Marie Claire can kiss my ass. Also, Huevos Rancheros.

Mexican food and I have a little problem, namely, that I always want Mexican food. I have not, to date, found a solution to this problem that doesn't involve obesity. I'll let you know if I do. 

I feel a little badly even classifying this as a recipe, since it's really just putting things together without doing much to them. And I used food from both a bag and a CAN. But I get a lot of bitching about how my food looks good but no one would ever make it because it takes too long (true), so I'm counting this as a recipe. 

Speaking of shit that should not be considered a recipe - TANGENT TIME!

Want to know what Google search has really sad results? "Healthy meals for one person."

The only two recognizable webpages that came up in the results were AARP and Marie Claire, and surprisingly, the Marie Claire article was the more offensive of the two. 

It starts, "You all know her — or maybe you are her: the woman at the grocery store pushing a cart filled with Lean Cuisine meals, Pria bars, kitty litter, and a box of Tampax. She might as well be wearing a neon sign that flashes, "Alone, alone, ALONE!" 

Uhh... F you too, Marie Claire.

And then, THEN... this. 

"Chocolate-Peanut Butter Milkshake

1 cup chocolate ice cream

2 Tablespoons peanut butter

1 cup milk

Combine all ingredients in a blender and blend until smooth"

Are you kidding me? ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! GAHHHHHHHHHHHH! That is NOT a recipe.

I'm single, not a f%!*ng idiot. Or an 11 year-old. I've never read an article that dripped with more unnecessary pity in my life. 

The good part of this is that now I have a new life goal - to destroy Marie Claire. 

[PS - that's not really true. I don't even know how I would do it. I don't read it, so it's not like I can unsubscribe. I don't know anyone else who reads it either, so I can't even tell other people not to subscribe. Now that I'm thinking about that though, maybe I don't need to worry about it's destruction? Seems like its doing a fine job of sinking itself.]

So, back to this so-called recipe.

Don't hate me for explaining how to do something so simple, okay? And if you do, just remember that at least I didn't give you a "recipe" for a f&%*ng milkshake.

 

Huevos Rancheros with Refried Beans

You'll need:

• 1/2 16 oz. can of refried beans
• 1 6-8" flour tortilla
• 1 ripe tomato, diced
• 1/2 medium white onion, finely diced
• 1 jalapeno, seeded and minced
• 1 egg and 1 egg white (you can also just use 2 eggs, if you like)
• olive oil
• salt
• Any garnishes you like - sour cream and avocados would be my suggestions
• Cilantro, if you like its shitty soap taste (I, personally, do not)

Combine your tomato, onion, and jalapeno in a bowl. I used 1/2 my jalapeno and it was a little mild for me. I'd use the whole thing if you like spice. Sprinkle with salt, mix together, and put it in the fridge. I strongly prefer this fresh pico de gallo to a jarred salsa, but a salsa would work here if that's your thing. It'll be wetter, saltier, and will lack some texture, but it's up to you. Just don't bitch if you use jarred salsa and then don't like my recipe. UP TO YOU.

(Don't disappoint me.)

Heat 1 tsp or so of olive oil in a skillet over medium heat. Once hot, put your tortilla in. Once it's browned, flip it. When it's browned on both sides, take it out and set it aside. 

Turn the heat on your skillet down to medium-low. Add another teaspoon of olive oil. While you're waiting for you pan to cool a little and your oil to heat, heat up your refried beans. I used the microwave - fancy. 

Once your pan is ready, cook your eggs. I used 1 egg and some additional egg white, but you could use a single egg or two whole eggs if you like. I cooked mine over hard (runny yolk is repulsive), but if you like them over easy, this recipe would suit them well. 

Once you've fried your egg, layer your beans on top of your tortilla. Top with egg and pico de gallo, along with whatever garnishes you'd like. I added some light sour cream and some creamy avocado-lemon dressing I had made the night before. 

And this meal, folks, serves ONE. One happy, stable, independent, not at all stupid person (ahem, Marie Claire). 

Recipe without being peppered with my insecurities can be found here. 

40 Days and Spring Quinoa with Lemon and Peas

Uhhh yeah. Sorry about the absence.

But I've done something. And it's either going to make or break me.

I'm a pretty frequent yogi. By 'pretty frequent' I mean that I go through spells where I go a few times a week for a couple months and then fall into a pattern of putting on sweatpants and laying down after work for the next 6 weeks, covered in potato chip crumbs. Toe-may-toe, toe-mah-toe.

