Marble[wo]man (Eat Ingredients)

Pondering Phantasms: A Repurpose of Passages

2012-01-22T09:08:00.001-05:00

[Listen]
I first encountered the specter when I was a fledgling theorist (in search of a philosophy) at a conference in Central Europe. At the start of my visit, I erred as have a few arrogant foreign early 20th Century archeologists have before mysteriously disappearing from a tomb dig site in Egypt--I angered the spirits. Fortunately for me, I was on a plane the within a week possessing only certified souvenirs: conference swag, städtisch logo t-shirts, and a contemporary perfume bottle for my mother. I noted the encounter in the poem Utterances in the Night.

I had not such another encounter until I was in Tribeca, New York City. I had a "hands-on" experience with a bogeyman. Nascent was I with this otherness. Otherness, for me at the time, was an academic term used to describe the culturally disenfranchised. However, the 'otherness' I was attempting to disambiguate was a physical being in the abstract sense—perhaps more like an alter-ego, something like a conscience anthropomorphised: The Last Night I Dreamt of the Bogeyman (p. 13-14).

Clinically, this type of anthropomorphism could be termed as a hallucination, due to, in my case, a sleep disorder. Was my throat occluded by my tongue, thus blocking airflow to my brain, causing heart palpitations, raising my pulse rate--a seizure perhaps induced by hazardous medication(s): Hags and Nightmares. Sleep Paralysis and the Midnight Terror. The Hidden Shadows.

As I have witnessed when my eyes were wide open, the appearances of the Velvet Shadow were beginning to harass me when I began my diabetes treatment. The diabetes unfortunately was a symptom of a greater ghost provocateur: Cushings Disease. Although curable, the spiking hormonal imbalances allowed me to envision uncanny motion-stop impressions surreally over-voiced expressions: On Being Patient #2: Strike or Spike, part II; On Being Patient #3: Reversion Triggers, part I; On Being Patient #6: A Philosopher's Progress: (dis)Organization; On Being Patient #13: Recuperation: the Recovery of a Keen Being.

A recount on the recall, a revisitation, and a hormonal addendum, I curl up in bed, pondering my “sightings,” thinking funny thoughts--maddening, even as I walk stiffly, not sternly, painfully stout, frank in my steps from the office to the car, back to the castle which I refer to as home, then dinner, later withdrawal--haunted by my writings.

RECALIBRATE: Quelling Agitation (Digestive Disrupt)

2011-11-17T08:14:00.005-05:00

Dreadful to get out of bed (off the couch) in the morning--or should I say, full of dread when I get out of bed this (every) morning since.... A sluggish stress across my chest--too heavy. I have a normal blood sugar level and a moderate blood pressure--adequate sleep--yet the solar and coronary plexuses are perplexing, aching my stomach and heart, breaking my sentences of thought.

Should I have returned to feed upon an old chum, a culinary musing, who remains swimmingly delicious, who for some reason turned from pleasantly peptic to atrociously septic, tanking what used to be my flash face, to flush. Now my chum is an estranged mate, a reflux/reflex that I find repulsive while I sleep through the night--a disruptive gurgle as I sleep through the night, and an acidic awakening--cramped in bed. How do I savor the sated moments we had together.

A fret and afraid, I phoned the doctor who was on call, who recommended that I cease my frenzied relationship with my toothsome friend--the shark who was a convivial contact, who was a gnashing flame: chum-luscious lava flowing through my gorge. I was encouraged to heed, to at least find a hum-drum recipe, frothy with placidity--although possibly a venture mercurial in nature, hopefully, now and then, a comfortable bid goodnight.

Nubilous Innocuous To Be Prepared

Lilly Flower

Baby Arugula

Wheat Noodles

Vine Ripe Tomato (thickly sliced)

Tuna Steak (cubed)

Whole Milk

Mountain Gorgonzola (melted)

Recuperation: the Recovery of a Keen Being

2011-10-17T08:49:00.002-04:00

With the follow-ups that followed, I had several doctor appointments: the otorhinolaryngologist (the logician for the endoscopic adenectomy surgery), my primary care physician, the adrenalectomy surgeon, and my endocrinologist. Prior to the scheduled appointments, on two separate occasions, I was in contact with the physician on-call to find out what I should do about the abdominal discomfort I was suffering. After each physician went over the symptom "causes for emergency" checklist, I was advised to wait to hear back from someone from the adrenalectomy team and from the endocrinologist--and try to wait until the scheduled appointment. I did receive word to pickup a prescription for my stomach, and that I should have some blood work done for the surgeon and endocrinologist to review prior to seeing them.

The appointment with the otorhinolaryngologist was fine; I was healed from the adenectomy--no residual complications. The appointment with my primary care physician was fine as well; he provided me with some advice in health management. The appointment with my adrenalectomy surgeon proved to me that I am not a hypochondriac. After reviewing the lab results and consulting with my endocrinologist, the surgeon had me admitted to the hospital for additional testing and an x-ray of my stomach, which would conclusively determine whether or not my abdominal problems were a complication from the surgery (i.e. infection) or from the regimen of medicines prescribed to replace the hormones once produced by the adrenal glands and to counterbalance the effects (diabetes, osteoporosis, high blood pressure) caused by the toxic levels of cortisol (Cushings Disease).

After a few days in the hospital, the physicians concluded that my body was in cortisol withdrawal and was adjusting to the prescribed medications. Relieved that there were no complications from the surgery, I could focus on recuperation, recovery, and remaining loyal to my endocrinologist's recommendations--she, who reminded me that my brain was/is still "swimming in cortisol," which is being reduced gradually and needs to be closely monitored until the disease abates and hormone levels are normalized. Understood, however, my appetite had not increased, nor had my fulsome taste perception become less sapid.

Perniciousness aside, when I was admitted to the hospital, as I had before, I was asked if I had any religious beliefs that would become a factor regarding my medical treatment options. I claimed that I did not have any doctrine-based concerns. However, since having my adrenal glands removed, the effects on my physiological systems makes this layperson ponder this profundity affecting my psyche--a hypothesis: a glandular soul in conjunction with an ethical one? The futility taxing my natural brain, calling upon a non-existent gland to automate my immune system, now "naturalized," reminding me to take action or else my health would progressively deteriorate automatically. My will is exhausted.

This depression would pass within time, I was informed during my preoperative consult with the surgeon, who indirectly encouraged me to "keep the faith." In respite, I had been able to contrive two recipes. An espresso has invigorated my ability to contemplate the renewal of my vitality.

A Successful Dilemma: A Cut-Out of Alacrity

2011-09-28T16:25:00.001-04:00

When I signed the consent form (June 2011) to have the endoscopic transsphenoidal adenectomy (pituitary surgery through the nose), there was a clause stating that my sense of taste might alter for a unspecified period of time. Three months later, I am into my second week of recuperating from a laparoscopic adrenalectomy (surgical incisions located in the abdominal area). I needed to have this surgery because the partially removed pituitary gland continued to be "active" in triggering my adrenal glands to produce toxic levels of cortisol. The consequence from the surgeries on my eating habits, thus far, is that I have a decreased appetite. I am eating, however, not as enthusiastically as I had months ago.

