most people think is dry and tasteless. Just like me!

I disagree. About the common misconception about turkey, that is. We're not talking about me here...

Now, when hankering for a hamburger, it's doubtful that a turkey burger will do. But when you've got turkey and a barbecue and the right fixings? Well, a turkey burger is a beautiful thing. (Secret ingredient for a killer turkey burger: frozen spinach thawed, drained, and mixed into the meat. Trust me!)

Aside from burgers though, turkey rules in just about every way.

• It's better for you (not that that's always a consideration)
• It goes well with everything
• It's tasty, but it's flavor doesn't overwhelm everything else on your plate
• It's underrated (I've always been a champion of the underdog. See my future post about garbanzo beans).
• It's crazy versatile: roasted whole bird, breast fillets, ground like beef, pot-pied, boiled and made into soup, sliced thin for sandwiches...

I know, most of that can be said for beef too. But shut up about beef already, I'm talking about TURKEY.

The Club Sandwich Mouth Massacre

photo by Mike Eats Detroit

A club sandwich is a simple thing. Simple ingredients, simply prepared. But so dastardly and destructive, it should come with a warning sign.

Though truth be told, a big, bold print warning wouldn't keep me from eating a club sandwich when the mood strikes.

Even though I know what comes next. The Mouth Massacre.

Yes, much like my beloved patty melt (maybe I have a thing for food that hurts me, but more on that in another post), club sandwiches leave my mouth feeling like the Incredible Hulk's purple pants. Shredded.

I had a surprising good club sandwich this weekend. With a really surprisingly good order of onion rings to go along with it. Hm... I was going to write that despite the tastiness of that meal it wasn't worth the pain that's only recently subsided.

But I can't write that. Because recreating the meal in my mind just now has got my newly-healed mouth watering.

Screw it. Forget this whole post. Club sandwiches rule, bits of flesh dangling from the roof of my mouth be damned!

It won't be the last time I suffer for food.

If Only Eugene Were Burgertown

Eugene, Oregon has a lot of burger joints. A LOT. But despite my last post about hamburgers, I've yet to find a place that has consistently wowed me with their burger prowess. A one-off awesome burger is nothing to sneeze at, mind you. But if it can't be counted on, it just sets you up for disappointment.

Expecting excellence and getting mediocrity is worse than expecting mediocrity and getting it.

The newest player on the local burger scene is Dickie Jo's. Owned by a family that has done well for itself by offering quality local fast-ish food, this place is high on concept, but the burgers are only pretty good. Not awesome. Not terrific. Just okay. I had higher hopes.

I have been hankering for a special hamburger. One with a handful of french fries piled on top. With a spoonful of spaghetti sauce lovingly poured atop that. And finished with a slice of mozzarella (or even provolone). Melted and gooey. Mmmm... now THAT would be a burger to photograph. Might even be a burger to cuddle with.

I shall call it the CuddleBurger.
(not to be confused with Cuttlefish burger. Please!)

Burger Quest

I'm on a lifelong hamburger odyssey. I don't expect to one day find the perfect burger and then only eat that burger for the rest of my days. But I do feel compelled to try every hamburger possible, in the hopes of finding one that comes close to perfection.

This weekend, Mrs. FoodGuy and I had a FoodGuy Jr.-less date and went to Davis' Restaurant in downtown Eugene. I really like Davis', though their menu changes so often it's hard to predict what there might be to eat. In any event, it had been over a week since I'd had a hamburger, so despite my love for their Wild Mushroom Pot Pie (which used to come in a puff pastry shell that was SO GOOD and now comes in an only okay herbed pie crust...), I went with the burger.

Though I wish I had photographic evidence, this is not the actual Davis burger.

Now, sometimes I'm a little embarassed to order a hamburger in a place with cloth napkins. But I don't let that stand in my way. When a man needs a hamburger, he needs a hamburger!

On this night, I needed a hamburger. And rather than loading up on toppings, I decided to simplify. All that adorned my burger was swiss cheese and crunchy fried onions.

