And she's right. It is sad to see one paltry chicken breast balanced on top of 4 asparagus spears and an ice cream scoop of risotto. But it is even sadder (and riskier) to climb onto of one of your chairs in order to just barely reach the microwave to cook your packaged frozen dinner du jour. (What, your microwave isn't precariously balanced on top of your one kitchen cabinet, ever so slightly out of reach like mine is?)
So I've come up with a pact with myself to spend the next year (and hopefully forever) cooking more and eating less. It's going to be tough, because even though I love cooking, I also like nothing more than being able to whip up a box of Annie's Organic Mac & Cheese and enjoy it in front of one of my favorite Television programs. Who doesn't? But I also know that once I make that Mac & Cheese, I am going to eat the entire box, which is at least 3 servings if not 4 or 5 (I'm not sure because I am afraid to check) and even if you use the non-fat yogurt (which adds a nice tang, if I must say so myself) that's still more noodles and processed cheddar you should probably consume in one sitting. And after you are done you will just feel empty inside and probably a little sick to your stomach. And even if you promise your inner achiever to go for a run the next AM to make up for it, you won't. Seriously, you won't.
Thus, this blog was born. A little bit Dinner: Impossible, a little bit single gal searching for her food soul mate, and a little bit disaster waiting to happen. I'm going to cook my little heart out (because that's all it is being used for right now anyways) and share my adventures with you, dear reader. I've watched a lot of FoodTV so you know I am an expert on cooking. I promise I won't make Sandra Lee tablescapes and if I steal a recipe from Ina or Paula I will cut the amount of butter they use in half so you can keep your girlish (or boyish) figures. I promise I won't show up on your doorstep and demand a throwdown. That's just rude.
I do not promise the food will be pretty but I do hope it will be good. On cold nights, I might avoid using my oven because it sets off my fire alarm. I might accidentally insult you when I am really trying to insult myself, but I promise it will be in an endearing, lovable way. Sometimes I might cop out and share a tasty salad recipe. Sorry, I can be lazy. I'm just trying to set your expectations here. I also might rant about the proper storage of tomatoes (do not refrigerate) or what happens when you freeze fresh bakery bread (a bread elf dies on the inside). Take everything with a grain of salt, because sometimes I just make shit up.
Oh, and please don't blame me if your food doesn't come out as good looking or as tasty as mine. That's not my fault. Really, it isn't. It's yours and you probably don't know how to read instructions or calculate how many tablespoons half of an eighth of a cup is, because yes that is a measurement I might throw around just to test you. Be prepared.
From my tiny kitchen to yours (even though likely it is a larger, better, more fully equipped kitchen of which I am insanely jealous), with love, peas, happiness, unicorns, and caprese salads: Bon Appétit.
(Spellcheck wanted me to change that to 'Bone Appetite.' Stupid spellcheck and its lack of French knowledge).
So I've come up with a pact with myself to spend the next year (and hopefully forever) cooking more and eating less. It's going to be tough, because even though I love cooking, I also like nothing more than being able to whip up a box of Annie's Organic Mac & Cheese and enjoy it in front of one of my favorite Television programs. Who doesn't? But I also know that once I make that Mac & Cheese, I am going to eat the entire box, which is at least 3 servings if not 4 or 5 (I'm not sure because I am afraid to check) and even if you use the non-fat yogurt (which adds a nice tang, if I must say so myself) that's still more noodles and processed cheddar you should probably consume in one sitting. And after you are done you will just feel empty inside and probably a little sick to your stomach. And even if you promise your inner achiever to go for a run the next AM to make up for it, you won't. Seriously, you won't.
Thus, this blog was born. A little bit Dinner: Impossible, a little bit single gal searching for her food soul mate, and a little bit disaster waiting to happen. I'm going to cook my little heart out (because that's all it is being used for right now anyways) and share my adventures with you, dear reader. I've watched a lot of FoodTV so you know I am an expert on cooking. I promise I won't make Sandra Lee tablescapes and if I steal a recipe from Ina or Paula I will cut the amount of butter they use in half so you can keep your girlish (or boyish) figures. I promise I won't show up on your doorstep and demand a throwdown. That's just rude.
I do not promise the food will be pretty but I do hope it will be good. On cold nights, I might avoid using my oven because it sets off my fire alarm. I might accidentally insult you when I am really trying to insult myself, but I promise it will be in an endearing, lovable way. Sometimes I might cop out and share a tasty salad recipe. Sorry, I can be lazy. I'm just trying to set your expectations here. I also might rant about the proper storage of tomatoes (do not refrigerate) or what happens when you freeze fresh bakery bread (a bread elf dies on the inside). Take everything with a grain of salt, because sometimes I just make shit up.
Oh, and please don't blame me if your food doesn't come out as good looking or as tasty as mine. That's not my fault. Really, it isn't. It's yours and you probably don't know how to read instructions or calculate how many tablespoons half of an eighth of a cup is, because yes that is a measurement I might throw around just to test you. Be prepared.
From my tiny kitchen to yours (even though likely it is a larger, better, more fully equipped kitchen of which I am insanely jealous), with love, peas, happiness, unicorns, and caprese salads: Bon Appétit.
(Spellcheck wanted me to change that to 'Bone Appetite.' Stupid spellcheck and its lack of French knowledge).
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