Monthly Archives: August 2009

Nothing says love like bacon

If I eat anymore chicken in the near future, I will barf. I told the fiance that because I’m klassy that way. And because I’m really, really sick of chicken.

I don’t eat beef (not for any reason other than I’m a freak and I don’t like the way it tastes.) so I’m sometimes limited in my menu options. But my friends at the National Pork Board would probably hope I remember the “other white meat” when planning meals.

(They had nothing to do with dinner last night, but since they were a sponsor at Blogher and they had some nice people there, I thought I’d give them some love. )

Pork on pork sound good to you? It did to the fiance.

We were arguing over the fact that our new home* does not include a washer and dryer. Ok, I was freaking out and he was trying to talk me off a ledge. And I was probably being a little ridiculous, because for seriousness at age 32, I’m not about to return to the laundry mat anytime soon. (ever.)

* Yes, we put the deposit down on our new rental home last night. And  then we decided to move August 29. And yes, I will be in New York all next week. And yes, we may be crazy. Carry on.

Meanwhile, as he was getting more frustrated with my insistence that the end of the world might take place if we do not have a washer and dryer right now, yesterday, in fact,   I was chopping up bacon to fry in the pan.

Conversation escalated.

Bacon sizzled.


But I’m making bacon, I told him with a sly smile.

Suddenly and miraculously, the conversation toned down a notch. I agreed that as long as we could get a washer and dryer as soon as possible, like one of our very first priorities, the world might not come to an end. The fiance nodded with his glazed over eyes focused on the sizzling pan.

Back to the pork on pork action.

Prior to going over to the new house to put down a deposit, I had placed a 1lb pork tenderloin into a ziplock with this awesome Asian dressing from one of our favorite wine bars .

So after the bacon had sizzled and our argument had fizzled, I threw that tenderloin right on top of the bacon.


After two minutes, I flipped it over.


(Pork porn.)

Then I put it in the oven at 350 with the marinade poured on top and a few of the bacon pieces tucked into some breaks in the tenderloin and baked it for about 30-45 minutes. Honestly, I have no idea how long it was because I kept taking it out to test the temperature. Basically, I cooked it until it was 160 degrees according to my William Sonoma fancy shmancy meat thermometer.

Meanwhile, I fed the fiance a fresh baguette served with olive oil and cracked pepper.  It kept him happy and occupied while he talked to his mom and some friends on the phone until the pork was done. 

I served the pork with steamed brocoli and garlic with some butter and salt.

And that is the meal we enjoyed on the evening of which we landed our first home together. It has been requested that the meal be served again as soon as and often as possible.


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Happy thoughts

After the train wreck that was this weekend, I thought it was time for some happy thoughts…

  • Mad Men started on Sunday.
  • Top Chef starts on Thursday.
  • And at least I still have a television.
  • I have an upcoming trip to the Big Apple and I hope to see one of my new Blogher friends.
  • Barefoot wine is on sale for $4.99 at my grocery store.
  • The fiance and I are closer to our first house together.
  • Gertie is closer to having a yard again.
  • The fiance is going to turn the big 3-0 in a few weeks, finally catching up with me in the 30’s. (Sadly, it’s a race he will never win.)
  • Birthdays mean cake.
  • I don’t bake, but I can buy a mean cake.
  • He doesn’t even like cake, which means more for me.
  • Good thing we have an upcoming move to help me burn off the cake calories.

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That’s how I feel. I’m an hour away from leaving for the airport to pick up the fiance. He’s been gone for a five days. I should be so excited to go pick him up.

But I’m not. Because I’m dreading what it will be like when he returns to his house which was robbed Friday night. They took everything of value. Computers, T.V.’s, game units and his huge collection of DVD movies. All gone. 

I discovered it when I returned his car to his driveway yesterday. G-Man’s cat came running to the car. I thought it was odd that Kitty was outside because G-Man doesn’t leave Kitty outside when he’s out of town. But I figured the third roommate who had been at the house might have accidently let Kitty outside. 

I walked up to let the cat in, and that’s when I saw the front door was open. It was downhill from there.

I’m so thankful DD Girl was with me. She was a tremendous help with the cats, the police and even swept up broken glass after we met with police this morning. It’s been a long ordeal. The Kansas City police department failed to file a police report for me on Saturday when I called it in. They sent two officers out to the scene who told me that I couldn’t file the report because it would be too incomplete. 

Thanks to the Fiance’s IT department (the robbers stole his company Blackberry), I got a call from the police at midnight saying they goofed up and would like to do a thorough investigation and file a report. 

DD Girl and I had lofty plans for a fun girls’ night on Saturday, but after we discovered the house, all we could do is process the damage. (Over several bottles of wine.) 

So I’m happy to see the fiance in a little while, but I’m dreading the next few weeks and months for him. It will be a rough road, no doubt.

And as sad as it is, it is just stuff. Eventually, we can get some of it back. I’m thankful no one (including the kitties) was hurt. We’ll get through it.


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The Fiance and I spent a good part of last weekend/early this week exploring rental houses. Shhh…we may have found one we really like, TBD.

Anyhow, in our search, we met this really quirky landlord. Of course, I like him. I was showing him pictures of Gertie and he was telling us about some of the wild pets he’s come across in his line of work.

One dude seeking housing asked if it would be alright if he worked from home. Not a problem, only his line of work was raising rattlesnakes and selling their venom for anti-venom products. Surprisingly, he was having a hard time finding a place to rent.