And it was good. Really Good. Really Really Good, as in, oh my god, this might be the one Good! It was like somebody had injected the burger with extra "ideal hamburger" flavor. It was beefy. It was cooked perfectly. The bun had a little texture to it, rather than being a mushy meat-handle. And I think the simple toppings let the overall deliciousness really shine through.

I had to offer a bite to Mrs. FG, though I didn't want to part with a morsel of it. Now, she's not the burger expert that I am, but she said it was the best burger she ever had. I hesitate to make such proclamtions, but if that wasn't the best burger, I'd have to put it in the Top 10. I'll need to eat at least two more Davis burgers to make sure it wasn't a fluke before I can say Top 5 (look for my post on my Top 5 burgers soon...)

Bake Off

Subtitle: Second Place is the First Loser

At work last week, my company hosted its annual Bake/Cook-Off. Since there was still a week left in my annual sugar ban (see post Going Hardcore), I was going to cook something good for you, like my low fat Chipotle Chicken Salad (which is so good you would never guess it's low fat!). For presentation, I was even going to stuff the chicken salad into cherry tomatoes (time consuming, but worth it 'cause they look so fancy!). But then Mrs. Food Guy convinced me to make my Not Just Chocolate Chip Cookies.

A partially eaten example of said cookie.

Now, I was hesitant. When Mrs. FG was pregnant with Food Guy Jr., I made batch after batch of these cookies, tweaking the recipe each time until I perfected them. The last time I made them was August of 2007, and we both remember that batch as the best cookies ever. So great idea, Mrs. Food Guy.

Except for one thing...

I never wrote down my recipe.

I knew the base cookie recipe I used, but all my tweaks were lost to the last year and a half of new parenthood. So already my confidence in the recipe was low. Feeling thusly, I started baking.

Then I realized I couldn't possibly bring cookies to a contest and not taste them. But I couldn't taste them, because it was Hardcore time! What to do?

So I caved. For the first time in the four years Mrs. FG and I have been Going Hardcore, I cheated and ate a cookie. Okay, two cookies. Okay okay, two baked cookies and at least one full cookies-worth of raw dough. And to be honest, they weren't even as good as I remembered.

I felt bad the next day to have cheated, I felt weak. My confidence now lower than before, I schlepped my plate of cookies to work, sure I was going to embarrass myself with my crappy cookies. Me, the baker who left the bakery to work at the software company, was going to be outdone by the my new co-workers.

My Medal

Given all that, I was tickled to take second place in the contest (even though, Mrs. Food Guy's opinion aside, taking second place is not the same as winning!). The winning dish was my favorite of the offerings that I tried (I did abstain from all the sweet entries), so I felt like I lost to a worthy adversary. And it was fun. I still don't feel good about cheating, especially since it also resulted in me drinking two beers the following night (somehow those beers were the cookies fault, I'm sure of it).

At least I managed to contain the damage to those two days, and now it's almost CAKE TIME again.

Clown Meat

Why?


If you look really closely at the sign, it says this is 80% Pork.  So that would make it:

• 3% Sawdust
• 3%Pigeon 
• 3% phlegm
• 1% Red Dye #40
• 10% Soylent Green

Fun Dip

An edible stick. Pure sugar in a waxy papery pouch. What could be better?

When I was 13, I spent my Saturdays working in the drugstore where my father was the weekend pharmacist. At the end of the day, dad would let me take one piece of candy off the shelf as a reward for my hard work (little did he know I spent most of my day eating whatever candy I could cram in my mouth between customers. I also stole cigarettes too, but that's a story for another day...).

Lik-M-Aid Fun Dip was the one candy I wasn't allowed to bring home. So of course, I just tucked a pouch into my jacket or backpack before the end of the day, chose my 'wholesome' Red Hots or Kit Kat, and went merrily on my way.

Fun Dip was great, because it came with three flavors of powder each in its own pouch. You could open one flavor at a time, saving the best (purple) for last (if you were like me), or you could mix flavors to make the green more palatable. And it came with two candy sticks for dipping, which I always thought was quite generous.