I have visions of being this delightfully lithe, calm, glowing woman, and yet I can't seem to get it to materialize. (Note: this may be due to not actually trying.) About a month ago, in a moment where I was feeling particularly adrift, I decided to go after that image. Hard. 

My local Baptiste-style power vinyasa began advertising a 40 Days Challenge. For 40 days, you commit to doing yoga 5 days a week, plus one studio-supplied workshop on nutrition or poses or meditation. I hemmed and hawed for a week or two. Finally, the thin, strong angel yogi on the my shoulder shoved the potato-chip crusted devil out of the way and I signed up. 

In case you care, I'm 4 days in and its going well. I had a brief moment where I felt like my arms had fallen off, but that seems to have passed. My posts for the next few weeks may be shorter and less frequent, but I'll stick with you. And if anyone wants to follow along at home, I encourage it. Let's see who we are 40 days from now. (Note: probably still hungry and full of sass. I hope)

Let's kick things off right with a little Spring Quinoa with Lemon and Peas.

You'll need:

• 1 tbsp olive oil
• ½ medium white onion, diced
• 2 cloves garlic, minced
• 1 ½ c frozen (or fresh) peas
• ½ c vegetable stock
• 2 tbsp sour cream
• 4 tbsp lemon greek yogurt (I prefer Chobani)
• 3 cups cooked quinoa (I did mine in the rice cooker using a 1.5 water : 1 quinoa ratio)
• 4 radishes, thinly sliced
• 2 tbsp fresh Italian parsley, minced
• ½ cup queso blanco, minced or shredded
• salt, to taste

Heat the olive oil in a deep skillet over medium heat. Once hot, add the onion and garlic and saute until translucent, 3-4 minutes. 

Add the vegetable stock and peas, cook for 5-7 minutes until peas are heated through.

Mix in the sour cream and yogurt. Salt to taste.

Mix the yogurt sauce with your quinoa. You can heat your quinoa up first (which will melt the cheese), or leave it at room temperature.

Finally, add the queso blanco, parsley, and radishes. 

Serves 4. 

Less existential version found here.

Twenty-something awkward years and Yorkshire Pudding with Thyme-Infused Sweet Onion Gravy

I was always an odd kid. And teenager. And young adult. I'm still a little off. 

I remember when New Kids on the Block were big. I was in my friend Abby's mom's car on the way to her birthday party at a park. All the other girls were screeching about Joey and Danny and blah blah blah and I was thinking, "Who the heck are the New Kids on the Block?" I'm pretty sure I pretended to have an NKOTB sleeping bag because another girl did and that seemed to go over well. 

In reality I was sitting at home, wearing my Sally Jesse Raphael style glasses and my Alf t-shirts and listening to my beloved Tears for Fears CD. I remember asking for, and getting, an Annie Lennox cassette single in my Easter basket. "Walkin' on Broken Glass," in case that's what you were wondering. 

Now, I'm totally glad I was too oblivious to pick up on social cues and accidentally ended up liking actual cool shit instead. 

But back then, I just had no idea what it meant to be cool. I was smart, and quiet, and totally inept at sports and pop culture and cool things. I have very curly hair, which I brushed out every day. I played the clarinet. I have the eyesight of a mole, leading to my procurement of coke-bottle glasses at the age of 7. I participated in something called Winter Guard. My teeth were so crooked they looked like they had been tossed into my mouth at random, resulting in a few years of braces. I wasn't exactly Prom Queen. 

Let me demonstrate. 

"Rockin Alf," indeed. 

I also had some odd food preferences. Every year, my mom would make my brother and I whatever we wanted for our birthday dinners. Kids like kid things - chicken nuggets, tacos, macaroni and cheese. I, without fail, asked every year for roast beef and yorkshire pudding. 

So the other night, in honor of my many, many ugly ducking years, I decided to make some greasy, crispy, chewy Yorkshire pudding. And to go with it, a sweet onion gravy made from caramelized onions and infused with thyme. And it was DELIGHTFUL.

What was the big deal with NKOTB, anyway?

Yorkshire Pudding with Thyme-Infused Sweet Onion Gravy

Yorkshire Pudding recipe found here. I followed it pretty much - making the puddings in muffin tins with a pea-sized dot of Crisco in each one. I also used skim milk and egg substitute because it was what I had on hand. They were a little chewy, but still really good. 

