Monday, October 7, 2013

Say anything about me, say I'm an odd bird.

I spend most of every weekend in my kitchen, simmering sauces, brining meats, grinding spices, mincing herbs, to be able to start my work week with a fridge stocked full of homemade, love-infused foods for me and my guy.  I envision the joy it will bring me to come home from a ruthlessly dull day at the office, to shed my stiff garments, throw on a pair of lounge pants and saunter into the kitchen ready for my 90 seconds to dinner.

But...

Instead, most days I find myself barreling through the door, 5:45pm, ravenous and electrified, T minus 1.5 hours to yoga and no way in hell I'm gonna make it to dinner at 9pm, so it's straight to the fridge door where I stash my peanut butter, at which point I proceed to consume a reasonable but inconveniently timed calorie intake in the most unplanned and uncouth of ways: pantsless, squatted in front of the open refrigerator, peanut butter jar and cap both balanced tentatively on my left paw while I spoon the stuff out with my right, as I gaze wistfully upon my containers of laborious prepped home-cooking.


Here's the view.  I've taken to calling it the Lambdom, due to my recent propensity for preparing all things sheepish in my slow cooker.


Rewind, retry:

Assuming you're not crazed with hunger, here's what you do when your fridge is full of incongruous but viable eats and you're kind of a screen-ravaged zombie:

Pick 1 of each: 

  • CARB: ie. rice, tortilla, crusty bread heel, baked potato
  • PROTEIN: LAMB! or: chicken, beans, tofu, cheese, etc.
  • VEG: spinach, broccoli, that squash you roasted with such good intentions...
  • CONDIMENT: ie. mustard, miso-sesame dressing, jarred salsa, kimchi

Arrange your selection in a vessel of your choosing and nuke it while you proceed to PUT SOME PANTS ON FOR THE LOVE OF GOD HAVE YOU ANY DECENCY and enjoy!!
If you're in a generous mood, repeat for your partner, lover, friend, but be sure to reserve the choicest cuts and yummiest bites for yourself 'cause these are the fruits of your own damn labor.

Disclaimer: I'm back, with less filter, more cowbell.

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