Here's what it looks like now (which is far slicker than looked in 1983)


More than anything, though, I remember plowing through a package of Fun Dip and having sugar burn on my lips and tongue from the rough texture of the candy.

Now the thought of eating a package of flavored sugar repulses me. Don't get me wrong, I still LOVE candy, but straight up sugar, eaten with a sugar stick? Now I know why it was the forbidden candy.

Burger Cake

Two of my favorite things finally combined.
Is it a hamburger?
Is it a cake?
It's a BURGERCAKE!!!!

Going Hardcore

Gosh Food Guy, it sure has been a long time since you've posted -- what's up? That's what you've been thinking, right?

Sorry, but it's that time of year. Mrs. Food Guy and I refer to it as "Going Hardcore." From January 1 to Valentine's Day, we remove all junk from our diets.

Now, don't confuse going hardcore with dieting. We typically eat pretty healthfully, but during the holidays we tend to get a little nuts. So we use the first six weeks of each year as a refresher course in eating well.

And we love it. It feels better to eat well. I miss cake, don't get me wrong. But when I do have a piece of cake or some candy on February 14, I appreciate it. A LOT!


So when you have a cookie, a Fire-flavored Twizzler Pull and Peel (they taste like FIRE!!!!) or a hunk of cake with extra frosting... think of me. Think of my pants fitting better. Think of me getting into working out again and knowing that come spring I won't be embarrassed to take my shirt off. Think of me happily eating dried dates for a snack and remarking aloud "Dried dates -- natures candy!"

And think of me scarfing up my Valentine's Day junk food with abandon, not thinking about any of those things.

Nuts to you

I used to hate nuts. Vehemently. Emphatically. So passionate was I about my nut hatred that it's actually kind of hard to talk about it in the past tense. It somehow became part of me... the guy who hates nuts.

Then one day I was out to dinner with Mrs. Food Guy. It was a fancy New Year's Eve dinner, in fact, which turns out to be fitting because of the new start it afforded me. It all began with a dish of green beans in a deliciously salty and sweet gooey sauce. Pan toasted whole almonds in the same sauce were tossed amongst the beans. The sauce was so good that when the beans were gone I resorted to something I never thought I'd do. I purposefully ate a nut.

And it was good.



It wasn't just the sauce. It was the nut. It didn't make me gag. It didn't give me the yucky shivers or make me want to spit. It was actually tasty.

Before I knew it I was trying almonds prepared other ways. How are they salted? How are they honey roasted? How do they taste slivered and blanched and tossed in a salad? To all these questions, I learned there I was one answer: They are GOOD.

Now, I'd always liked peanuts. So I thought, okay, so I like peanuts and almonds. What other nuts might not be repugnant? Cashews aren't too bad, I soon found out. Hazelnuts are actually pretty good too. Macadamias... eh. Pecans won't make me puke, but then again, I'm not exactly excited about them.

Turns out, the nut that is the grossest of the gross, the one that turned me off to all nuts, is the Walnut. Now THEY are gross! I still have that same visceral reaction if there's a walnut in my food. I can't even chew them -- if I can't spit it out without seeming juvenile or impolite, I have to swallow them whole. To nasty to chew.

I feel bad for all these other perfectly edible nuts, being tainted by the mere association with walnuts.

Belly -- in Anticipation

Maple ice cream with bacon sprinkles -- need I say more? 

I'm dining at Belly tonight. Yes, I said dining -from what I know of this place, one doesn't just eat there.

I don't know,  it might be a bit pretentious. But the logo is a pig. 

(not this pig)

And they serve ice cream with bacon sprinkles (or jimmies, if you're from New England).  I don't care how pretentious it is if this dessert is as good as it sounds.

The Bird is the Word

What would you do if you sat down to your family's Thanksgiving dinner, only to find the most important dish was missing? 

Maybe you look forward to the sweet potatoes with tiny melted marshmallows on top -- you start thinking about them, salivating at the thought of them, in September. Or maybe your mother made green beans in a specific way that nobody else can duplicate and if they're not on the table on Thanksgiving life will have no meaning. 