I noticed the change in my sense of taste when I was on the post-andrenalectomy liquid diet, which consisted of broth, fruit-flavored gelatine, pudding, cranberry juice, iced tea, and water. The hospital cafeteria broth was the most alarming when contrasted to my memorable broth, made from fresh chicken stock. My broth should taste better than the water boiled with instant (powder) version. However, the other meal items tasted just as "funny." NOTE: the adrenal surgery was at the same hospital as I had in June for the pituitary. The menu's meal combination had not changed, nor had the vendor of these menu items, provisions that were well within their expiration date. The taste comparison was not the difference between two recipes, but the change in the evaluator's conclusion (due to his altered faculties): my memory of singular item(s) prepared no differently than before.
I did not fuss over the taste matter for fear that the issue might rouse a pedigreed reaction as opposed to a symptomatic classification. If either fear (or both) were provocative, I did not want to delay. I wanted to move bravely onward to solid food as quickly as possible without a hint of this incident. After all, the adenectomy and andrenalectomy were not about the purpose of heightening my ability to fathom seasoning "irregularities." (Follow-up to follow.)

My first solid meal was spinach quiche accompanied by a sausage patty. The breakfast was over-spiced; I did not take a second bite. Fortunately, the biscuit with margarine was bland enough. The decaffeinated tea (lemon) was swigalicious. For lunch, baked turkey sliced with gravy was accompanied by cheese and macaroni. Dinner was a fish fillet with paprika, roasted potatoes in addition. The turkey and fish overpowered my palette. The cheese and macaroni (likewise for the potatoes) was less sickening to the stomach.

My stomach was distended, not in contentment, but in need of relief. The stitches scarring my plumped belly were not a laughable gaseous distraction. A suppository did not make me sit and contemplate, nor did relaxation in the form of a pill soften my faecial expression or assist in the dispense of my airs.

At home ad nauseam for nought! Gladly, I am progressing since being discharged from the hospital. The depletion of hormonal toxins has yet to triumph my taste sense(s); the loss of appetite has yet to tuck into my tummy demure delights. I do find myself with a fully portioned plate, but not heaping. I find myself chewing, chewing more slowly--now in smaller bites. Adjusting for vagary as well!

Clearance Level

2011-09-02T07:13:00.004-04:00

For the past two weeks, my concern, the obsession for the latter part of August, has been the consuming of enough dietary fiber--a discomforting, but welcomed distraction from thinking about the upcoming surgery to remove the glands that are producing high levels of cortisol in my body. Coping through constipation, to some extent, is a relief, is better than escaping reality through a blog that is supposed to be autobiographical verbatim, which raises the question, am I actually constipated? I cannot, as of yet to anyone online, provide distended proof! How do I? I would like to maintain my credibility!

Anyhow, this digestive system has blocked my creative flow, putting me behind schedule in posting to the blog. I have been feeding on fibrous foods (grains, vegetables, and pulses) while attempting to cut back on the carbohydrates. The underlying duress, due to the pending surgery, is preoccupying my subconscious attention, disrupting my focus in "subverting the system."

In my endeavor to add more dietary fiber into my meals (bran flakes, corn, butter beans), I was able to research and develop a recipe that I find delicious. [NOTE: seek out a nutritionist.]

Adrenal Casserole
Green Cabbage Leaf [spine removed] -- boiled (filtered water with sea salt)
Salami [sliced wafer thin] -- pan-fried (olive oil) -- goat cheese (dollop)
Wheat Pasta -- twirled stacks -- strands as borders*
Basa Fillet -- braised (olive oil and filtered water) -- oregano sprinkles -- lemon juice drips
White Onion [wilted slivers] -- sauteed (butter and filtered water) -- tomato sauce (balsamic vinegar)

In House Insights

2011-08-19T08:05:00.006-04:00

When creating a recipe, I am uncertain as to whether or not I am being influenced solely by cultural ethnocentrism(s), current event(s), personal issue(s), moral dictate(s), fetishistic curiosity(ies), opportunistic happenstance(s), latent discovery(ies)--or by alchemical amalgamation.

Mushy Love

Olive Oil
Chopped Onion
Tomato Medley
    -- grape
    -- heirloom
    -- globe
Lime Juice (fresh)
Beech Mushrooms
Long Hot Pepper (rings)
Couscous
Parsley (air-dried, minced)
Beaufort Cheese (blocks)
Sardines (plain water)

Inept empiricism is helpful. My recipes are subconscious impulsions evolved from fancy--utilized referential cravings.

Tartine Salad with Speckled Eyes

Shredded Chicken (steamed, chilled)
Chives (diced)
Tomato (diced)
Tamarind Sauce
Peanuts

Tiny Cheddar Cheese Wheel (wax removed)
Clementine (peel removed)
Sesame Seed Crispbread

Chocolate Chip Cookies
Coffee

I cannot say that I am a person who is big on food preparation or presentation. I have more of an appetite for taste(s)--less for appetizing treatment(s).

Marmorean Goulash

Pork Ribs
-- olive oil
-- sea salt
[sautéed thoroughly once sauced]

Frijoles Negros (from a can)
[cooked wet to dry]

Pine Nuts/Garlic (crushed/minced)
[pan-toasted lightly]
Tomato (diced)
Dried Mint (crumbled)
Coconut Cream (liquid)

Corn Tortilla Cheddar Cheese Melt (microwaved)
Picante Sauce

Iced Tea with Mineral Water

Marmorean Goulash

By exposing my recipe psyche, I celebrate the demographic challenge of maintaining provincial provisions.

Bring Home Birthday

2011-08-11T22:28:00.002-04:00

August 6, 2011

To celebrate my niece's ("I'm over a quarter century years old") birthday, she asked if we could gather at Nana's house for a meal. I purchased a half bushel of #1 crabs.

Unfortunately I was beholden to the kitchen gadgets that I had forgotten at home, so I availed myself to the pots and pans that were within reach, at hand.

I had made the baked macaroni and (3) cheese the previous evening. I even remembered to bring the shredded hardened curd to sprinkle over the loaf during the reheat.

Getting the crabs from the basket to the boiling water took some acrobatics, and some hunter-gatherer technique.

Once the crabs were cooked, they were joined on the kitchen table with grandmom's 'falling off the

bone' beef ribs, her 'boulder' potato salad and cold chicken wings, auntie's 'cute' couscous, her mommy's

avocado dip (not pictured) and 'double' baked beans--and cousin's corn.

One chocolate and one lemon cake, accompanied with Neapolitan ice cream--we had for dessert. There were not enough candles for both cakes, so the chocolate was blazed, however both were devoured. Presents were not necessary, a nice to do. I did not. Having cooked over the past twelve hours, I took a snooze--budgeted.

An early evening--there was plenty of epicurean swag for everyone to bring home a plate (or two), bladder baggies for ingestion during the week.

Gratefully Fed

2011-07-31T23:44:00.002-04:00

July 30, 2011

This heatwave morning, I wrestled my arms through the backpack's shoulder straps (with a monograph book enclosed in the compartment, water bottle affixed). I then walked (approximately three-quarters of a mile at a non-exercise pace) to the neighborhood's (traveling) farmer's market. Amongst the small crowd, I was able to purchase some heirloom tomatoes, corn, and peaches. I sauntered a short distance to the park, sat down at a cafe table, drank the water, read a chapter, and ate the seemingly innocuous apeche fruit amongst a gathering of festive folk.

