Guilty as Charged

Although I usually disagree with Tucker Carlson on the issues, I still like him. I didn't always, but he's grown on me over time. I also miss his bow-tie.

I was just over at All Things Jennifer and came across a link to The Pessimist's Party by Tucker Carlson. Here's the best part:

Wondering if you’re really a Democrat? Here’s a quick way to find out: Given everything the Democratic party has going for it this year—the overwhelming financial advantage, the legions of new voters, George W. Bush—do you believe the Obama campaign could still somehow, in the final moments, find a way to blow it and lose this election?

If you answered yes, you're a Democrat.

Even after reading that, I'd still describe myself as "cautiously hopeful."

Chef Jess to the Rescue!

So, I just quit the freelance job that was a huge time-suck for me. This means I now have time to pursue things like food writing and private cheffing, which is how I want to spend my time. Unfortunately, when you have only one two-week gig on your resume, it's hard to convince people to pay you obscene amounts of money to cook for them.

That's why I've convinced a handful of my friends to give me an obscenely small sum of money to practice personal cheffing on them for a determined length of time, so I can beef up my resume, get feedback, and offer references to potential clients.

First up is Curly, who is on a healthy eating kick and wants some soups and dinners next week. Here's the menu:

Snack:
Roasted Garlic Hummus

Soups:
Butternut Squash with Kale
Creamy Lentil

Dinners:
Black Bean and Sweet Potato Stew
Miso-Glazed Salmon with Wasabi Mashed Potatoes and Sautéed Broccoli Rabe
Tofu Stir-Fry with Sesame Sauce and Soba Noodles
Veggie Burger with Sweet Potato Oven Fries
Roasted Vegetable Enchiladas

I'm going to take pictures and crap for my (coming soon) chef website. I'm going to post them here, too. I'm actually really excited!

I Need Your Help, Dear Readers

Sorry to abuse my blog in such a way when I'm barely entertaining y'all anymore. I'm working on two warm and fuzzy holiday articles, and I thought maybe y'all could help me out. Here are the details:

Article 1:
It's Not the Holidays Without...
What dish defines the holidays for you the most? For an example, for me, it's my grandma's ricotta cookies at Christmas. Everyone sneaks around before dinner trying to find them, everyone has tried to make them just like my little Italian grandma and failed, etc. If I didn't have them every Christmas, it just wouldn't feel like Christmas. Entrees and appetizers are also welcome.

Article 2:
A Holiday to Remember
Here, I'm looking for anecdotes about memorable holiday experiences. Like that time you got stranded in a snowstorm and couldn't make it home and ended up having the best Thanksgiving ever, or something else unexpected and wonderful happened. Or just a regular family get-together that ended up being extra-special for whatever reason. I definitely want to hear about the food, but more about how being with whoever you were with, or doing whatever it was you were doing, made it an occasion you'll always remember.

So, if any of you have any dishes or stories that you'd like to share, please send them to jess@blindcavefish.com before Friday! You'll be credited for your story, of course, and if you give me family recipes, your moms and grandmas will get credit, too.

P.S. I promise to be more entertaining really soon. I'm cohabitating as of yesterday, which should be hilarious at least some of the time. Also, I'm almost almost done with those stupid vampire novels, which will free up a lot of time for me.

Regarding the Twilight book Series

SPOILER ALERT: If you think you might read book #4 at any point in the future, this post will ruin it for you.

Me: I was so engrossed in Breaking Dawn that I missed my stop this morning. I have to know -- does Bella become a vampire in this book?

The Former Roommate: Why do you want me to tell you? You want me to ruin it? You REALLY want me to tell you, honestly?

Me: I HAVE TO KNOW

The Former Roommate: Yes she does.

Me: SHUT UP. Is that why everyone hates it?

The Former Roommate: You know, I honestly don't know why people hate it.

Me: By the way, TYM said that if there were a werewolf that was in love with me, and he could hear all of his dirty thoughts about me, and they were mortal (or immortal, I guess), enemies, no way would he give him to me as a wedding gift.

The Former Roommate: HA! I am pretty sure the boyfriend would have killed Jacob by now. Pretty happily. And maybe even decorated the lawn with body parts.

The Former Roommate: I wish someone would rewrite the books with a better vocabulary, and better dialogue. And with porn. You know, basically, like for adults and not 12 year olds.

Me: Yeah. I hated how vague the sex thing was. I wanted to know EXACTLY how Bella got EVERY SINGLE bruise.

The Former Roommate: Me too. And what's frustrating is if you read any M rated fan fiction, it's written by 12 year olds. "Then he totally did it to her."

Me: Ha! "He stuck his weiner in her vag."

The Former Roommate: "He put his thing in and moved it A LOT."

The Former Roommate: "Whoa!" he screamed. "My dong is exploding!"

The Former Roommate: I think we need to write some bad Twilight erotica and go read it at an open mic night.

Me: YES! Pretty limited crowd for that sort of thing, though. Like, maybe Mejack would come.

The Former Roommate: And Vix.

Me: So like, an open mic in one of our living rooms maybe. With just the one act.

The Former Roommate: BELLA: Ooh, your thing is so big. As big as a loaf of bread. Edward: MOAN MOAN Bella! Your jugs are perfect.

Nostalgia*

This morning, Meg sent me an email exchange we'd had in the week we first met, shortly after she crashed my birthday party at Grassroots and I informed her she was officially my new best friend. Here are the highlights, because they're funny.