One Thanksgiving when I was around 19, my parents, brother, and I joined a family friend's family for Thanksgiving. I didn't think it could possibly be that different, or that I'd care if it was. But then they served ham. HAM! On Thanksgiving!!!!

It's silly, but I remember being just horrified when that ham was brought to the table. And I remember being mad, actually MAD at my mother for bringing us to this turkey-less place. What the hell was wrong with these people?

Now, I was a kid then, and as an adult I like to think I've grown somewhat more adaptable. It might have to do with spending Thanksgiving with assorted other people's families over the last 10 or 15 years. And with the fact that I've yet to come across another family who dared serve me anything but bird.

But this year, some family friends are joining my new family (in-laws galore!) for Thanksgiving. And there was a discussion about these friends bringing something to the feast. One offered stuffing, and I found my alarms ringing. Mrs. Food Guy's mother makes the best stuffing I've ever eaten, and it was like I was 19 again:

"NO, Don't let them change the stuffing... Anything but the stuffing!"

And that's when I realized it doesn't matter how old you are. When there's a meal you love and you only get it once a year, you just don't want anyone messing with it. 

So good luck, and may your friends and relatives chose another day to experiment with the menu.

Happy Thanksgiving!

A Creature (of Habit)

Same Old Same Old

I'm a creature of habit. As much as I love food, I'll eat the same old thing day after day after day without getting tired of it. I can do this for weeks. Months, even. 

When I was first out of college, I'd eat nothing but Lipton Rice with Sauce packets, with the occasional Pasta and Sauce thrown in just to keep things exciting. They came in all different flavors. I'd brown up some ground beef, dump it in the rice, throw in some frozen corn (gotta have a veggie) and consider it a feast. Sometimes I'd even broil up a loaf of supermarket garlic bread to go along with it. This was dinner, 5 nights a week. 

A few years later, I came up with another perfect routine -- the same three meals for dinner on a rotating basis. All purchased from Costco. All frozen. All delicious.

Meal #1: Frozen Cheese Ravioli and a half of a jar of whatever pasta sauce was available. Sometimes, if I was feeling REALLY crazy, I'd brown up some hamburger to go in the sauce.

Meal #2: Frozen Potstickers. They came with their own sauce. No muss, no fuss.

Meal #3: Frozen chicken Cordon Bleu. Breaded chicken stuffed with ham and cheese that oozed out if you over cooked it. 

I wouldn't dream of eating this way anymore, for a lot of reasons. 

I eat much healthier now -- my diet even includes many green vegetables. 

I like some variety.

My wife would kill me if I cooked frozen ravioli every third night...

But because I'm still such a routine bound person, I have the same thing for lunch just about every day. Almond butter and jelly on whole wheat. When the almond butter is gone, I switch to peanut butter for a jar. Then back again. 

I find odd comfort in knowing what's for lunch.

Instant Soup

For the first time in years, I had a cup of instant soup for lunch. You know the kind -- it comes in a cardboard cup. You peel back the foil lid and fill with boiling water. Cover and wait 5-8 minutes... That was hours ago, and I'm still not sure how I feel about it.

On the one hand, the soup was quite a step up from the old Cup o' Soups I used to buy. Today I had Dr. McDougall's Black Bean and Lime soup.

It was vegan and gluten free (thank goodness! Everyone knows gluten is the enemy... ahhh, I think I'll save my rant about the gluten-phobics for a later date). The ingredients were all actually pronounceable. If you're going to eat food that lives on a shelf and cooks in a cup, it's about the best you could do.

On the other hand, it was REALLY salty. And sorta sludgey. Obviously out of practice with such things, I thought I had stirred the heck out of it when I added the water. But apparently I didn't because I ate several clumps of wet seasoning that were a little disturbing. They didn't taste that bad, to be honest, but they were weird. And I might not have been patient enough to let it cook for the recommended time, so it was a little crunchy (which is not a quality I particularly enjoy in my black beans).

But I sorta liked it. 

I'm so ashamed...