Once back home, I had a lunch-snack consisting of two locally manufactured turkey hotdogs, which were accompanied with horseradish mustard, triangular chips, and an iced tea drink. Having read a couple of magazine articles, I then filled the laundry machine, and then washed dishes while I waited for the freshly ground coffee to percolate.

For evening dinner, I prepared:

A Heirloom Tomato (olive oil)

Steak Skirt (sea salt)

Corn on the Cob (butter)

Brown Rice

As I watched the televised broadcast news, I was grateful that I did not need to be stamped for approval, and that the distance I traversed coupled with the meal(s) consumed were not part of a warlords' travail laden with diminished provisions--grateful that the Somali plunder has yet to go global.

Redeeming Qualities: Sources of Frustration

2011-07-21T11:07:00.009-04:00

July 3 - 18, 2011

"I am your mother! I gave you life, and I can take your life away," my Maw reminded me ever since I understood the words she exclaimed. Fortunately, for her, I was a precocious child, and I understood exactly what her initial introduction and first impression meant.

"I will always be your mother no matter how old you are," she declared even before I could articulate my siren sobs into wordy wails, which is acceptable when you are forty-five days old, but not when you are forty-five years old.

However, my mother stayed with me dutifully in my hospital room as I ranted about overcrowded refrigerator space, and how I had not allotted enough space for her foodstuff, about how I had planned meals for the next couple weeks so that she could focus on overseeing my recuperation once home.

I incessantly droned on, complaining that she had not called me in advance, when she said she would--touch base before leaving to pick me up and take me home, so that I could coordinate with my nurse the publication of my discharge papers.

"My status just changed. The shift just changed. The new nurse is going to have to review all of her cases. I am last, in priority, on the list!!! Now we are going to have to wait several hours while the critical-care patients are attended to. We are going to rack up parking fees. [I WANNA GO HOME, MOMMY! WAAH!!!]"

Maw waived away the concerned hospital staff as she tried not to make sense of her post-surgery, traumatized son's ill behavior. She considered whether or not (or how) she was going to sustain my life. For I was to be released under her care.

"Once I get you home, you are going to get your rest," Maw threatened from her pursed lips.

Alerted, I knew that I was not going to receive the private prenatal care I regressively desired, but would receive the public toddler discipline tactics she could deftly inflict: bicker banter provocative punishment.

"You're not doing what the doctor [intern] said," my Maw tattled.

"You're not doing what the doctor [primary-specialist] said you should be doing, what you said you agreed to do, going to do--as I said before what I needed you to do the last time you said 'OK' to, but did not do, but you promised you would do to get done, that you are complaining about now like you did then, ditty-doo," I scolded incoherently after taking my post-op 'use care when using machines' [or engaging in complex thinking] medication.

"This is not my problem. I am your mother," she said in mantra, intoning infallibility.

Infantile tantrums and maternal tsk tsks were in abundance for the first couple of days in our familial captivity. The two of us recognized and acknowledged the burdensomeness of our emotional breakdowns and the possibility of obtaining satisfaction. Since I was past the critical stages regarding home healthcare assistance, what was of importance now was getting to my follow-up doctor appointments. Maw had some upcoming appointments as well. We coordinated our calendars (aka scheduled conflicts) to determine when she would need to be here with me for consecutive days.

With time spent dining on culinary musing repeaters (and Maw drinking her power protein powder fruit smoothies), we set aside an evening to partake of Continental To-Go from the Orient (aka Chinese Takeout) for dinner.

We ordered menu items that were familiar to us, menu items that she and I have eaten for over thirty-eight years:

Shrimp Roll
Egg Roll Pork
Shrimp Egg Foo Young
Moo Shu Pork
Barbecued Spare Ribs
Fried Noodles
Duck Sauce
Pepper Oil
Fortune Cookies

Continental To-Go from the Orient

The only disappointment was that there were no almond cookies available. I forgot to request hot mustard. Nevertheless, that night, Maw and I were fully sated--with leftovers for lunch the next day.

Acclimation: Try Try Again

2011-07-07T07:04:00.018-04:00

As I progressed towards my second pituitary tumor resection, my physicians had some concerns about the amount of stress that could be potentially placed upon my heart, while under anesthesia during the surgery. For I was not as fit as an astronaut--if I had ever been. Although not a requirement for the operation, they were not certain as to how my body would withstand being in suspended animation for several hours. A stress test was ordered.

The goal of the stress test was to get my heart rate up to one hundred and fifty beats per minute, then take an electrocardiogram reading. The reading, coupled with an ECHO, was reviewed by my Cardiologist, who would give the "go ahead." Prior to his approval, a good indicator, for me, was that I did not hock up a lung during the test, nor did I hurl my lunch, which I ate forty-five minutes later: must be control over the reflux nerves!

The surgery was scheduled for Wednesday, June 29, 2011. The Cardiologist confirmed that my heart had enough stamina to handle the operation. So, on Tuesday evening, before midnight, I prepared and devoured Sprouting Beef:

Sprouting Beef
Boiled
Brussels Sprouts
Garlic (minced)
Egg Noodles
Water (filtered)
Pan-fried
Cubed Chuck (bite-sized)
Coriander Seeds (ground)
Jerk Spice
Olive Oil
Boiled Broth
Arrowroot

Sprouting Beef

Post-operation, I was monitored for a couple of days in the Intensive Care Unit. Having no resounding complications, I was transferred to the Acclimation Ward.

Acclimation Ward

The goal was to rehabilitate the normal do-it-yourself (DIY) home healthcare tasks, and to take note of the severe post-op symptoms: the warning signs of adrenal insufficiency. The DIY for me to focus upon was bathing.

Contemplating DIY Bathing

A day later, I was back home. I quickly re-acclimated myself with the kitchen: utensils and all.

Subtle Tureen and Cute Ladle Soup
Wasabi Paste
Garlic (minced)
Pickled Ginger (minced)
Chicken Stock
Veggie Noodle Strings
Corn Niblets
Shrimp (frozen)

As I ate, I watched TV. Soon after, I was upstairs drawing a bath and bathing, during which I caught-up on my podcasts (and while flushing my nose and cleaning the tub). I put on some shorts and t-shirt, then was at the coffee table reading the literature given to me by my Endocrinologist. I checked my email, washed the dishes, and acquired an appetite for a roast beef sandwich with swiss, spicy-mustard, mayonnaise, thick tomato slice on wheat--cheese-powdered chips on the side.

Appetite acclimated, I hungered for sleep and the morn--Once Home Breakfast:

Once Home Breakfast
D'Anjou Pear (peeled, cored, poached)
Filtered Water
Lemon Squeeze
Brown Sugar
Butter

Sun Dried Tomato (minced)
Turkey Bacon (chopped)
Creme de Coconut
Heavy Cream

Flounder Fillets (smothered)

Croissants (petite)
Pear (halves)
Kokos Relish (spread)
Dried Herb Spine (mint)
Eggs (sunny-side, pointed)

Once Home Breakfast

A Work's Progress

2011-06-24T08:47:00.004-04:00

Is not a work in progress the purpose of aging?

This assessment concerning fortuitous time (quality of life) hit me on the head like a brick--material or spiritual progress: physical/ethereal, visceral/intellectual, weighty/lofty, fickle/wise, dense/intense...?

