I’m in France at the moment. I’m not sure where to begin telling you how wonderful everything is. The people? The food? The pace of living life? The culture? The style? The vastness and diversity of the country?
I think you probably already know, anyway. But if you’ll indulge me when I come back, I will do my best.
Remind me to tell you about the chocolate-making beavers.
Meanwhile, because I didn’t want to leave you hanging for two weeks, I prepped this post for you before I left. It’s the most loving thing I can think of: cookies.
In fact, this cookie is perfectly representative of the French way of doing things: Make everything as wonderful and pleasurable as possible, but don’t overdo it. Maybe I’m biased, but these are definitely among my favorites. They’re chewy, full of good, bittersweet chocolate, a noticeable coffee flavor, and the mellow, nutty sweetness of coconut. It’s like a decadent frappuccino all up in there, in cookie form.
This week… Guys. This week has been taking crazy pills.
Within the course of seven days, I will have gone from staying up for 24+ hours for work-related reasons, to boarding a flight to France for cheese-eating-and-wine-drinking-related reasons. The latter is happening soon–I am leaving tomorrow, and right now I’m simultaneously packing, filling in gaps in our travel plans, deciding whether to return this dress, and trying to tell you about this chicken.
Chicken. Descended from dinosaurs and all slathered in delicious, spicy marinade, then blackened and crisped on the grill. I don’t know where the dinosaurs are, but they are proud.
It’s not “jerk chicken” in the most authentic sense of the word, and I won’t pretend otherwise. Real Jamaican jerk involves more than the correct spice mixture– the meat is typically cooked over charcoal and green pimento wood in used oil barrels (more traditionally) or on custom grills. So… Technically I haven’t had the real thing, because it’s highly unlikely that the real thing exists in North America.
Also, food makes me want to travel. (What up, Jamaica!)
Also, I don’t think serving it with salsa is authentic (beans and rice and plantains=more like it). However, I really really like freshening up something hot, spicy and crispy with something sweetish, mellow, crunchy and fresh.
Well. That’s still happening, but the end is in sight… If you can see 4 days ahead, which is impressive. I will soon be living, cooking, eating, posting (and showering) like a normal person.
(Joking about the not-showering part… Mostly. Gross.)
At some point Sara commented on my current situation, wisely predicting an I-need-a-drank post from yours truly. She was right, and here it is!
Honestly, I’d be lying if I said I’ve been indulging in the sweet nectar that is booze as of late. In real life, I come home most days around 11, stare at the months-old beer in my fridge for a minute and decide I’d rather go to bed. Secretly being 83 years old does not help matters.
However, I made this one. For you, for me, and for us–because it’s beautiful, complex and tastes nothing like it looks.
Well, lovebugs, let us wrap this up! Arrested Development comes back this Sunday, and just in time for the big weekend, here’s a handy-dandy roundup: a neat little package of all the recipes SugarHero and I have been posting all week.
I hope you didn’t mind what so far has been my biggest geek-out over here, and I thank you for tolerating it! Back to regular programming real soon. It’s been too long since I’ve discussed Teen Mom. (For real, how do you even put up with me? It boggles the mind.)
I must confess that I wasn’t an “early adopter” of Arrested Development fandom. When it debuted, I was still in high school, actually–can I use that as an excuse, since we all know that high schoolers are decades away from good taste? (Which is why I should probably worry that my taste in music and books is oddly similar to what it was 10 years ago. Whatever.)
The point I am clumsily rambling toward is this: even then, before I was a fan of the show, I knew of and recognized Tobias Funke as “the guy from Arrested Development.” Of all the incredible characters on the show, I would argue he’s the most iconic of all. The never-nude (that’s a real thing by the way, affecting more people than just two members of the German parliament), world’s first analrapist (that’s analyst+therapist), Blue Man Group understudy, aspiring actor with catlike reflexes, and “Frightened Inmate #2.” Also, most definitely gay, which is obvious to everyone but him:
I don’t know about you, but if this man made it into the Blue Man Group, he would definitely be my favorite.
These waffles are for him, and for you, and for me. Just like Tobias, they are a little… Off, in a good way. As in, I put cheese in them and I’m not sorry. So, BLUE ME, WORLD. (Line of inspirational posters coming soon.)
So, to help you recover, we’re making soup. In honor of Lindsay Bluth Funke, born Nellie Sitwell: charity event-thrower, cause taker-upper (HOOP, anyone?), shopper, unsuccessful business launcher, hands-off mother (to someone who just happens to be one of the coolest characters in television–so “Maeby” there’s something to the Funkes’ parenting style; I’m just saying).
(Yes, if I had children, it’s possible I would gather parenting insights from sitcoms. Let’s all be grateful that I do not.)
(photo from http://fashionandhistrionics.blogspot.com/)
Lindsay is by no means domestic, but when she tries, you get a big spoonful of Hot Ham Water. It’s a fine idea–and revolutionary, to boot–but I’m thinking Hot Ham and Vegetable Water would be even better.