He then described a tenant he once had who was this sweet little new-agey girl. Quite harmless and as nice as could be. As her lease was expiring, he asked if he could show her apartment to someone else. She said it was fine, but not to open the  second bedroom door. There was a…pet inside. Oh, that was fine, the landlord said. He wouldn’t let the pet out. Noooooo, she said. Just best not to open the door.

Sure enough, he goes up there, cracks the door open and standing there on a bed of hay was a little goat. Baaaaah.


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My nerd flew away and left me to be a geek for a week

Yesterday the fiance left for nerdville.  Which was fine with me because he left me his car.

Ok, I lie. I would rather have him here than his car, but if he has to be gone, at least there is a useful element to it.

Last night was night #1 of just me. So what did I do? Well, I cooked of course. To get inspiration, I wandered around the produce section of the store.

Am I the only one who ever does this?

And then I found it. Brussel sprouts! Something I have never cooked before, or for that matter, tasted! I was up for a challenge and what could be more challenging than the world’s most hated veggie? I bought one of those pre-bagged packages because it seemed like a manageable portion and let’s be honest, it had instructions on the bag.

I ran home with my bottle of $4.99 wine. (Did you not read the post about my car? I am not rich, people. I do what I have to. Oh, and it wasn’t bad. It was the Barefoot Shiraz.) I still had some frozen Mahi Mahi in my freezer, so I took that out and thawed it in the sink with cold water.

I found a recipe earlier in the week for potato encrusted halibut, but I figured Mahi Mahi was a similar white fish and it would work.

Basically, you just get instant Idahoan Roasted Garlic mashed potatoes and coat the fish with the uncooked flakes. (You really need to push the potato flakes into the fish pretty well.)  Then you heat canola oil and pan fry it. It is simple and yummy. It also needed a veggie….

Back to the sprouts. So I chopped up some garlic and melted some butter for the sprouts. I steamed them in the microwave for half of the alloted time on the package, then I added them to the butter in the pan and cracked sea salt over them.

Walla! I made sprouts. And they weren’t half bad. I’m not a huge fan of the very dense center of the sprouts, but I could get used to them. Roomie came home and I had her try one. She said they reminded her of asparagus. I didn’t get that flavor, but I can see where it came from.

After dinner, I entertained myself with my new flip cam  which arrived in the mail thanks to my new friends at Frontline (well I’ve been watching the show for five years now, but I met them at Blogher and I won the camera! Woot!)

I’m not close to winning any award-winning documentaries, but I have great footage of Gertie sitting and looking at me. Tonight’s goal is to learn how to upload video to my computer….woo boy. You are going to be lucky readers soon!


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Speed Bump

I had my court date for my speeding ticket this evening. I’ve never actually been to court before, which as a former legal news reporter seems a little odd. But it’s true. I just covered appellate cases and large verdicts after they were handed down.

But I procrastinated mailing in my ticket (truth – I really didn’t want the city government to have my money until they had to.)  Also, I had called my insurance agent to find out if this ticket would cause a ding on my record. Because I told him I was going 42 in a 35, he said I should be ok. No need to double the fine.  I figured I would just show up and pay the flat fee and be done with it.

And well, let’s just say that didn’t happen.

What did happen was I got in my car, turned the ignition and nothing happened.

Nothing as in my frickin’ car was dead as a doornail. Oh, but the AC and radio would turn on (as if bad mix radio and a blast of cold air would help me get to court on time.) The hope that it was just my battery and it would all be ok with a jump fizzled just as soon as I heard Katie Perry whine about being hung over in Vegas.  Stupid girl, you put your money where your mouth is and shut up! I thought as I yanked the key out of my ignition.

Luckily I have the most amazing fiance ever who came and got me in time to take me to my court date. Awww, isn’t that romantic?

Judge or prosecutor?

Um, how about car mechanic, I thought when the clerk asked me my plan of action.  I mean really, how can they make me pay this when it’s very clear I’m not going to be speeding anywhere soon. I don’t even run a sub 10 minute mile!

The longer we sat there (and it took a while) the more I started to get mad that the city of Mission was taking my money – money I would now need to get my car towed and probably  a new starter put in my car.

I mean it’s not like I was going very fast. And it was down a big hill. And I was on the phone with someone very important at the time telling him very important things, I’m sure.

I mean what if I just started charging people money for breaking my rules?  Take  the  tourists on the Plaza who walk in big groups on the sidewalk when I’m trying to run with Gertie. I politely tell them I am coming up behind them on their left and they suddenly act like they don’t know how to walk. Some move to the right some to the left and some just freeze, so then we have to dodge them (It’s usually up a hill) while Gertie is trying to lick their children and snag a belly rub.  I think they should have to pay up.

I know the city has expenses, but so do I. I have some very important car maintenance issues to tend to, a future move to fund and a wedding.

Finally it was my turn and the prosecutor (who looked so young that I might have been his babysitter in high school) asked me if I wanted to double up to get it off my record.

No, I said arrogantly. I wasn’t doing more than 10 miles over so it won’t hurt my insurance.

But it says here you were doing 42 in a 30.

Let me see that!  I fished my copy of the ticket out of my huge handbag and tried to prove the kid wrong. The fiance was peering over my shoulder.

Yup, babe – 42 in a 30, he said as he pointed to the manwriting on the document.There was no way I could double it without knowing what my car was going to cost me.

Before I knew it, the fiance had his credit card out and the fine had been doubled to no more than a $220 parking violation.

Humbled, carless and broker than I yet know, I won’t be speeding anytime soon.

But I will probably run down the aisle. (If I can make it to the church.)

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Would you believe I did it again?

Did what?

Another kitchen fire.


You can read about it here.  Quick. Go. Before the Blog police tell me I can no longer call myself a foodie blogger.

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