Archive | September, 2011

le sigh.

26 Sep

Vacation is over. After 2 hours of unpacking, I now find myself in bed with my farty, snoring bulldog. The closet is back to fully organized…everything back on the bathroom shelves (labels out, of course), and the hair extensions have been brushed, washed, and hung to dry. By the way, I tweeted something about me having a “weave” in for the amFAR event and people went kinda nutzo. “You wear a WEAVE??” “Women are so fake now!” “Why would you have to wear extensions that is gross”. One, why so concerned? Two, it’s just an accessory to make my hair a little thicker at the ends. My shit’s long already. That’s what she said. I have a hairstylist pop em in (or in Italy’s case, GLUE them in, which I hate), and in 20 minutes, you have super fabulous, thick, wavy hair. And if you MUST know, that blue dress I wore…this one…

…was SO tight at the bust that the lovely stylists at dSquared and I decided it would be a great way to cover what would surely be an unsightly patch of boob fat in my armpit area. It worked right? See! So if that’s not a good enough reason to add a little extra hair, then I dunno what is.

But whatever. HEY this isn’t a hair blog dammit why am I so random, let’s get to the good stuff. I will be posting photos of allll our Italian meals a couple times a day all week. Get excited….key words include pig’s lard ravioli, blueberry soufflé, white truffle, baked mozzarella wrapped in parma ham, ohhhhhhhh you will see.

Aaaah vacations. I get VERY noticeably upset the last night of a vacation. Not just sad. Completely and utterly upset. Cranky. Snappy. Your basic bitch, really. In the past 5 years, John has come to understand that this is more just general frustration with knowing that it is time to get back to figuring out what to do with myself. I’ve definitely hit that quarter-life crisis and this vacation had me cringing, just knowing that I really need to get my butt in gear now and figure out a life past modeling. It’s a “glamorous problem” to some, sure. I have been really lucky. But I also skipped college, as most models do since it’s their prime, and there is just such a short window for steady, great work.

So….I am going to go to culinary school. I will be that girl with all the kids who are straight outta high school, the one that is clearly out of place because she barely knows how to write with a pen anymore, it’s been so long. But I’m really excited. Completely confused and nervous, but excited.

That little journey should spice this blog up a bit :)

But until then, here’s to amateur cooking and professional eating!

x

ShopHouse

24 Sep

Been putting off writing this. I don’t know why exactly, and yet I know exactly why. It was boring. And I never became invested enough to really care how this was gonna do anyhow. Basically I was in DC and looked out my window and it was right there. Literally a block away. It was just screaming for an easy blog post. Not that I do things purely based on how easy it would be but I pretty much do things based on how easy it is.

ShopHouse: Southeast Asian Kitchen is Steve Ells latest venture, and with his success with Chipotle, it seems like a good enough concept.

I love Chipotle. But if I get a burrito craving, it isn’t the first place I think about going. Between living in NY and LA, I literally see a clean burrito establishment and immediately assume it. is. shit. I prefer B/C ratings only. I don’t even think you are legally allowed to open with a C in your window, but if you could, you can trust that you are my first choice.

The trickery began early. I mean…look at it. Sriracha in the window? It’s practically trying to mousetrap me.

So there are bowls….you choose white rice, brown rice, or noodles, all of which are just sitting in a tub at the beginning of the line. Can we get some rice cooker action going here or what? The noodles are immediately unappetizing because no one should be okay with cooked noodles sitting in individual glob balls just waiting to dry out. YES I’M VERY PARTICULAR ABOUT MY NOODLES! Anyhow, pick your rice/noodle, add a protein (chicken, pork/chicken meatballs/steak/tofu) then head down the line to add the veggies / curry options.

See now…this is where I’m thrown off. I appreciate options, I really do. But I actually wanted to do a fair review of the place. So what do I do? Do I order a bowl with everything on it? Seems like a good idea, but it can also just be totally overwhelming with a place like this, where I wanna be able to taste everything in a scenario where it isn’t just…tons of shit in a bowl. Know what I’m saying? How should I go about this in the future? Because this time around, I had them put everything in the bowl, which I don’t think was a good idea.

Wishing there was a “ShopHouse Bowl”  of some sort. Something that summed up the place in one bowl but yeah yeah I get it. I create my own mess, that way I can’t reallllly complain when it sucks.

And it did.

My bowl sucked.

It was just…too much. Was this my fault? Yes. I asked for everything on the damned menu — corn, cilantro, green papaya, and the hottest curry sauce they had.

I also ordered a meatball banh mi, a “vietnamese sandwich” in the LIGHTEST of terms. Seriously have no idea what made this a banh mi in any way. It’s like Ke$ha. If we are told Ke$ha is a singer, she’s a singer, whether we personally accept her or not. Cringe. This place calls this a banh mi so whatever, guess it’s a banh mi.

I chose a meatball banh mi, with some sort of faux papaya salad garnish (this was kind of a cool option, as I freaking love papaya salad) and a spicy mayo. What? You have never seen the tiny revolving dish of spicy mayo in your favorite “southeast asian” spot, right next to the fish sauce, sugar and vinegar? Yeah me neither, but it still made the sandwich pretty tasty and I can appreciate an inauthentic condiment if it is just plain delicious.

