Mama In Stilettos

Bake Off!

So now everyone thinks that I can't cook.  I guess I carry that stigma ever since I set the kitchen on fire a while back. 

Well....I'm baaaaack.  I have to be because of this friggin' celiac sentence that I have been given.  What the heck?  Now I can't pull into Boston Market, order a chicken and side and say I cooked a home meal! Well, I actually could, but then I would spend the next several days in severe agony that I wouldn't wish upon my dog-catcher-calling neighbor ..Well, maybe he could handle that.  Wait a minute.  He deserves a little agony. Anyhoo,  I now have to cook in oder to maintain life inside my body.  Because I have now learned that we all need food to survive.  I tried eating rice noodles for several weeks...Then graduated to chicken and brown rice.  What became of this? SEVERE DEPRESSION where I wanted to shove cake in my mouth (but couldn't) and then wanted to inflict pain upon those who told me "Oh! Don't worry! This is the BEST time to be diagnosed with this! Like, there are SO many gluten free things right now!"  Yeah.  Did ya ever think about drive thru?  Did ya ever think about burgers and fries?  Did ya ever think about pizza? (although? just recently, I HAVE found the alma mater)..But still...Just picking up the phone and ordering something "take out".  Never gonna happen in my world except for like 1 restaurant 20 minutes away, thanks.

Anyways, so I have NO CHOICE but to cook dinners, treats, cakes and breads for myself.  Or risk hurting someone waiting in the drive thru line of the closest Wendys because of my bitterness.  Lucky for me my brother and sis-in-law bought me the ultimate cookbook  for non-cookers, such as myself.  Don't get me wrong, I used to enjoy cooking, but it took so darn LOOOONG.  I'm looking for instant gratification here...Not waiting 1.5 hours for a casserole to cook after it took me 45 minutes to put it together. All I got was a backache and a bad attitude from all that preparation and how it took 10 minutes for everyone to gorge themselves.  

So I just went waaay of subject.  Like if the subject was Massachusetts?  I'm in California..Well, maybe not that far. North Dakota or something.

So I made these FABULOUS cupcakes for my son's preschool Valentine's Day celebration:

Behold the artistry

 

Yes.  They were taken with my phone, so not so great pics...Hey, I was in the car!

I am pretty darn proud of these little delectable treats.  And, no, they are NOT gluten free.  Wanna know why?    Because I made a DELICIOUS chocolate cake (gluten free) with velvet frosting this past weekend that was probably the equivalent of eating a stick of butter when you ate a piece. And guess what?!?! There were LEFTOVERS.  Guess who was up in the middle of the night stuffing her face?  

For my other reason, my dad's birthday is this next weekend and I am making him his birthday cake (gluten free), so I am going to have to eat some (such a cross to bear, I know).  So my thought process behind the cupcakes and the remaining batter that I made into a cake?  Simple: I CAN'T EAT IT.  No getting up in the middle of the night to partake in soft billowy cakeness and buttery cream cheese frosting.  I'm CUT OFF.  I cut myself OFF. 

I'm genius.  

Only, I have to stare as my family eats the cake one piece at a time.  OH THE PAIN!

Save the Basil!

To save or not to save? 

This is the question.

My husband received this basil plant from a patient awhile (like 3 months ago) and I kinda just threw it in the closest pot on my window sill and I swear, it's surviving out of sheer will.  I hardly water it, it's clearly in the wrong size pot and needs lots of TLC.  The question is, is that should I step it up and resign my self into taking care of this plant.  And it's not because I love basil more than anything in the world or anything, but I have grown to respect the plant and it's sheer will to survive.  Perhaps is a wonder ghetto plant that can overcome all of those obstacles and darkness in life and then go to Harvard for a medical degree or something. 

Anyhoo.  

"I'm on my last legs (or stems!) SAVE ME!"

What do you think? Should I put the effort in even though I have no green thumb (or green anything, for that matter) AT ALL .

Dinner Conversations

Another interesting dinner quote from my son (again having to do with his teeth).

"I can't eat my squash and rice Mom-my. It's rotting my teeth.  The squash and rice are going to rot my teeth, Mom-my."

Have I instilled a fear regarding my son's teeth?? Am I a dental nazi? Hey.  I'm concerned about my 3 year old and his dragon breath.  We take dental care seriously.  Excuse me while I go and floss.

Trail Mix Madness

I ate a half pound of trail mix today.  Body?  You've been warned.  Metabolism kick it..Overdrive time.  Bring out the big guns.  I'm not up for gaining the 5 pounds again.

Or maybe I should ration myself?  It's just a little hard when the freaking bag is SCREAMING my name from the pantry.  And whispering my name in the middle of the night. 

But I beat you last night trail mix. I didn't get up and listen to your beckoning.  Round one? Me.  Round two? Trail mix as I can still taste the dried mango.

Darn you Costco! You and your SUPER SIZED bag of DELICIOUS trail mix.

That's it.  No more buying it.  Oh geez.  But it even talks to me in Costco!  And the samples?? Win me over EVERY TIME. 

I know your game Costco.

Fat Jeans

I just had the most brilliant idea.

I am going to open a new restaurant called "Fat Jeans".

You can only dine in my restaurant IF you are wearing your "fat pants".  And can prove it..none of these "I swear! These size 2s ARE my fat pants!"  Turn your skinny butt around.  No entry.  

Dress code strictly enforced.  

No skinny jeans (unless your muffin toppin' it...then I may reconsider the situation..Depending on the size of the jeans AND the muffin top.)

And the food?

Who cares about the food!  Anything tastes good when you're comfortable and don't feel like a stuffed sausage next to Miss America Size 4.  Or Michael Phelps' twin! (although there would be pumpkin pie as a choice for dessert...The "jacked up, pumpkin pie on steroids" kind..A la mode, of course.)

Possibility of a "weigh in" at the beginning of the meal where the patron steps on the scale..And then a "weigh out"...The bigger the gain the bigger the PRIZE! 

Trip for two to Aspen!! (cause you sure don't have to wear a bathing suit there!!) 

Now to find the entrepreneur....Any takers?

Or peeps who would wait in line to eat at my fine dining establishment?