While I had not this question in mind when concocting this comfort food, this recipe was the result of my concerns regarding the cure for my chronic health situation. What treatment, the course of action I should progress, and for what purpose. I needed to determine not only my own fortuity and quality, but also for those with whom I wish to share the burden--to what level (density/intensity), to what extent (proportionately)--before spoiling the experience.

The recipe that follows might add some insight as to how to work through progress--just do not (repeat "do not") drop this confection from a multistory building into a populated area comprised of people.

Breakfast Brick

Cantaloupe (food-processed)
Ricotta Cheese
Sour Cream
Flour (enriched)
Egg Yolks
Basil Leaf (minced)
Chia Seed
Flame Grapes (raisins mixed in)
Almond Butter (on the side)
Milk

Breakfast Brick

The Heavy Lofty

2011-06-15T02:41:00.007-04:00

I do not feel much like cooking these days. I am busy preparing myself for surgery, which is occurring later this month. I am more attuned to putting on weight (about ten pounds) as opposed to putting on airs. Post operation, I am thinking that I will be on an intravenous (liquid) and body fat diet for a while. Minus the potbelly with overstretched abdomen muscles, I would say that I have a svelte physique. I have the potential to emaciate very quickly.

To feast on myself properly, I will need to build body mass. To build such mass, I have been eating cereal, pasta, rice, fruits, and meat, as well as bread in the form of hoagies, pancakes (and sausage), peanut butter and jelly--chocolate chip cookies.

I am putting together my post-op at home menu, which will consist of repeater meals: pasta sauce, cassoulet, and quick fish fillet concoctions. There may be some specialty dishes with kielbasa. These meals will be portion-packaged and placed in the freezer for consumption once back from the hospital, during my extended absence from work.

Here is a recipe that I might consider as a reputable repeater, reminding me at the very least that I need some cheese and chops.

Inclusion Is Possible

Chutney
    -- Olive Oil
    -- Shiitake Mushrooms (julienne, sauteed)
    -- Pepperoncini (rings)
    -- Strawberries (frozen, chopped)

Pork Knuckle Chop (skillet-grilled)
Olive Oil

Wheat Couscous
Mustard Oil

Cheese: Cheddar (cubed, microwaved)

Inclusion Is Possible

[A] Pathetic! [Not] Me... :-( || ;-)

2011-06-05T17:26:00.011-04:00

Saturday, June 4, 2011

I awoke this morning on the couch, in front of my coffee-table wide-screen laptop. The web page's embedded video player was prompting me with the question, "Play Again?"

The movie was The Bigamist, directed by Ida Lupino.

After watching the movie (last night), I could not help thinking about Maria and Arnold, and their public situation. How eerily peculiar. As the court hearings proceed, I wonder what their judgment will be? How have the times changed? [Insightful moment.]

As I consider my own situation, how do I (will I) 'play again'? This was my contemplation as I composed my complication.

Solo with Mi Amore, I. (Mattina)

Spongy Croutons
Butter (melted)
Potato Roll (small, diced)
Lemon Juice (fresh)
Olive Oil
Sole Fillet (fluffed)
Egg (whisked)
Scallion Stalk (sliced finely)
Tarragon (freshly minced)
Anchovy (chopped)
Fontina (slats)
Pasta Gravy (saucy halo)

Solo with Mi Amore, I (Mattina)

I ate my breakfast serenaded, as I leisurely thumbed through magazine recipes. [NOTE: I scanned my first QR code!]

After the final bite ["Yum"], I listened to the first few chapters of the audiobook The Man Who Was Thursday by G. K. Chesterton as I washed the dishes from this morning as well as those that had accumulated during the week.

I downloaded all of the chapters into my mp3 player so that I could continue listening while bathing ["Clean the tub, man!"], and while following through on my errand list at the markets. ["...and don't forget to buy some disinfectant cleanser--for crud's sake!!!"]

For Crud's Sake!!!

Once back, I put away the groceries, and then prepared dinner.

Solo with Mi Amore, II. (Sera)

Chicken Breast (slices crosscut, seasoned)
White pepper (powdering)
Breadcrumbs (plain)
Olive oil
Canola Oil (frying)

Ingredients: Solo with Mi Amore, II. (Sera)

Ziti
Sea Salt

Apricot (blanched, pitted, pieces)
Basil (coarsely chopped)
Jalapeno (seedless circles)
Lite Cream
Red Bell Pepper (julienne)
Pecorino Romano (grated)

Solo with Mi Amore II (Sera)

I ate dinner quietly, trying to come up with a one-liner that would witticize my day. From sunrise to sunset: two plates/two faces [and stop calling me Janus!!!].

Pastry Forthwith Alacrity

2011-06-01T07:02:00.006-04:00

I was awakened by a cat's calls, and shrill retorts from chirruping feathered fowls. A breeze on my goose-pimpled skin chilled my grogginess as the burr from the attic fan whirred, sucking in air through the open sliding-glass door entranceway screened.

I was in the recreational room at my mother's house, reclining in the massage lounge chair pensively: a daybreak rumination, contemplating reciprocity not through the plasticity of manufacturing, but through the placidity of manipulating with a recipe.

I stood up and stretched-tall, yawned, then ascended the stairs, drifted down the hallway, flipped the fan switch off, and went double-back to the kitchen. I opened the refrigerator door to obtain my fixings, then scoured the cupboard and spontaneously found supportive spicy additives.

The calls and retorts (the clamor) that had summoned these sentences had begun to fade as I searched for pots and pans, as I located the utensils that would help me transcribe this testimonial delicacy.

Cobbler

Granny Smith/Rome Apples (grab bag) [peeled, cored, roughly chopped]
Anise Seed (sprinkles)
Arrow Root
Lemon Juice
Gloucester Cheese (chunky crumbles)
Eggs (vigorously whisked)
Streusel
- Brown Sugar
- Butter
- Walnuts (hand-crushed)
Crust (optional)

Granny Smith/Rome Apples with Lemon

Potpourri Chew

Apple Peels (oven-dried)
Cherries (finger-pitted, candied)
- Honey
- Lemon (zest)
Walnuts (broken)
Lemon (thinly sliced wedges)

Potpourri Chew

Sides

Bacon (crispy)
Vanilla Frozen Yogurt
Coffee (stark)

Cobbler Potpourri Bacon Frozen Yogurt

A Cross Section Dinner P[l]an

2011-05-23T07:41:00.002-04:00

My physician and her assistant were able to prescribe me a temporary solution for my headache(s) by appending another medication to my pharmaceutical list, while I await the surgical solution: Grand Rounds II--the Follow Up. This episode is the result of taking the least evasive option (operation) to avoid a statistical disaster.

RHETORICAL QUESTION: Is prolonging the quality of life prolonging the inevitable?

Such a fatalism is the reason why I decided not to become a doctor, lawyer, or correctional services administrator; however, being an (arrogant) artist seems to be an adequate metaphorical substution--as if.

Which [way] takes me to the recipe for this posting...[?]

Choice Chump Chop (This is my Brain on Food)

Watermelon (bite-size [sauteed, raw])
Ancho Chile (diced, ground)
Yogurt (plain)
Filini Pasta
Cut String Beans
Celery Seed
Fontina (local)
Olive Oil
Pork (hind loin steak)
Sea Salt (powder)
Olive Oil
Octopus (pantry pulpo)
Eggplant (peeled, sauteed)
Olive Oil
Lemon Juice

Choice Chump Chop (This is My Brain on Food)

Clinical Clusters: Radiating Radicals

2011-05-19T07:57:00.006-04:00

From day into night, from night into day--a numbing smarts, stunning brain activity--I have a persistent headache that is causing double-vision, which blurs back into a single view causing my teeth to grit the truth without me saying a word.