For the gravy, you'll need:

• 1 medium white onion, slice into thin half-moons
• 1 tbsp olive oil
• 1 1/2 cups vegetable stock
• 3 tbsp flour (gravy flour like Wondra is amazing)
• 6-10 sprigs of fresh thyme
• salt and pepper, to taste

The key to this gravy is the caramelized onions. It takes a while, but they add a depth of flavor similar to what you would get from meat fat. Heat a skillet over medium heat. Add the olive oil and once hot, the onions. Stir occasionally until they are soft and brown. This could take up to 30 minutes. 

Once your onions are browned, stir in your flour to coat the onions. I prefer a gravy flour like Wondra since it never clumps and thickens right up. But regular flour will do you just fine. 

Add your vegetable stock and stir well. Then toss in your thyme springs - 10 will be pretty strong, so you may want to start with 6 and see how it goes. Bring the gravy to a soft simmer to thicken it and infuse the thyme. 

When it's thickened to your liking, season to taste with salt and pepper. If it doesn't thicken enough, add flour, a little at a time, until it's where you want it to be.

Take the thyme sprigs out - little leaves are okay, but you'll want to remove the actual stalks. 

I served this over Field Roast Apple & Sage grain sausages with my yorkshire puddings and a side of garlic brussels sprouts, and my inner 10-year old squealed with weirdo delight.

Serves 5. Alf-free version here. 

The crippling shame that accompanies frozen breakfast burritos.

I am not what one would refer to as domestic. I am in my 30's, I don't own a home, I can't knit, I don't have any kids (I have dogs I treat like kids, but that just makes me weird), and I don't shop from a list. 

Yeah, I know - I cook. Most people who say they're not very domestic can't cook for shit. But you see, while I cook all the time, I very rarely cook anything easy or practical. To me, cooking is supposed to be ridiculous. It's making dumplings from scratch at 9:30 on a Tuesday night or buying $40 worth of shit with the labels in Korean, not putting dinner on the table after work. I almost never do that. 

"But you probably do other things that are reasonably domestic," you say. I say probably not. 

Thursday night I had to attend an industry awards show with S. It's a somewhat fancy ordeal, with hairdos and cocktail dresses and things. I ran home from work and realized I had 1 hour to be ready. I put about 3/4 of a can of dry shampoo in my hair (which is the world's most amazing thing, if you haven't tried it), teased it until it could walk on its own, wrapped it into a 'messy bun' and then did my bangs in hopes that no one would notice I was wearing a coconut-scented tumbleweed on my head. 

You see, I was really counting on my dress to carry the brunt of my look. A few months back I bought two dresses for a formal wedding. The one I hadn't worn was sitting in my closet, tags still on. It's a pretty, dark green, sateen dress from French Connection with one shoulder and a bow and pleats and pockets and all sorts of delightful shit. 

Unfortunately, it was pretty wrinkled from being jammed in my closet for 4 months. Now - I have a steam cleaner, which works wonderfully to get the wrinkles out of nice fabrics. But, a) I had 15 minutes and b) I am a lazy asshole. Mostly B. So I decided to just use the steam setting on the $8 iron from Walmart that I keep jammed in the back of a cupboard, which I only own because I think adults are supposed to have irons.

I filled the water and turned it to the highest steam setting (FYI - this is also the highest heat setting. In case you're as dumb as I am). I got about half of the way across the skirt succesfully. Then that stupid piece of shit iron decided to stop steaming for just a moment, instantly melting a big, v-shaped spot in the crotch of my dress. 

COOOOOOOL. 

You'll be relieved to know that I didn't wear the dress.  Instead I wore a shirt I got for free, a $7 skirt from JC Penney, and some Naturalizers. It was better than it sounds. I think. 

Anyway - I'm not good at June Cleaver shit. And I'm not sad about it; I like to think of my skill set as urban and sophisticated. 

Yet, I did something terrible the other day. Not at all urban or sophisticated. In my quest to eat something reasonably healthy and quick for breakfast on weekdays... I made a set of freezer meals. 

You might not think there's anything wrong with freezer meals. But I have this image of the person who makes freezer meals in my head - they have a bob and wear button-downs and khakis and drive a mini-van and don't find those bracelets from Pandora to be a crime against humanity.

I am not a freezer-meal person.

I do yoga and have beachy hair and know what jicama is.

I AM NOT A FREEZER MEAL PERSON.

