I wasn’t planning on even mentioning this dish. I have no expertise in the realm of authentic Latina cooking and typically leave it up to others that actually know what they’re talking about. I mostly just do the eating. Since, well, that happens to be my expertise.
But it makes no difference because these impromptu tacos and those close to the HungrytoHappy kitchen were at something of a standstill. They were dinner last Tuesday. They were lunch on Wednesday. They were a snack on Thursday. And if that isn’t a good indication of how good they were, let me tell you. They were awesome.
Let me introduce you to a couple of my dearest friends: Kasha and Nicole (unfortunately Joanne is in California and wasn’t physically able to be with us – IheartyouJO). Now, I don’t even know where to begin telling you about these leading ladies of mine. I don’t think I could quite do them justice with words alone. They saved me from being a high school outcast when I first moved solo to this island. You know that scene in Mean Girls where Lindsay Lohan is new and eats lunch alone in the bathroom, thanks to a lack of friends? Yeah, that girl was me! Fortunately, these two girls + Joanne extended their hand out in friendship (or in pity) to little ol’ me.
They rescued me from being trampled upon by the harmful high school herd and saved me from the biting cold of potential ostracism and loneliness. I couldn’t be more grateful. Actually they couldn’t be more grateful – their stomachs, to say the very very least. Continue reading
They really do, don’t they? Think about how many things, good things, tend to come in threes. Let’s see..there are three primary colors, the Lord of the Rings trilogy, the Twilight series (for all you crazed fans out there), the three Musketeers, the three wise men, the Chipmunks, the Jonas Brothers (not really, but I like to joke every now and then) and of course, presumably three meals a day, correct? I love the number three and with the Holy Trinity of this dish being chicken, asparagus, and pasta – my unreasonable love for this inanimate number is only reaffirmed. “Why?” You might wonder to yourself. Because three central things: chicken, asparagus, and pasta combined make one hell of a good thing.
Heck, that hell of a good thing brought forth three other good things. One, I got to cook something new. Two, I saved money by eating at home. And voilà! Three, I get to pass on the goodness to you! Don’t worry, you can thank me later and yeah, I’m sure that it’s a total coincidence that your favorite number magically happens to be three now too.
When I saw this recipe by Ina Garten, I instantly knew that this had to be the next meal I make for three reasons. One, I had a quart or so of buttermilk in my fridge that was quickly nearing the end of its shelf-life. Two, I really like fried chicken. Three, it’s Ina Garten – enough said.
While I can’t say I don’t like KFC (because I’m bad and I actually really really do), this oven-fried chicken surpasses that of Kentucky any day (my apologies, Kernel Sanders). But surely I’m not alone in this love affair with fried chicken, albeit regulated and restricted to some reasonably understandable degree. If you hadn’t already noticed – which unless you are a first time reader (Welcome!), I don’t know how you wouldn’t know – I have an embarrassingly long list of weaknesses in regards to junk food. I most definitely need to curtail the junk-eating and cut the list down to one page, or a side of a page. Hopefully, down to half a page in the near future. But, until then, let’s happily continue on with this confabulation about fried chicken.
Yes, I’m beginning to venture out of my comfort zone and delve deeper and deeper into the unknown. I feel like a little child constantly excited and exhilarated by the seemingly simple aspects of everyday life. For example, spices. We use different spices for baking and cooking all the time and yet, it never ceases to fascinate me. Add a little bit of, let’s see..cinnamon for example, and you have a very unique and distinguished kind of flavor. I especially love how just one spice can embody a culture so completely different from another. Believe me, I’m no where near being an adept baker, cook, anthropologist – whatever, but as I’ve mentioned time and time again, I’m learning more and more each and every passing day.
What I learned on this day making this dish was how humbling cooking can be. To think that I may know a lot about baking or cooking or about food in general is a horrible and ridiculous assumption because what I know comes solely from empirical research and observation with maybe a tiny crazy bit of help from food blogs and shows that are always on the visible computer or television screens within my home. Even with this Moroccan-themed dinner, I’ve only feebly scratched the concentrated surface of what there is to discover about Moroccan food and culture.
Anyway, back to being narcissistic (for today, at least). The members of my household, myself included, have become increasingly self-conscious due to some recently realized and undoubtedly unwanted weight gain. We are getting quite chubbalicious (chubby from delicious delicacies), if you know what I mean. Hence, we have decided to start eating healthier. Well, for the time being or however long my junk food-loving body can withstand. Seriously – I kid you not, I am currently having withdrawals.
While the silly BF has somehow gotten the idea that he can succeed in doing the “Master Cleanse” (also known as the “Beyonce diet”), the roommate and I are slightly more sane – I mean, realistic. Just to fill you in, the “Master Cleanse” is some sort of detox diet that consists of sipping on a lemonade concoction for about 10 days. Think that sounds easy? I forgot to tell you that it’s all you are allowed to consume. Food is absolutely out of the question. This “lemonade” is composed of water, real lemon juice, maple syrup and cayenne pepper. Basically, it’s self-induced anorexia. Okay, scratch that. That’s a little extreme. However, it definitely takes an immense amount of self-discipline to successfully accomplish such a daunting task. I have not yet mastered this sense of self-discipline and don’t tell, but neither has the BF. Sorry babe, but as of right now, I don’t think either of us will be seeing those sexy Beyonce curves anytime soon.