I’ve seen my fair share of birthdays over the years. Family parties at Chuck E. Cheese, or the ball pit wonderland that was Leaps & Bounds, slowly progressed to closing down bars with friends in the city. But this year seems to mark a new era. Dare I say it, perhaps one of adulthood. After all, I was reminded that I have “a lot of gray hair.”
The other night I was at a fancy shamancy dinner and was chatting about best meals to cook with a date. This conversation was with a man in his 50s who identified himself as a trophy husband, a career goal not too far from my own. He asserted that French cuisine was the best, since Italian and Mexican are common flavors. The last thing I want is my high-achieving future wife to think I’m common.
While some of my friends take Sunday Funday to be brunch and boozing, for me it means culinary project day. Eventually, I’ll start planning the week’s meals. Once that occurs I can truly become someone’s doting house husband.
Sunday night’s supper (a word I’m bringing back) involved homemade salsa verde and spice-rubbed chicken breasts. The result: best tacos I’ve had this year. Bonus for you, it’s hella simple. We will have to wait to see how successful it is as wife bait.
Some view this habit as a weird quirk. I no longer ask people if they mind. I just whip out the phone and snap some close ups.
Posting the shots on every possible social network has led friends to think I’m a rock star chef. But there’s a greater benefit.
No longer do I have to wonder “when did I make that chicken?” I simply check my feed and learn that I better eat it today or roll the dice on killing myself with spoiled meat.
So go ahead and start snapping food pics. It’s for your health.
I’m not opposed to abstaining from eating meat. Occasionally I’ve been known to eat a salad. But for Lent, I turn pescatarian for Fridays. And for Jesus.
There must be some hormones in chicken and beef that are getting in my way of knowing Jesus better.
These 40 days often turn into a dieting extravaganza. I view the dietary restrictions as a cooking challenge.
Start some water for rigatoni, peel shrimp and heat butter in a small frying pan.
Shrimp take no more than 5-6 mins to cook which gives you more time to:
Text message your ladies
Count your protein intake for the day
I heated a tablespoon each of olive oil and butter over low heat. You don’t want the pan screaming hot like searing other meat. Shrimp protein is different and will produce a chewy shrimp if tossed into an über hot pan.
Place the shrimps in the pan. Chop up one clove of garlic. Add to the party. Harlem shake the shrimp around. Add red pepper flakes, oregano, salt and one chopped chipotle pepper. Toss to incorporate.
Drain the noodles and combine with spicy shrimps.
Quick dinner before hitting the discotheques. Enjoy.
Traipsing around Lincoln Park after a show at Lincoln Hall, my posse and I wandered into a sports bar that appeared to be crowded. Upon further investigation, the bar was populated by undergrads extending their night after a formal.
I like to envision my dating life as a nature documentary.
Observe the single white female…sitting alone. Abandoned by her flock. She stares off into space, then laps mouthfuls of beer.
She was lounging in the bar is if it were her living room, her boots resting on an empty chair, when we entered the establishment that smelled of popcorn. I walked across the sticky, popcorn-littered floor and asked what she was watching.
“Top 10,” she replied.
Bonus. She speaks and comprehends English! Check.
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“Is there anything you don’t eat on a tortilla?” a friend commented on a recent food pic.
Looking through my food-heavy feed on instagram I realized the common theme: tortillas and carbs.
I recall learning about the food pyramid but my journalism background may have led me to invert it and consume an ungodly amount of carbs and whole grains. Thankfully my Italian metabolism destroys them like pac-man chomps ghouls.
Previously, I claimed there were only three things preventing me from being the next Bachelor:
- larger pecs
- being a douche
No matter how many times I go out and drink to the wee smalls, I often neglect to get that fourth meal to absorb that devil juice that makes me talk to random people at bars. This often leads to massive starvation when I wake up wondering just how many lemmings are hammering away inside my head.
After taking my morning after pill (Tylenol), I make some cereal to feed the whiskey beast in my stomach. Then I find it best to go slumber for a spell. Today I worked on an egg variation including hot italian sausage, red and bell peppers. Eggs are fantastic for their versatility. You can put almost anything in eggs. Anything. Even Tylenol.
For this hangover creation, I browned the sausage, red onion and peppers for about 5-6 minutes. Dumped it onto a plate once it was done. Then melted butter in my skillet. Once the butter was bubbling, I poured in two fork-beaten eggs. After moving the eggs around with a wooden spoon and allowing the runny egg into the created crevices, I added the sausage mixture back in, then folded the egg on top of itself.
Turn your phone off. Make some toast. Eat. Go back to sleep swearing off alcohol.