Night of the Living Dread

Question: What do vegetarian zombies eat? Answer: “GRAAAAINS”

I was chomping through my second pound of bacon last Sunday while tossing around some ideas for a horror screenplay that I am writing, and I thought to myself, ‘How sad would it be if after you turned into a zombie you were destined to roam the world consuming only plant-based foods?’ Now THAT would be something that I would dread! Can you imagine? Laying there late at night in your boarded-up home, listening to the zombies munching on your garden and fruit trees? Huge groups of them wiping out fields of young corn and alfalfa, slowly chewing through farm stands like mindless, two-legged cows. And the remaining unaffected humans arming themselves and making a desperate last stand in front of their wheat fields. “Come on you grain eating devils!” a farmer screams as he drives his tractor into a crowd of attacking vega-zombies. “You’ll never take my plants alive!!”

What? Treating vegetarians as spooky, hollow-eyed creatures that repulse and shock us with their unstoppable lust for organic, fresh plants and vegetables? Don’t we do that already? I could film a version of this movie every day if I wanted. I would just sit in the local Whole Foods parking lot around noon and yell, “Action!”

ATTACK OF THE VEGETARIANS

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The Post Breakup Meal…For Guys

If a woman really doesn’t want to know how she looks in a dress, why does she ask? I don’t know either but what I do know is that you shouldn’t say “Like a sausage in a twist-tie.”

Trust me on this one.

Which brings me to today’s topic: The Post Breakup Meal. During the last few months, I seem to have consumed these quite frequently. I’m not talking about breaking up DURING a meal. I’ve been there before and believe me, most red wines leave a permanent stain. No, I’m talking about the meal AFTER the breakup. Some splits are so heart-wrenching that you just can’t eat, while others make you come home and do a fist pumping victory lap in your living room. I’m referring to the day or so after, when you need to be alone and all you want to do is curl up with a good exploitation-beat-down-action-adventure movie, and a bowlful of soul-healing proteins and carbs (along with your favorite bottle of rotgut).

Yeah, guys are different, but we still need sustenance during the healing process, and I’ve got something for my newly solo brothers out there. My go-to meal has to have pasta and a rich, soothing tomato sauce. And usually some meat—which almost always includes pork—but for some reason, this time I didn’t feel like sausage. So, let’s go meatless on this one. I’ll keep it simple, yet fulfilling. Almost as easy as calling an escort service. And a lot cheaper.

Katt’s Soul Healing Tomato Sauce

Ingredients:

¼ cup of olive oil
3 28 oz cans of San Marzano whole peeled tomatoes (Find ‘em…they’re worth it.)
3 peeled carrots
3 stalks of celery
1 large red onion
4 cloves of garlic and 2 sprigs of thyme
1 1/2 cups of chicken stock
Kosher salt
Fresh cracked pepper
1 tsp of red pepper flakes
Heavy cream
2 handfuls of fresh basil leaves
Your favorite pasta
Crusty bread
Unsalted butter
Freshly grated Parmigiano-Reggiano (Man up and grate it yourself!)

This is my stock tomato sauce recipe, minus the cream. You will need either a hand blender (kinda looks like a boat motor), or you can mix it in batches using a countertop blender. Or you can leave it chunky, but blending it imparts air into the sauce, which makes it creamy and smooth.

First, chop up the onion, carrots and celery. Dump them all into the same bowl because you’ll sauté them together. Then mince the gloves of garlic, but keep them separate. Pour your olive oil into a large soup pot and kick up the heat. Sauté the vegetables until the onions are soft and then throw in the garlic. When you smell the garlic coming from the pot, pour in the chicken stock. Garlic will quickly burn if you’re not careful so I don’t cook it too long over a high flame. Let that come to a simmer and cook down for about 5 minutes. Then, add your tomatoes and their juices one can at a time. Use a potato masher to break up the wholes tomatoes before adding the next can. Strip the thyme sprigs of their leaves over the pot and sprinkle them in. Add the red pepper flakes, salt and black pepper to taste and bring it up to a simmer. Here’s where I blend it well. If you don’t have a hand blender, use your countertop blender BEFORE you bring it up to a simmer. Let it cook uncovered for at least an hour. Two or three is better.