Me:
Back when I was doing the online dating thing, I came across this guy who had every hair color listed in preferences except red. So I emailed him and asked him if he had a redhead aversion. I even said, look, I don't want to date you, I'm just curious. He didn't write back.

Meg:
That guy probably couldn't believe you didn't want to date him. "But, she's a redhead. Seriously, how choosy can she afford to be? This has to be a ruse."

I'm trying to think if I have any mass exlusions from my dating pool. So far, I have come up with:

1) Fascists.

You?

Me:
2) Republicans
3) Vincent Gallo

Meg:
4) My uncles
5) The homeless. Sorry. I'm a bitch like that. Where would we go to hook up?
6) Gilbert Gottfried

Me:
Am I the only one who didn't know GG did the AFLAC duck?

7) Flava Flav

Meg:
Yes.

8) Scientologists.

Me:
He was the first celebrity I ever saw in NYC. It was my first day
interning at VH1 and I saw him in Times Square. I was hoping for like,
Johnny Depp and I got Gilbert Gottfried.

9) Gene Simmons

Meg:
Mine was Teri Hatcher, pre-desperate housewives. During her slump. She looked quite the crackhead hovering outside of Cabaret (when it was running) wearing the tiniest tightest jeans that clung to her leg bones (which were the size of my wrists) and a huge fur coat. It was July. I was underwhelmed.

10) Sarah Jessica Parker

Me:
True story. My friend [name redacted] met [name redacted: all you need to know is he's famous] in a club, and he invited her to go back to his place and play Bend Over Boyfriend with a strap-on.

I would have gone.

11) Guys who like Coldplay

Meg:
I would have gone in a HEARTBEAT. Are the rules to Bend Over Boyfriend as easy as they sound? How does he feel about redheads?

12) Guys who use the phrase "Where's that at?"

Me:
I can only assume his stance on redheads is..."They can totally fuck me up the ass with a strap-on while my wife is out of town."

13) Guys who attend Star Trek conventions

Meg:
14) Guys who use babytalk in the sack.

Me:
15) Guys who won't let me fuck them up the ass with a strap-on.

Meg:
16) Guys who want to wear diapers and pretend that I'm their mother.

Me:
17) Guys who want to pee on me, or want me to pee on them.

Meg:
18) Any man who uses the word "bro" when talking to other men.

Me:
19) Any guy who uses the word "anywho." Seriously, I dumped someone
because of that once.

Meg:
20) Guys who "don't eat sweets, really." Seriously.

Me:
Who says that?

Meg:
I just have to hold on to the hope that somewhere out there there is a guy who will let me stick a dildo up his ass, who likes cheesecake, and who loves peeing in the toilet.

Me:
Pretty tall order. Talk about unrealistic expectations.

*Of the early days of my friendship with Meg. Not of dating. Shudder.

Private Cheffing, Day 3

When I first decided to give the whole private cheffing thing a try, I asked my favorite culinary teacher/mentor/gay boyfriend Elliott for advice.

Me: What if I suck?

Elliott: I sucked when I started out. I got fired from like three jobs. You'll be fine.

That comforted me, but it didn't prepare me for the anxiety I felt before donning that chef jacket for the first time in someone else's kitchen. On day 1, I mismanaged my time, broke a dish, and drizzled too much olive oil on the roasted acorn squash. On day 2, lunch went off without a hitch, but her dinner looked like something you'd feed your dog. If he pooped in your shoes.

My clients are an older couple who live on the Upper East Side. I make them lunch and dinner Monday-Friday. I serve lunch, leave dinner out for them and go home. They're mostly vegan, but they eat salmon once a week. They don't often eat the same thing, so I have to make two different dishes. They have separate refrigerators, and as I always make enough for more than one serving, I make it a point to check and see what got eaten when I come in.

I was full of apprehension today as I imagined her looking at her dog-food dinner and exclaiming, "I will not eat that!" It was a white bean and broccoli stew, by the way. His dinner was a pasta primavera. I tasted both before I left, and was wholly satisfied with the look and taste of the pasta, and with the taste, but not the look, of the stew.

Imagine my surprise when I checked the fridges and the stew was nearly gone, but the pasta had barely been touched.

"The stew was delicious," she exclaimed when she came into the kitchen for some tea. "It was perfect!"

I was happy that she'd enjoyed it, and even happier that I wasn't going to get fired for feeding her dog food. In my defense, I tasted it and it did actually taste really good. The ugliness came solely from the pot-to-serving-plate transfer, which didn't go nearly as seamlessly as I'd hoped. Still, I was bummed by the lack of interest in the pasta primavera. Until he made his kitchen stop.

"I'm feeling a little overwhelmed by leftovers," he said. "Let me look at the menu for the week." He then informed me to skip dinner tomorrow so he could finish the pasta primavera. I was elated.

After that, I calmed down a little. I am only a rookie after all, and rookie mistakes are to be expected. I couldn't have been happier today with my lunch of tomato soup and roasted root vegetables. And my dinner of tandoori vegetables and roasted vegetable stacks with tomato dressing looked appetizing enough to be served in a restaurant. The latter looked like cheeseburgers. You could say, I hit my stride. As it turns out, I don't suck nearly as much as I expected to at first.

Now, if I could only solve that problem of coming home after cooking all day and ordering takeout or making nachos, I'd be golden.