But then, it turned out that freezer breakfast burritos are f-ing awesome. And I just couldn't keep something like that from you. Pride be damned. 

I give you Make-Ahead Freezer Breakfast Burritos.

Heavily adapted from Bits of Everything.

These bad boys pack some legit stats: 262 calories, 4 g of fat, 7 g of fiber, only 10 mg of cholesterol, and 16 g of protein. THAT is BREAKFAST, bitches. 

You'll need:

• 8 large flour tortillas (I used La Banderita large soft taco tortillas)
• 1 red bell pepper, diced
• 1/2 a white onion, diced
• cooking spray
• 1 tube (14 oz) Gimme Lean sausage
• 1/2 tsp salt
• 1/2 tsp pepper
• 1/8 tsp red pepper flakes
• 1/2 tsp smoked paprika
• 1 cup shredded queso blanco (drop or sub the cheese to make me vegan!)
• 2 cups frozen shredded hash brown potatoes

These are pretty easy, especially compared to my usual ridiculousness. You'll need one big skillet, some paper towels, and some freezer bags. 

Cut the tube of sausage into discs. It's MUCH easier to do this with the wrapper on. Just use a serrated knife to get through the plastic packaging. Remember to remove the plastic before you cook it (or don't, I don't care really).

Heat the skillet over medium heat and give it a generous spray of cooking spray. Cook the sausage discs until browned, then flip and cook the other side. Set them on paper towels to cool. 

Using the same skillet, add more cooking spray and saute the onions and peppers until translucent. Season with salt, pepper, smoked paprka, and crushed red pepper.  These bastards are SPICY. You may want to take it down a bit if you're not into spice. Add the hash brown potatoes, stir well, and cook until the potatoes are done, about 5 minutes. 

 
Dice the cooled sausage into little pieces. Add it to the pepper/potato mix and transfer the whole thing to your assembly area. 

Scoop 3-4 large spoonfuls of filling into each tortilla. Top with some cheese and roll 'er up. If you're unfamiliar with how to fold a burrito so that it doesn't bust open and go everywhere, here's the idea:

Put your filling in a line toward one edge of the tortilla.

Fold the sides in, and then the back edge closest to the filling.

Wrap that edge all the way over the filling and tuck it underneath.

Fold the sides in again and continue rolling until you're finished. 

Fold a paper towl in half and wrap the burrito in it. Place the burritos in freezer bags and you're in business. When you're ready to eat them, just heat for a minute in the microwave, flip it and go for another 30 seconds on the other side, and jam it in your face.  

Perfectly domesticated recipe here.

"The Incident" and Asparagus Pistachio Pasta with Sherry-Balsamic Sauce

I went to dinner with some girlfriends last night. I feel like I've been stupid busy lately and haven't gone out in a while, so I decided to actually put some effort into my appearance. I even wore a skirt, which is equivalent in significance to LiLo's decision to return to red. 

[She did, and it's deligtful. Not "Mean Girls" delightful, but a big improvement over the 'Crack Barbie' look she's been rocking for so long.

See?]

[I know - the transition there wasn't great, but when I tried to think of something really significant yet superficial and stupid, that was all I could come up with. So, deal.]

Anyway, I was wearing a skirt. It was not long, but not really short either, and made of a light, swingy material. The thing with light, swingy material is that it's hard to feel when you're wearing it. Meaning, at any point in the night, my skirt could have been up around my waist and I wouldn't have known it. You might think, "Why the hell is she worried about that? What kind of idiot can't operate a skirt?" 

Uhhh - this kind of idiot. 

Once upon a time (known to some as "2011"), I worked at an advertising agency. It had a cool floorplan with big open workspaces and a large staircase that went from one floor to the other. The stairs were simple - slats with no backs or big railings so that they didn't ruin the feeling of uninterrupted space. 

I have a skirt that I got at Topshop in London years ago - It's shin length and coral and flowy and hippie and I love it. I've worn it consistently for almost the last 10 years. It's simple and fun and an article of clothing that always made me feel happy when I wore it. 

Used to, anyway. 

I wore the skirt to work one day. On my way to a meeting, I stopped at the bathroom. I did my thing, checked my appearance in the mirror, and headed out.

[Now, the trouble with long, flowy skirts is that they have a lot of material. A lot of material that can look totally normal from the front, yet have some issues of serious concern going on in the back.] 