Now prepare some salted water to cook your pasta in. While your pasta is cooking, turn the heat off on your sauce and add some heavy cream. The worse the breakup the more cream you’ll need. Mix it well and then throw in a couple of tablespoons of butter for good measure. Next, coarsely chop up the basil and add it to the sauce. I like it at the end so that it doesn’t cook down and lose its flavor. Once the pasta is done, remove it from the heat and take some straight from the pot to the plate. Don’t rinse the first couple of batches. The pasta water will help the sauce coat the pasta. Ladle on some sauce, spoon on the cheese, and butter up a couple hunks’a bread. Pour yourself a tall one and pop in the DVD. It’s been a rough couple of days but things are looking up. Let the healing begin!

Pringles: An Existential Question

A friend of mine recently departed on leave from South Sudan after spending several weeks carrying out aid work. During her time there she witnessed plenty of hardship and suffering, sharing in the day-to-day activities and working side-by-side with the people of this newly formed country.  On her UN flight home she was offered a choice—a simple one, but after many weeks of lentils and rice perhaps a significant one for her.  She ponders:

Existential question: I live in the world’s newest country. On a UN flight today, there was an option to buy Pringles, which I promptly ordered. The flight attendant offered me “cheesy cheese” or “original” flavors. My colleague and I ordered one of each. It turns out that “original”  is actually salt and vinegar here. This begs the question: in a new country, who determines that sea salt and vinegar flavor is “original”? What are the implications of this flavor conundrum? Is this a painful gastronomical residue of British colonialism?

In the grand scheme of things this is a pretty insignificant thought, a lighthearted conundrum for someone who was given a simple choice to entice her taste buds after many weeks of bland lentils and rice.  However, it raises an interesting question: who gets to decide what “original” is? And why do they change it for different regions?

I grew up in Britain, with the same “original” Pringles as the US, so I don’t think the UK had any influential factor here (although s&v is my personal favorite.)  But the same question could be asked for other regions around the world: what determines an “original” palate from nation to nation; it’s not as if lightly salted is defined to a specific region or salt & vinegar has any agricultural prevalence…why do Germans prefer red pepper, Americans plain, Indonesians barbecue and Austrians garlic?

(Photo: Pringles)

Wine Enemas…They’ll Get You in the End

Oh those crazy college kids! What will they do next? Being that I’m a fan of most things alcohol related, I recently came across an article about a college student that was partaking in a little nontraditional wine tasting. That is, he decided that chugging it would take too much time to create a buzz, so he somehow reasoned that it would be better to go in through the out door. This way of introducing alcohol into the bloodstream is faster and consequently more dangerous than sipping it the old fashioned way. He was in fact, brought into the hospital with a 0.40 blood alcohol limit, which is lethal in most cases.

There have been times in the past where I’ve wanted to get a little ‘loose,’ and I’ve partaken in the time-honored method of consuming shots of alcohol in various formats: Jell-o shots, body shots, flaming shots…but never have I thought of applying this technique through my rectum. Call me old fashioned, but I rather like the taste of most liquors, so it seems that bypassing the tongue while introducing it into the bloodstream is cheating me out of a great deal of pleasure.

I’m hoping that this is an isolated incident and that the trend doesn’t catch on, particularly with wine. Wine tastings could become very messy, and the rating categories would change dramatically. ‘Back taste’ would take on a whole other meaning and the serving temperature would have to be a major consideration. Some champagnes and sparkling wine would take your breath away upon introduction and certainly wouldn’t appeal to the ticklish.

I know I’m showing my age here, but shot-gunning a beer or pouring it through a funnel seemed a pretty quick way of creating a buzz when I was in college. Maybe I’m lame but getting drunk by pouring junk-in-your-trunk seems a bit extreme. Food and drink should be pleasurable, relaxed experiences shared amongst family and friends. I hate to hurry through a great steak or rush a lightly iced scotch, so the appeal of getting super blitzed in less time makes as much sense as wanting to get full after one bite.

