The Regrettable Edible

jello maragarita

You know what the relationship is between inspiration and perspiration? Inspiration allows you to think outside the box, which sometimes leads to magical creations. Perspiration is what happens when life bends you over the Counter of Good Intentions and pile drives your inspiration into deep regret. Case in point; I got a call from a special ‘friend’ who is a single mom with two great kids who are Cub Scouts. My friend has a demanding, full-time job and was hosting her sons’ Cub Scout meeting after work, and she asked me if I could help her out by preparing some lime Jell-o desserts for the troop before she got home. I knew that I would be compensated for this in a way that I can’t describe, so I quickly agreed and went over to her place to make the treats.

While I was looking for some pots I found her liquor stash and unopened bottles of tequila and margarita mix. Suddenly – inspiration!

What if I substituted half the Jell-o water with tequila and margarita mix? If this worked that would be a cool little treat for my friend and myself once the Cub Scout meeting was over and it was time for my compensation. I prepared the Jell-o and added my margarita substitute; then I put the sauce pan into the fridge to chill. Once it set up I’d cut a bunch of small square margarita shots for me and my favorite Den Mother to enjoy later that evening. I still had plenty of time to run out and get some more Jell-o to make for the Scouts before the meeting so I jumped into my ride and took the freeway shortcut to the store.

Uh…did I mention that I live in L.A.? Yeah, well…on the way back I was a quarter-mile from the exit when something happened to the tractor-trailer up ahead and before I knew it the rig was lying on its side across the freeway! The driver got out okay but all four lanes on my side came to a grinding halt. I was gridlocked with no way out when I made a shocking discovery; in my haste to rush out and get the additional Jell-o I had left my cell phone in the kitchen! Up to this point I wasn’t worried that I hadn’t memorized her number because I knew it was in my phone. Perspiration!

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Timpano for Dummies


EP-IC– extending beyond the usual or ordinary especially in size or scope.

THAT’S what I wanted to make this last weekend; an epic dinner. But it had been a grueling week and I was pretty sore after re-launching my workout program, so I was in search of a

SHORT-CUT — a method or means of doing something more directly and quickly, though not as thoroughly.

I’ve made epic meals in the past, usually for a holiday, and it’s always a two day event consisting of creating everything from scratch and working  morning ‘til night just to prepare all of the elements that go into the dish. But that wasn’t going to happen this weekend because I was

SPENT — used up; consumed, depleted of energy, force, or strength; exhausted.

To make matters worse I chose to make the Godzilla of epic meals, the legendary
Italian food-orgy-in-a-bowl; the TIMPANO! And I had already invited the gang over a week ago, who after learning what I was planning to make for dinner proceeded to refer to me as a

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There’s a Lot at Steak

steak chart

Guys, this column is for your eyes only so all you broads out there who stumbled onto this thinking that they might pick up a cool recipe or cooking tip can just stop reading now. This is intended for the Bros and not the Hos, so gals Google Jimmy Choo and we’ll see ya later…

They gone?….Alright then. Dudes, we’ve gotta unite. Time is definitely running out and ours is the last generation before the unthinkable so I’m talkin’ all in and balls out on this one! I’ll get right to the point:

We’ve gotta get the girls to stop eating our meat.

You heard me. Some of you guys love to shove it in their mouth anytime they ask for it but I’m telling ya, you’ve gotta start thinking about the rest of us here. This planet ain’t getting’ any bigger and with the way that the world population keeps growing, things aren’t looking good for us Male Meat Meisters. You’ve gotta face the hard facts and accept that Mother Earth has topped out on cattle production, i.e., those four legged steak factories. The world’s bovine fart chart is way in the red and it seems that methane and the ozone get along about as well as Donald Trump and Rosie O’Donnell, and we ain’t getting’ anymore cows but we’re gaining a bunch‘a new meat eaters everyday.

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Picture This…


There’s been a lot of talk in the news lately about weiners. I mean wieners. Y’know – a red hot, nitrate stick, tube steak, frankfurter… a weiner, or wiener. It’s spelled both ways and means the same thing – hot dog!

Everybody likes ‘em, especially New York City. They’ve got the biggest one. Not officially of course, because I live in L.A. and I can tell you we’ve got some big ones right here. But New York has involuntarily been linked to the biggest and best Weiner ever. So all this wiener talk made me think about the last time that I had my hands on my own frank, and that made me go out and get all the fixings for a solo night of man-sized dog wrangling, which I really wasn’t going to share but…oh, well.

And just as I got started I got a text from this chick I know and she asked what I was doing. I told her what I had in mind but she didn’t believe me.

“Send a picture of it” she texted.

It sounded a little weird but I thought, “What the hell?”

“WOW” she texted back. “Is that all yours?”

I told her yeah, it was mine but it was a little deceiving because I’ve got really small hands and I asked her if she wanted to come by and try it for herself and believe it or not, 20 minutes later she was all over it.

Anyway, this isn’t anything special (I mean it’s no footlong), but it seemed to push her buttons, so I thought I’d share it with you. Just, uh…promise you won’t tell anybody that it’s mine.