To alleviate this exhaustive mental activity, I fall back into my chair, roll back my eyes, and pass out, or (when there is a table or desk in front of me) I set my chin onto the palm of my hand and use my forearm as a pedestal, prominenting my grimaced mouth and squinting eyelids. After the gnashing, I feed myself without much care given to dietary details or hunger pangs.

However, as I venture off seizurely, dizzily confused in my daze, in a state of symptomatic distraction, I composed this recipe.

Excruciating Egg(s)

Bake
-- Chicken Wings [Ulna/Radius]: boiled with crushed garlic
-- Turkey Bacon: wrapping

Sauteed [low flame in cast-iron skillet]
-- Pineapple: softened, slightly browned, pulse-blended
-- Olive Oil/Filtered Water

Not Pictured
-- Smoked Gouda: shaved

Fried
-- Eggs: sunny-side

Buttered
-- Croissant

Excrutiating Eggs

Superficial Wound: Coping w/o Doping

2011-05-09T06:41:00.002-04:00

Thinking forward about my summer morale while I worked to idle my time, I found myself concerned that I might be pushing ahead too quickly--all the while mistakenly worrying about the warts blemishing my psyche (incorrecting my pars nervosa).

'On vacation' I mined laically, peevishly consumed in my paean consummation.

Cantaloupe Cages

Sauce [processed, stirred, condensed]
Rockmelon
Honey
Raw Sugar
Yogurt (plain)

Ribs [parboiled, coated, broiled]
Hog (stout curvatures)

Cantaloupe Cages

Crabby Crustacean

Port (poured)
Water (filtered)
Paprika (shaken)
Atlantic Blues (boiled, removed, returned)
Lemon (juiced)
Garlic (crushed)
Tomato (pasted)

Dinner Rolls (toasted)
Corn on the Cob (buttered)

Crabby Crustacean

A Pottage Posture: A Telling Tale

2011-04-30T23:00:00.004-04:00

For the last two weeks, I plodded through the day--clothes wrinkled, as unkempt as my humor. "How are you now brown cow," I asked myself as I slouched in my ergonomic office chair.

Decaffeinated (hyper-unaware), I grazed through the hours, interspersed with distractions: data cleanup, webpage updates, workflow troubleshooting, tech support, customer service, and online social networking. Placid ambiance was audible: music to my ears. I put on my earbuds to listen to talk, staving off my drowsiness, averting a full-body shutdown. I coaxed myself to get a coffee.

My eyes popped open. I am alarmed--a spontaneous nap for me!!! I had conked out sitting flat-back in the chair next to my son's bed as he "hushed" in his sleep. The biography I thought I was reading lay at my feet. I placed a bookmark randomly before going downstairs.

I started the laptop, plugged in the portable speakers, selected a playlist, put on my sweatpants and shirt, stumbled over to the rowing machine, and oared for ten minutes. Adrenalinated, I checked my blood sugar, then snacked, then washed some dishes while summarizing the preparation for a Scruffy Crock Purloo.

Scruffy Crock Purloo

Scruffy Crock Purloo

Mushrooms: Button Cap (diced, boiled in butter)
Artichokes (boiled, leaves raked, heart minced)
Purple Pickling Onions (soaked in filtered water until shooting or liquid color resembles the onion's;
rinse away dirt, peel top layers of silky skin)
Onion Stock (sieved through cheesecloth, removing any silt and skin)

Artichoke | Mushrooms | Purple Pickling Onions

Rice (boiled in onion stock)

Oven Roaster Chicken (plump, slow cooked)
Thyme Sprigs (under the skin)
Artichoke Stock

Chicken and Thyme

Green Beans (frozen)

Haute Meatloaf

2011-04-11T01:55:00.010-04:00

By a guest's request for admittance into the culinarian's archive, this recipe is influened by the promotion from a influential contemporary who is the glory as well as the keeper of the gate. The promotion (inverted request) was for a meatloaf made out of ground turkey and oatmeal.

Here is another attempt at glory! Hopefully this meal will please the keeper of the ¡¡gate!!

Haute Meatloaf

-- Ground Turkey/Oatmeal

Ground Turkey/Oatmeal

     -- Tarragon (minced)
     -- Goat Cheese
     -- Roasted Red Pepper (chopped)

Tarragon, Goat Cheese, Roasted Red Pepper

Into the mixing bowl.

NOTE: Include plain bread crumbs.

Into the loaf dish.

Pre-baked loaf at room temperature.

Bake twenty minutes. Dowse with grapseed oil. Bake twenty minutes.

Settle for fifteen minutes. Slice. Toast.

On the Side

     -- Carrot (circles)
     -- Red Onion (diced)
     -- Olive Oil

     -- Crisp Bread (multigrain)

Haute Meatloaf with Carrots and Crisp Bread

Moody Monday--Having [No] Fun

2011-04-05T07:24:00.013-04:00

A typical start of the day: breakfast, pack lunches for my son and I.

Mama Tostada: corn tortilla, mushroom (olive oil, lemon juice), banana,
chili pepper (dried)

He got to school on-time, and I to the office (without having to canvas the neighborhood for a parking space).

Smiling Tostada: corn tortilla, watercress, almond butter, cantaloupe

At my desk working (synchronizing databases), I am feeling sluggish. Acid reflux--not the best, but not the worst start of the week, I am pacing myself.

Monstah Poena-Crania Tostada: corn tortilla, grapefruit (pink), ketchup, hotdog, onion,
peanuts, watermelon

I think I have a migraine. Good news! There has been a new methodology for the importing of data that will be implemented within a week. I must prepare ASAP. My skull implodes, eradicating my excruciating headache. I feel much better.

Pixie-Taurus Tostada: corn tortilla, cactus, mineola, sun dried tomato

Dinner was a delight; the evening, a tumultuous tizzy.

The Mashup Medley Tostada: corn tortilla, mushroom (olive oil, lemon juice),
banana, chili pepper (dried), watercress, almond butter, cantaloupe, grapefruit (pink),
ketchup, hotdog, onion, peanuts, watermelon, cactus, mineola, sun dried tomato,
[cheddar cheese (on the side)]

Lunacy Fecundity (A Science Mythology)

2011-03-24T04:49:00.005-04:00

This week, I find myself less inspired, wanting to sleep in during the start of this Spring season. I am inclined to believe that this lack of lucidity is due to the fact that this Spring has begun with what have should of been a Harvest Moon wrought with a cornucopia of crops, providing provisions that would last throughout the entire Winter. However, with this Perigean Moon, there is a turn in the tide that is having a ripple effect across the land. I wonder how should I consider, spend my daylight savings.

Perigean Moon Soup

Chicken (steamed, mangled)
Pigeon Peas
Poultry and Bean Stock (sieved)
Corn Niblets
Filini (Fedelini Tagliati)
Parsley
Cocoanut (shaved)
Mustard Seed (pestled)

Perigean Moon Soup

Suppression is the new oppression: hopefully not as a harbinger for this Summer--a chilling effect, a prospect too close for comfort. Lethargic, I have got the jitters and I am feeling kind of queasy. The weekend grocery shopping was a "blah." Whatever is in the freezer, in the refrigerator and pantry will get me through the week. As Winter recedes, I attempt to endure this idyll, and withdrawal into my parenthetical successes and failures.