So, I headed out - 

through the top floor

down the open staircase that looks out over the ENTIRE lower floor

and INTO A MEETING

[you know where I'm going]

all with my skirt stuck into the back of my underwear. 

Full moon, on display. 

Thank god for granny panties.

[I never thought I'd say that.]

I managed to sense that something was awry as I walked into the conference room. I covertly slid along the wall, hands behind my back, frantically tugging the material back to its proper place. And turned bright red for the next half-hour.

To this day, I have no idea if anyone saw or not. My guess is that someone did, but felt too bad to say anything. Or laughs every time they see me. Whichever.

With that, I give you Asparagus Pistachio Pasta with Sherry-Balsamic Sauce.

Ingredients:

• 1 bunch of asparagus, about 1 1/2 cups once cut up
• 3/4 cup of pistachios, shelled and chopped
• 3/4 cup of sharp cheddar, shredded
• 1/2 lb of mini rigatoni or other short, reasonably small pasta
• 2 tbsp of butter
• 1/2 white onion, diced
• 2 cloves of garlic, minced or pressed
• 3 tbsp sherry
• 2 tbsp balsamic vinegar
• 1 tbsp red wine vinegar
• salt and pepper, to taste

Instructions:

Cook your pasta according to the directions, keeping it on the al dente side. 

Prep your asparagus by snapping or cutting off the woody ends. You can find the right place to cut by holding a stem and bending it lightly until it snaps naturally. The spot where it snaps off is about where you should cut.

[Now, don't be an asshole about this. If you grab it on either end and wrench the ends down, it'll just snap in the middle. It's a vegetable, not a 2x4. Be sensible - hold it toward the base and bend it GENTLY.]

The thinner your asparagus, the less you will need to remove. With asparagus, thinner = better. I try to find it about the size of a pencil if I can.

Cut your asparagus into 1-inch pieces.

Now, you can toast your pistachios or not. They're not a very greasy nut, so I find that toasting them is nice, but doesn't make a big difference like it does with walnuts or sesame seeds. If you want them toasted, they'll do it quickly. 3-4 minutes over low heat in a dry skillet is all you'll need.

Melt your butter over medium heat in a large skillet. Add your onion and garlic and saute until the onion is transparent, about 3-4 minutes. 

Add the asparagus pieces, sherry, and both vinegars. Continue to cook over low until the asparagus is just cooked through, 7-10 minutes.  Season with salt and pepper, to taste. I find that using them both a little more generously than I usually do works well in this dish. 

Add your asparagus and sauce to the pasta and mix well. Top each serving with cheddar cheese and pistachios. 

Makes 4 small servings or 2 awesome, large servings. 

[Seriously? Wouldn't everything that made 4 servings also make 2 large servings? I AM A MATH GENIUS.]

Ass-free version of this recipe here. 

The interwebs saved me from becoming a cat lady and ddukbokki (spicy Korean rice cakes).

I am, by nature, a very nervous person. I am particularly afraid of heights and ghosts. I have never done a cartwheel. I worry about things that will never happen (clearly, since I just admitted that I'm afraid of ghosts) and scare myself out of trying new things. 

The weird part is that I also really, really like the idea of new things. I particularly love to travel. And I hate to look like a tourist or do touristy things, thereby sending myself even deeper into this spiral of panic and excitement. You will never find me checking a map in public, on a cruise ship (Alaska excepted), or at a Sandals. I prefer to rent a cottage or an apartment and struggle to order vegetarian meals in my pathetic, broken version of the native language while everyone else sips pina coladas by a clean pool and eats chicken french from a buffet pan.

This juxtaposition has manifested itself in my adult life as a freakish need to know as much as possible about things before I try them. I research customs and culture relentlessly before I go. I look up every neighborhood in the city and decide what ones I want to visit, where I'll go, and how I'll get there. I memorize the maps. I've learned to look at the map of the airport I'm headed to (the one in the back of the airline magazine) and plot the exact route from my gate to where I'll need to go. 

If I were to have lived in an age without the internet, I might have never left my house. I would have stayed home with my cat, reading Jane Austen and waiting for the mailman to fall in love with me and whisk me away. 

Anyway.

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I cry at things. Here are some Cranberry Avocado Muffins.

S has learned my weakness. See, he and I watch a lot of movies. Neither of us have cable and I don't even have a TV, so Netflix and iTunes rentals make up the majority of our digital entertainment.