Katt’s Cheesy Wiener

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Torn Between Two Loves


We met at this little Italian place downtown. When we were first introduced I wasn’t sure that we would hit it off, but to my surprise, after that first meal together I couldn’t get her out of my mind…

I had grown up with her older cousin and I enjoyed their similarities. Both were pleasurable, warm and inviting. Both were Italian-born and I had learned over the years that each could at times go from being bland and uninspired to rich, robust and addictive. That was always dependent upon where we would meet…

I was torn. Was it right to go from one to the other, day after day, year after year without paying a price for my indecision? But how could I choose? I loved them both so much. If only there was some way that I could combine the delicious comfort of my hot little Neapolitan delight with the classic, saucy, international flare of my first love.

But if I could, what would people think when they discovered that I’ve forced my two great loves to unite in front of me so that I might enjoy their desires at the same time? Would it be moral? Would it be proper? Could it ever really work?….

Aaah, the hell with it! Let’s do this thang!

Katt’s Two Love Spaghetti Pizza

(What did you think I was talking about?)

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It’s ‘National Something’ Day!!!


Nuts! I missed it again! Just like last year I woke up too hung over to remember that it was National Tequila Day. And each time this glorious day is celebrated I think back to that little neighborhood bar that I stumbled into 5 years ago. It was loud, it was packed, and it was National Tequila Day 2008 where I was taught the proper techniques for taking and giving Body Shots, a how-to course on slurping Tequila from the naval of female strangers, and the realization that just because you own a credit card that isn’t justification to scream “A shot for everybody!” multiple times in a crowed bar. It did make me a lot of friends though, none of which it turned out had bail money. But that’s a different story….

The origin of exactly why National Tequila Day is celebrated on July 24th is as fuzzy as my vision on the morning of the 25th. We celebrate Saint Patrick’s Day on March 17th because supposedly that was the day he died. And although I deeply admire the way in which the Irish celebrate the dead, I can remember many a day after a Saint Patrick’s celebration that I too wished I were dead.

But the 24th of July is set aside and solely dedicated to the celebration and appreciation of Tequila! Yaaay!!!!!

(Well… maybe not solely. It’s also National Amelia Earhart Day as well as National Drive-Thru Day which just goes to show how many national observances we have on any given day.)

So raise your shot glasses my fellow Americans and celebrate this smooth, clear, south-of-the-border nectar by licking some salt, tossing one back and sucking on a lime! Or if you prefer the amber brands you can do it like the Germans and lick some cinnamon, toss one back and suck on an orange slice. Either way, get a designated driver and stop at a drive-thru on your way home. Then do us all a favor and like Amelia, disappear into the night. You’re going to need your rest….

National Cheesecake Day is just around the corner!!!

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‘Lite’ At the End of the Tunnel


I’m faced with a dilemma; I live in a land of unbelievable bounty and choice, where an unlimited supply of fresh, affordable and tantalizing food options are available to me 24 hours a day, every day. My car has been transformed into an International Travel Pod, where once exotic and labor-intensive meals and delicacies are now just an arms-length away from my driver’s side window. I merely have to voice my meal mandate out loud in front of a brightly colored menu board full of photographic representations of my deepest food desires. Why, I can even ‘supersize’ my choices, all while sitting comfortably behind the wheel listening to the harmonic melodies of my own choosing.

Up ahead a smiling face awaits at an open window delicately holding my expertly prepared and lovingly wrapped meal, which they conveniently stowed in a festive paper bag. After a quick monetary exchange I’m handed my culinary travel clutche and a tall, cool waxed paper vat of sweet, sweet liquid. “Adios” I reply to my Spanish compadre-in-white. And even before I can merge into traffic my fingers are seeking out one of those golden fried sticks of masterly salted carbohydrates and starch.

Ah, yes. What’s a fat bastard to do?

Man, I am pathetic! I don’t remember what happened to me and my relationship with food but at some point I totally bought in to the  slogans and catch phrases that tell me I deserved it, I’m worth it and that it tastes soooo good! A 1220-calorie Deluxe Breakfast? “I’m loving it!” A 1090-calorie Mesquite Chicken sub? “Mmmm…toasty!” A 590-calorie pack of French fries? “It’s Way Better Than Fast Food!”

I’m to the point now where I call my bib overalls my ‘skinny jeans.’

So it’s back to the lighter fare in this column. I know that it’s not what you eat but how much you eat, however that doesn’t help when I’m making a meal and it turns out so good that before I know it I’m eating it right out of the serving dish and I look up to see my dinner guests sitting around the table staring at me in disbelief. (My friends call it ‘Dinner and a Show!’)

So here it is ESers; a tasty low-cal meal that’s healthy and good for you. Just remember, this serves 6. That doesn’t mean dinner in 6 acts, it means dinner for 6 people or 6 different meals. Just do as I say and not as I do and you’ll be squeezing back into your XXLs in no time! Enjoy.

Katt’s “Now That’s Using Your Noodle” Udon bowl

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