Faulty Tummy Pastry

Porgy (boiled, deboned)
Fish Stock
Sea Salt
Peanuts (pestled)
Great Northern Beans (squashed by hand)
Rosemary (ground manually)
Butter (melted)

Filo Flakes (bottom layer toasted; top layer crisped with shaved Parmesan)
Non-stick Spray

Faulty Tummy Pastry

This (Last) Week(end)

2011-03-16T06:35:00.007-04:00

Last weekend, I spent most of Saturday (March 12, 2011) running errands, looking for sales on food, finding ideas for recipes that I would then combine to make meals for the week. On Sunday (beginning at midnight), I began my combine-cooking adventure. Here is the documentation of my findings.

Taste-Test Soup

Porgie (scaled and gutted [Swai fillet in pieces recommended])
Shrimp (frozen)
Crab Mushroom
Soup Vegetables (frozen)
Filtered Water
Miso
Arrowroot
Crisp Bread (multigrain)

Taste-Test Soup

A Sumptuous and Astounding Pursuit

Chicken Escalope
Olive Oil with Crushed Garlic (bathed)
Blood Orange (thin wheels [at room temperature])
Broccoli Rabe (sauteed)
Filtered Water

Gravy (groovy)
-- BR Stock
-- Cardamon Seed (toasted, mortared)
-- Chrysanthemum Bud (pestled)
-- Flour
-- Filtered Water
-- Butter

Soy Sauce (dashes)

A Sumptuous and Astounding Pursuit

Parmigiana: Finger Nuggets

Chicken Breast (slices)
Coating
-- Bread Crumbs (plain)
-- Oregano (dried)
-- Pine Nut (pestled)
-- Lemon Juice
-- Olive Oil
[Chill in fridge, then fry crispy, but not crunchy]

Campanelle Pasta (al dente)
Tomato Paste [olive oil, balsamic vinegar, filtered water]
Parmesan (grated)
Mozzarella (shaved)
Finger Nuggets
Mozzarella (shaved)
[Bake]

Parmigiana: Finger Nuggets

Offal Fine Soup

Lamb Tripe (diced sloppily, boiled, fried)
Beef Sirloin (cubed, braised)
Brown Rice
Snow Peas
Filtered Water
Miso

Offal Fine Soup

Terrible Result, But Something Had to be Done

2011-03-06T16:57:00.002-05:00

Weeks before being admitted to the hospital, I had purchased two bricks of firm tofu. The expiration date was well into the future. I felt confident that I would use the tofu in a dish before the time-stamp indication. Into the refrigerator, the tofu went until called upon by inspiration.

When I returned from the hospital, I was greeted by a refrigerator full of "Best Used By..." products at or past their prime: milk, sour cream, pork chops, ground beef, steamed chicken, mushrooms, croissant dough, clementines--all in need (Indeed!) of some form of esculent solution. These wasting foodstuffs required some special effort; however, the milk was most simple: cereal, pancakes. I wanted something different to ingest since I had been "blanded" by six days of stringent, yet highly nutritive, delectables.

A menu change was what I desired. Anticipating a hectic week, adjusting to my revised schedule by adding the task of dressing my leg (wounded by the surgery), by altering my sleep pattern (due to a change in my medicine regimen), I was able to compose and prepare lunch and dinner menu items for the week. The results, while organized, were not as I would have liked, yet abundantly satisfactory. "Cleaning out" the refrigerator with recipe after recipe, I noticed the tofu (and the clementines). The date of expiration was nigh; the future was now! Something had to be done. What I wrought was a fiasco.

Charred Fiasco Stew

Tofu (firm, coated, marinated, fried)
  -- mustard oil
  -- sweet soy
  -- curry powder
Almonds (fried)
Dried Hot Chili
Shrimp (medium)
Peas
Rice Cake Ovals (boiled in Sea Salt)
Onion
Marinate (remaining for stew)
Soy Sauce

Charred Fiasco Stew

Slump Sump Fiasco

Clementines (boiled, peeled, pulped [liquified])
Wings (fried drumsticks [flour, salt and pepper, cayenne sauce])
Enoki and Crab Mushrooms
Rice

Slump Sump Fiasco

Having eaten my mistakes of progression, I decided to try making something less messy.

Early Easter Ham with a Mardi Gras Glaze

Potato (soaked in Sea Salt)
  -- bake, cut in half, scoop out
  -- toast shell, mash middle
  -- Boiled Carrot [bits] and Shallot [slivers]
  -- Lemon (juice)
  -- Mozzarella (cubes melted)
Ham (hunks)
  -- pressure cooked, divvy cut, baked, then broiled
  -- Marinate and Glaze: dark brown sugar, filtered water, butter, arrow root, molasses
Cabbage (pressure cooked in ham stock, chopped)

Early Easter Ham with a Mardi Gras Glaze

This dinner was not a fiasco. A triumph. Unfortunately this meal will not last in refrigeration until Easter.

Spoils!!!

Attic Rummage Addressing Wounds

2011-02-26T09:44:00.002-05:00

During the past ten days, I have been coming to terms with the details of my writer's block--culling the notion, the actuality of a chronic contagion, the management thereof, diplomatizing my immunity system.

Because of this life-threatening bacteria, I was put into hospital as an emergency patient. Pus oozed from the abscesses on my leg (right shin), which had swelled far beyond what my jealous ego would allow.

Such a revelation for me, not so for the physicians who prescribed the antibiotics and scheduled the surgery to remove pus-balls lodged near my tibia as I had witnessed during my morpheme localized-language anesthesia-articulated haze.

Agglutinative cogent cursed (con)fusion, a skeletal motor-cycle--this is my hell on meals. Let me rev up my chompers. "VROOM," I ached, burrowing my fears, while visualizing this recipe.

Tibia Shmibula (ingredients)

Tibia Shmibula Casserole

Vegetable Spray/Olive Oil
Red Potato Slices (fried)
Oregano Leafs/Shallot/Sun Dried Tomato (all freshly minced)
Blue Cheese (crumbled)
Chicken Legs (parboiled, flash-fried)
Red Bell Pepper (julienne)
Yellow Cherry Tomatoes
Smoked Provolone (sliced)

Tibia Shmibula Casserole (plated)

A constant case history, this persistent pestilence--flushed from the rush undermining recovery, I sit back, validate, moderate, purge.

Phinicky Sports Fan

2011-02-10T20:44:00.005-05:00

These recipes are an expression to help cope with the demographic social pressures that are attributed to an obstinate/abstinent heterosexual male who is a non-practicing Catholic, who is a Phinicky sports fan who presently dislikes watching the game.

Hounds of Philly

Soft Pretzel (sliced, toasted lightly)
Hot Dog (split down the middle, pan fried)
Eggs (scrambled) with Oregano
Mozzarella (shaved)
Quince (cubes) in Tomato Sauce

Coated and Smothered Passion in the Sty

Spice Mix (fennel, chives, cilantro)
Pork Chop
Corn Niblets (caramelized)
Sunflower Seeds (pan toasted)
Duck Gizzard (thinly sliced)
Rice with Ginger (grated)
White Pepper
Olive Oil
Sour Cream

NOTE: I made these two recipes [Hounds of Philly, Coated and Smothered Passion in the Sty] Sunday, February 6, 2011.