I'm not very good with emotions. I generally am not affected by things that upset or give joy to others, to the point that it is a noticeable quality of mine. S is easily the more sensitive (emotionally well-adjusted?) of the two of us.

That said - put anything even remotely sad or emotional on the TV and I turn into a weepy disaster. Exhibit A: last night we watched "50/50." It's a film about a young man fighting cancer. Naturally, I was blubbering at the end while S laughed gleefully at my sudden inability to control my feelings. Now, don't be mad at him - I'm a little rough around the edges. I show him little to no mercy when he feels things in situations that I find ridiculous, so he's earned the right to a little schadenfreude.

[Also, side note: Joseph Gordon Levitt is so ridiculousy sexy. He's such a good actor and he always does indie films and his dimples make my knees weak. Not the point of this post, but impossible to go on without noting.]

Back to where I was going: "50/50" is a sad, funny, well-written and well-acted film. You may be thinking "lots of perfectly normal people could cry at a movie like that."

Exhibit B: I have to change the channel whenever the Sarah McLachlan commercials for the Humane Society come on. 

Exhibit C: I cried at the trailer for "Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close." Also, "War Horse." 

Exhibit D: My roommate came home once in college and thought something horrible had happened because I was crying hysterically. Turns out I was just watching "Beaches."

Still - I know - you're thinking this is all within the confines of reason. Let me continue.

Click to read more ...

The Awesome and A Kick-Ass Trio of Crackers

I know, I know - I promised you the stabbing salsa. It will come, I promise! It's just that... well, I was going to, but... then... I got really lazy.

And anyway, there was a shitload of awesome in my day yesterday. 

And not necessarily the good kind of awesome. 

The real gem occurred earliest in the day. I spent an hour of my day today giving a presentation using GoToMeeting. For all of you who are lucky enough to maintain a non-corporate existence, GoToMeeting is a service that allows you to share your desktop to take others through presentations or show them media remotely. 

I used the service to share a PowerPoint presentation with a group of 15 people today, all of whom work at a client of mine. After the meeting, I decided to take a break from my day to peruse the wonders of the internet. I had worked through lunch and needed a time-out (no, seriously. I did. I. DID).

I scrolled through my Facebook homepage and looked people's weird Valentine's day pictures, stalked some people I would never say hi to if I saw them in the grocery store but keep on my friend list for my own lame entertainment, and read a few mildly inappropriate status updates. I then proceeded to check my Gmail, write back a few friends, and then waste a good 10 minutes browsing random crap on Pinterest. 

You might be able to guess where this is going. 

Click to read more ...

Coconut Ginger Pancakes with Lime Butter

I like Sundays, prior to 8 PM. I wake up and make plans to go to yoga and then decide to make breakfast and watch movies instead. By 8 PM I'm sad - I've realized that the weekend is over and begin to get depressed. I then become unable to grow tired, as though staying up is my way of rebelling against the dying of the light. I proceed to watch stupid movies or TV shows on Netflix until after midnight, making Monday morning even more miserable than is necessary. 

I question my logical decision-making abilities. 

This morning, I had my heart set on pancakes and an 11:45 yoga class. I got out of bed and began gathering supplies. Alas, one whiff of the milk and it was apparent that pancakes were not happening. I got sad, but then I improvised and got awesome (NPH). Thanks to the recent inventory of our 1950's style bunker of foodstuffs, I remembered a can of lite coconut milk in the pantry. Coconut Ginger Pancakes with Lime Butter were born and it became apparent that yoga was not happening. 

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Update: Make It Do and Cauliflower and Carrot Pasta Sauce with Coriander and Sage

So this whole "Make it do" with food thing has been interesting. Pretty enjoyable, even. I am proud of myself for not spending money and have made some good dinners (including Squash and Parsnip Soup, Black Bean Tacos, and the pasta sauce in this post).

I did sort of cheat one day - I play women's hardcourt volleyball a few days a week and one of the venues offers free pizza. I have a rule in life (actually, ask S - I have lot of rules) - I ALWAYS eat free pizza. Since I didn't have to buy it, I felt like I was still within my parameters. Oh, and I didn't care because it was free pizza. 

Breakfasts and lunches, however, have been a bit more difficult. I love sleeping, which means I never get up in time to make something.

[You know how there are morning people and night people? I've discovered I'm clearly neither. I would sleep until 9 every day if I could and I'm always tired by 10:30 PM. I guess I'm more of a 'sleeping person.']

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