A word of caution to all my back-door buzz seekers; the main technique used to create a great wine is the same one used to create a great time, and that is control.

Lose it, and it could bite you in the ass.

Burns My Bacon: Burning My Bacon!

Los Angeles is a lonely, desolate place to live if you’re looking for great service and properly prepared food at a restaurant. Especially if you’re spending less than a hundred bucks a plate. Oh, it happens now and then. But it’s really become a sort of Culinary Lottery to actually get just what it was you ordered. The kitchen always looks busy, and the wait staff is usually friendly and attentive, but something happens once you answer their meal inquiries. I see them write it down, or repeat it back to me and nod reassuringly. But then they walk away and sometime later food is delivered by new strangers that then ask me what it was I ordered. “The over-cooked rib eye with the steamed, reheated limp green beans?” Oh gosh, that would be me. I’ve been sucking on the ice cubes of my empty drink for so long I almost forgot what I ordered myself. Could I get another drink, please? “I’ll get your waiter.” Yes, please do. I don’t know why I was thinking that you could get it considering that you didn’t know I ordered the steak even though I’m the only one sitting at this table.

And when my waiter finally does return, I know that they will stare down at my untouched plate, look at me, smile and say, “So how is everything? Cooked the way you like?” Why yes, my heat sensitive x-ray vision tells me that the center of both my entrée and side dish are at the optimum temperature. May I ask you to lean closer so that I might bitch slap you into oblivion?

What the F is happening? I used to enjoy going out to eat but now it’s become like starring in my own version of the Matrix. Do ANY of these out-of-work actors really want to be waiters? Here’s a little test that I did at the last 10 places that I’ve eaten: at the end of my meal I always order a cup of coffee and each time without fail, this has been the response; “Do you take cream and sugar?” To which I always answer (very firmly and with conviction), “No, just black please!” And out of the last ten times that this scenario has taken place, only ONE TIME have I received a cup of coffee without an accompanying creamer and assortment of sugars, sweeteners and pink bags of crystal chemicals. If you’re going to bring me these sidecars anyway, why are you asking me how I drink my coffee? And what other information haven’t you processed? My severe peanut allergy? My request to substitute the potato with more vegetables? Asking me if I’d like bread, and then bringing me a basket of it after I replied “no” doesn’t instill much confidence from my end.

And…what’s up with the bacon?

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Gangnam Style: Grilled Lobster Mac and Cheese

I don’t want to rush ahead, but as you know, November 3rd is National Sandwich day. So I was thinking about my favorite ‘Gangnam Style’ meal to celebrate this festive occasion. Gangnam Style is defined as “Dressing classy, but acting cheesy,” and what better sandwich represents this than my grilled lobster mac ‘n’ cheese?

A little prep goes a long way, and this dish is all about building the perfect lobster mac ‘n’ cheese and then grilling it to perfection between two pieces of your favorite bread. There’s a secret to the grilling process that is worth enduring my lame recipe directions, so hang in there. And besides, this is a great casserole dish without the bread, so you’re getting two recipes for the price of one. You did send me a check, didn’t you? Oh, it’s in the mail?….cool! Let’s do this!

Katt’s Kickin’ Lobster Mac ‘N Cheese

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Alcohol Makes You More Beautiful

Have you ever woken up in the morning to a glass of red wine that just needs finishing? Did you feel too much like an alcoholic to drink it? (I’ve never experienced either of these.) Or, have you woken up on a Sunday, too terribly hungover to even think about consuming alcohol, but have separation anxiety from being unable to spend time with your best friend? I have, and I know you know the feeling. Luckily, the folks over at Buzzfeed found a solution for us: 7 DIY Beauty Treatments Made With Booze.

Although my mother always tells me alcohol does not make me attractive, I beg to differ. Margarita body scrub sure does put a new spin on shower drinking.

pic: humortrain.com

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