So Nice, Made Twice

2011-02-06T00:08:00.012-05:00

When I went to the supermarket on Friday to replenish my supply of mineral water for the weekend, I discovered that there was a one-day sale on avocados and lemons. Yippee!!! I gathered a spectrum of (un)ripe haas and a mesh sack of eurekas.

Haas and Eurekas

Early this morning, before sunrise, I had a hankering. For what? Guacamole! Well, what did I do? I listened to the birdie within me, took a step back, and then conjured this recipe.

New Yum, New Yum: So Nice, Made Twice

NY-1: Flounder fillet, plantain (diced), olive oil/filtered water (simmer saute)
NY-2: Chicken Thigh fillet, plantain (diced), fried
Guacamole: avocado, sour cream, lemon juice

The Amazing Frying Corn Chips! (Lotsa Mole)

Corn Tortillas (pie-cut slices): fried, sprinkled with a pestled sea salt/mole mixture
[NOTE: NY-1 did not include the chips, or jalapenos.]

The idea to use plantain in this recipe came from a take-out meal from Thursday night. The plantain was voluminous enough to sate my early morning need for fulfillment. The chips (and the chicken) made for a dense breakfast; however, the density tampered the intensity of the guacamole.

New Yum Chicken

A fine dine, a sustenant start, and a reminder to return to a fantastical land.

A Narcissist's Day: Lava Love

2011-01-30T14:36:00.004-05:00

Saturday, I awoke, had breakfast (cereal, and a PBJ English muffin), watched the morning news television programs while replying to email and organizing my medical records. After which, I irrigated my nose, then had a bath. While soaking, I finished reading a "controversial" magazine article about carbohydrates, calories and fat.

Taking care of myself and the duties involved, I was having a narcissist's day. This meant attending to my flu by staying hydrated: water, coffee, tea--me!

Throughout the day, I did chores: laundry, dishes, shoveled the car out of the show. I contacted family: email by day; phone by night.

From lunch (a leftovers sampler) to dinner (a well-done turkey burger [jerk seasoning, raw egg, crushed pretzel sticks, and dried parsley] covered with jalapenos, mozzarella, and tomato), I finalized what I would do with the acorn squash purchased a week or so ago. I knew that I had to blog about something, to stop procrastinating, stop watching the on-demand videos that were distracting me from the riotous calls for radical change.

To escape the chaos a continent away, I thought I should stop thinking and start creating. I set the ingredients out the counter adjacent to the refrigerator. Later in the evening, I would make Lava Love.

Lava Love [ingredients]

Lava Love

-- Light Cream
-- Peeled Tomato (hastily mashed [with a fork])
-- Acorn Squash (quartered, boiled, fleshed-out)
-- Butter (stick)
-- Pecan (dry toasted, pestled into pieces)

Lava Love

Today (Sunday, 6:30 am), before I made this journal entry into the blog, I decided that I should grab my grocery list and go to the twenty-four hour supermarket--and fill-up the car's gas tank (more snow this week???). However, I decided that before leaving to run these errands, I should prep for breakfast.

Southwest Philly Steak & Eggs [ingredients]

Southwest Philly Steak and Eggs

-- Corn Tortillas (flash-fried after cut into eighth chips, seasoned with chili powder and lime juice)

-- Firm Tofu (cubed, pre-/post-marinated in cayenne sauce, flash-fried)

-- Beef Roast (cubed, pan-fried)
-- Egg (whisked)
-- Tomato (diced)
-- Cilantro (dried)
-- Tofu (added)

-- Cream Cheese (softened)
-- Jalapeno (chopped)

Southwest Philly Steak & Eggs

I noted to myself, "by Sunday's end, I must sweep and mop the kitchen floor!!!"

Brain Drain: Sombre Psyche Soup

2011-01-22T07:57:00.004-05:00

I awoke early in the morning, before 6am with an appetite and stuffy nose. I had a cold (lingering at present). My breathing was more obstructed than usual. I knew that I should saline-wash my nasal passage to increase my ability to take in air more freely.

Predictably, I thought of a gastronomic solution: chicken soup. I had since grown tired of such a soup: more accurately, an awareness causing a sleepish attitude towards fowl and fish. I figured a substitute for the meat product.

Wrapped tighter than a pig in a blanket, I wandered into the kitchen cocooned in my feather comforter, grabbed some ground beef, coriander leafs (which I minced), and some frozen ginger root (which I grated). Shedding my cocoon blanket, I rolled some herbal meatballs, then pan-fried/sauteed them. I boiled some veggie noodles in sea-salted filtered water. The meatballs were added to the swimming noodles. The pan juices were sieved into the pot, turning the filtered water into a broth. A lid was placed on the pot, leaving the noodles and meatballs to soak, tepidly steep.

Uncooked Meatballs: ground beef, coriander, grated ginger

My nose was clogged (as is now), requiring a saline solution. From my experience recuperating from pituitary gland surgery, I knew that I had to irrigate my skull through the nose, melting viscous mucous, which retains potential bacteria pestilence. Cleaning the cranium, draining the brain, a gross-out from an unlikely spigot, I gathered my tools: a bulb syringe, boiled salt water (at room temperature).

Ed's stuffy nose

I tilted my head back and slowly squeezed the bulb, releasing the solution into my right nasal passage. I tiled my head to the right. The fluid entered the ear canal, softening the snot that began to trickle from my nose once I leaned forward and adjusted my face over the sink basin. I pressed down on the left nostril with my index finger, and gently blew air out of the right nostril. A clearing of the throat, a subtle hock of a loogie. The ptui process was repeated for the left nostril, then again in tandem--enough until fluid easily dripped from the nose when I stood and stared into the medicine cabinet mirror breathing easily.

By now, the soup needed to be reheated before serving. Piping delicious proved my palate: the ginger and coriander, the noodles, the broth, the mushy meatballs made me full-bodied. My belly, from the saline solution and from the soup, was ostensibly bloated.

Sombre Psyche Soup

Tweetledum and Tweetledee (Demo-satire)

2011-01-19T07:06:00.005-05:00

As a fully-employed and involved parent, if I do not have enough time to watch primetime television, what makes me think that I have enough time to blog???

How many 'times'?!?!

ARGH!!!!

Hunting for Groceries

2011-01-16T13:42:00.001-05:00

Saturday afternoon was spent hunting for groceries. My plan was to come home with vegetables to make a soup (I did obtain a couple of acorn squash and spaghetti squash), but I came home with the essentials needed for the week.

I started with produce markets...

Then the grocery stores...

Roughly four hours within a ten mile radius, five stores in total. (I have one more this afternoon.) Living in a well diversified community (culturally socioeconomic), there are opportunities to discover and replenish supplies "authentically" (contextual experience and product packaging)--and to learn what is "quality" (dietary/taste/quantity/safety) in relation to competitive pricing.

Once home, I put away the groceries, washed the remaining dishes, then prepared my dinner: Blue Plate Special [revisited]:

"Blue Plate Special [revisited]"

Pork Chop (braised); Olive Oil, Jalapeno (wheels), Mushroom (button caps sliver-slices), Cilantro (minced); Cheddar Cheese (sticks); Green Beans (packaged); Dinner Roll (toasted, butter).

A Crank's Callings

2011-01-14T00:44:00.013-05:00

I spent most of Wednesday being cranky. From the time I had awakened through the time I went to bed, before and after work, I seemed to made a quite mess of things [non-mentionable] rather quickly.

That evening, I started to log the ingredient combinations from the last two months, while attentively watching TV, then internet video (IV). I did not begin to progress in scribing the documentation until this early morning. Then I had the urge to snack, which I needed to hold-off until my regularly scheduled breakfast feed. I held-off by scavenging my refrigerator and creating another recipe.

Ray[monde]'s Morning Mush

Cassava/Olive Oil/Filtered Water
(slow reduction, food process to smooth the bits into pudding consistency)

Salmon/Olive Oil/Chives (air-dried crumble)/Corn Niblets
Sunny Side Up Egg

Ground Nutmeg
Beverages: Coffee (french roast), Tea (mountain)

Ray[monde]'s Morning Mush

To cook, I rummaged through the sink to find pans, utensils and lids.

This evening (Thursday), I will need to clean--and get back to the IV, and continue logging my ingredient combinations....TGIF???

Mundane Monday

2011-01-11T06:39:00.002-05:00

A somewhat typical evening...

My son and I planned for a pizza dinner. Usually he and I have a manic first day of the work week full of problems-a-plenty, warranting solutions-a-simple. He likes his pizza plain, whereas I am about the toppings. We are both particular about the pizza dough.

For my son, the issue is about taste and texture. While he has not the wherewithal to know the exact combination of spices, the crispness of the dough has to be somewhere between a heated bagel and a piece of toast. For me, the issue is all about the flour. There must be little to no semolina (durum) used in the dough. Semolina is high in carbohydrates. One durum slice can cause my blood sugar to skyrocket. The crust alone can double the count.

Nevertheless, we voraciously enjoyed our dinner, after which he completed his homework before vitamin, ice cream and hot chocolate. I had coffee and tea (mulberry). There were few dishes for me to wash, only those from breakfast. The day concluded with a ninety-minute wind down: TV, bath, debrief/story with mommy, some silent reading before bed.

Mundanity in the best-est.

Edamame Endgame

2011-01-09T11:53:00.000-05:00

When there is respite for breakfast, here is a recipe that might add some esprit to the day.

Edamame Endgame

Chives (chopped)
Sun Dried Tomatoes (minced)
Salmon (flaked)
Soybeans
     -- microwaved pods
     -- hulled
     -- simmered in sea salt (filtered water/olive oil puddle)
Eggs (whisked)

Cheese (shaved)

Rolls with butter and jam
Coffee (stovetop perk)
Water (mineral)

Edamame Endgame

Refreshing Visions Gh(a/o)stly Seeings

2011-01-07T06:11:00.004-05:00

There are times I when wake-up in the morning and I do not want to get out of bed to face the world.

When those days occur, I am glad that I had rested assure elsewhere...even if I had been able to get into bed...

I can count/would bet on the couch.

Breakfast anyone? My treat.

When Light is Not Enough

2011-01-06T06:25:00.001-05:00

Yesterday (January 5, 2011), for lunch, I had a homemade salad. The salad was comprised of:

iceberg lettuce
tomato
tuna fish
chives
banana pepper
mayonnaise/blue cheese fusion/coating
two [½] deviled eggs [details...]

Looking at this picture, I wonder if I was deluding myself about the caloric [and carbohydrate] intake and the costs associated with this meal, a meal that made my stomach grumble hours before dinner time.

DELUSIONAL DIETING Clockwise from top left: sports drink, chocolate chip cookies, bottled

water, stayman apple, salad, crackers

Could this be a product advertisement for a pharmaceutical company?
"When light is not enough."

Cookies and Cream: Tell Me a Bedtime Story

2011-01-04T07:17:00.007-05:00

There was a time when cookies and cream (warmed milk) was not a dessert (or an ice cream flavor [extrapolation cookie dough]), but a bedtime snack: two cookies (chocolate chip, please) and glass (6-10 oz) of plain milk (slightly heated). This combination was a source of comfort before entering the mysterious depths of La-la Land. Also known as milk and cookies, a story (mercurially about La-la Land) usually accompanied the treat. The story concluded once the affectionate confection was completely consumed, or the recipient of the delectable fell asleep.

This past evening, I had cookies and coffee. My niece made some of her (for now and ever famous, expecting to receive another batch next holiday season) chocolate chip cookies. As seen here, these cookies seem quite typical, unassuming. From this aerial view, one expects that the unseen underside of the cookie has a slight char of carbon. One might conclude, I, by obligation, will eat a few of these with a wash-down swig (of coffee) so that I will not feel guilty the next time there is another family gathering or digital communication.

The problem is that I feel guilty for eating the entire bag in one sitting before going to bed. Not counting, there were about eight cookies; two, unfortunately, were not available for the picture. While I did take notes before falling asleep, I woke-up with the desire to tell this bedtime story.

Upon inspection, there was no underbelly char. Instead an unseemly smooth surface as if placed on parchment paper prior to baking. While worth investigating, my interest was elsewhere.

Crispy. Crumbly. Crunchy. Chewy. Creamy? Then I took a sip of coffee. Immediately, I wished that I had not. Fortunately, there were more cookies for me to digest, so my mistake would not be repeated--except to prevent me from engorging. Besides the drink, I was able to pace myself because there was a secret in these textured chocolate chip cookies that preoccupied my attention. This ingredient was the confectionate bond.

Not terribly sweet, a durable cookie--approximately three and a half inches in diameter--did not break into tiny pieces until flat-dropped from a height above four feet. Fortunately, I was given two bags of cookies--and I am not afraid of eating (dry food) off my kitchen floor.

An eerie delight that is to be enjoyed as dreamy longing lasts, and never re-gifted.

I do not know, you tell me...

2011-01-03T08:45:00.004-05:00

Which is worse, ring around the collar or a ring around the bathtub?

I would say, "ring around the bathtub," because the tub does not fit in the dryer!

Mind and Body

2011-01-02T21:14:00.002-05:00

What a launch! You and I have just witnessed my blood sugars skyrocket!

For dinner I had a pork chop encrusted with blue cornmeal. The pork chop lay upon a bed of bok choy and wide egg noodles coated with butter and freshly chopped chives, blanketed with Buna-shimeji mushrooms.

"Blue Plate Special"

About a half hour later (8:45pm), I had a bowl of bran flakes and a few spoonfuls of apple pie. I will spend the next several hours coming back down to Earth, back to a decent C-Level (carb-count).

What a trajectory. Just a few more yummy leftovers to go. I am almost out of holiday (mental) mode. Just a few more bites?!?!? before my head gets put on a spike!?!?!

A Late Brunch...

2011-01-02T14:52:00.002-05:00

I finally got something to eat. Too busy fussing on configuring the blog.

Wow, a waffle with pineapple and maraschino cherries, sugar-free syrup, a scoop of rum raisin icecream--and coffee.

Ooh! Aah!!

Afterwards I get to fold the laundry!!!

Intrducing Marble[wo]man (Ed's Ingredients)

2011-01-01T05:18:00.000-05:00

Welcome 2011!!!I am Marble[wo]man, beginning the decade with a blog with the hopes of posting an EI experience on a daily basis. Check out my bibliography, or my website proper.