“Shut up you dumb, rambling, money-grubbing, beard, good-for-nothing, trophy-wife, soul-sucking, piece of shit. HOW DID IT TASTE?”, you are probably saying. Well geez settle down, Mr. Anger McManagement. I will tell you.

Happy now? I hope you Ms. Anger McManagements will at least appreciate this chesty photo of John eating a banh mi with his thinking cap face on.

Anyhoo. The sandwich, it was pretty good. The meatballs were pretty flavorful, but also slightly dry because ummmmm they were sitting out behind a sneeze guard for what I assume was the entire morning. But it’s not a 5 star restaurant, this is Fauxpotle we are talking about. It was tasty and I could imagine grabbing one again someday, granted there was truly nothing else around, I didn’t own a car and was banned from all forms of public transportation. God what is wrong with me why am I so mean I’m sorry please don’t leave me.

The bowl was a different story. It was…paste. But did I make this paste? I have no idea. I guess I did. Maybe that’s how ShopHouse thinks it will make all their money. Us, the consumer, going back 6 or 7 times just to see if we get the right combo of veggies, meat and rice or noodles to make it a winning dish. Then I get it.

I would honestly give Chipotle an A, for what it is. ShopHouse gets a C. And only because the meatballs were kinda yummy and didn’t taste like cat at all. (Don’t ask). I feel like we can all figure out how to make a good burrito. But honestly, I’m not sure how to make a delicious southeast asian bowl and banh mi sandwich…and I am southeast asian.

Anyhow. Try it. Because I think I literally just did it wrong. Let me know your winning combos :)

And let’s face it. This review was all over the place. 1, I’m on vacation, 2, I just missed you guys and I am trying to get back into the passion of cooking and eating after what was kind of a stressful work period.

Here’s the plus side! I am eating WELL here in Lake Como and have SO much to share. Can’t wait for you to see. Sunday is our last night here and we are gonna try and see if it is actually possible to eat so much that it is so highly packed into your esophagus that you can’t even shovel anymore food in. Will let you know.

Xx

Stars! They’re Just Like Us!

23 Sep

They take one bite from each piece of fruit in the fruit bowl, leaving the rest to rot so no one else can enjoy said fruit. NOT NAMING NAMES OR ANYTHING.

Also, in this week’s US Weekly, they actually have this “Stars! They’re Just Like Us!” section that is featuring Jim Carrey eating corn off the cob. Yes. That’s right. Stars are just like us. They chew their own fucking food! Can you believe it!? This sure was great to hear, as I thought celebrities were fed chewed up food out of the mouths of their mothers like baby birds. What a relief.

Pippa

11 Sep

Where is the little monster, you ask?

Well, I left her in Vegas. I wish I could say drunkenly, after a night of heavy gambling. Or that I put her up as my bet on the blackjack tables. But no. it’s a more simple reason: my sister lives there and she has an awesome place with 2 enormous great danes (redundant?) and she is the only reason that Puddy as good of a boy as he is today.

John and I have a busy September, with a nice vacation towards the end. So Pippa is away for the entire month. I swear I still hear her squeaks all throughout the house. And puddy has been on the road with John the entire summer. It took a month before I stopped hearing snorts and farts and realized he just wasn’t home anymore. And I miss puddy’s presence, too. BAD-DUM-BUM! HIYO!

Anyhow. That’s the story. Wish it was more exciting.

x

Hommmme

11 Sep

Home means that life goes back to putting my chipotle marinade on at least 4 meals a week.

Sometimes I randomly crave it in the middle of the night, so I order a 5 dollar chicken breast from the corner diner and cut it up, lightly saute’ing it on a scoop of frozen marinade, since I make and freeze bags upon bags at a time. That has kind of become my late night snack. Good on veggies, too.

This post is basically just an excuse to post it again, because every time I mention it on twitter, 90 people say, “huhhh what where’s the recipe?? and you have a blog?” HOW DARE YOU ASK ME SUCH LOGICAL, ANGERING QUESTIONS, NEW FOLLOWERS!

And if you have made it recently and it was too hot for you, remember to read this whole post, even after you link to the other site about the recipe. I tried to add some tips!

http://sodelushious.com/2011/08/06/chipotle-marinade/

the d word.

11 Sep

“Diet” is a word that I. Just. Hate.

It’s not a word I have no experience with — it’s just the opposite. I have too much experience with it. And they make me so mad. Literally. I am a monster when on a “diet” of some sort.

For me, food isn’t about “fueling my body for the day”. I’m not a fucking superhero (or cop. or firefighter. or really anything else but a mainly stationary model). I don’t really give a crap that food is purely about nourishment and somewhere along the lines we got all caught up in this “tasting good” thing.

I use food to be happy. I cook to make myself happy and to make others happy. “Emotional eating”??? That’s all I know.

Coming back from the most on/off hiatus that I’ve had on this blog, which basically lasted a few months, I think you can tell that I haven’t been completely excited about food. And it all has to do with that stupid, terrible, amazing, waist-changing diet.

As you may or may not know, I went *mostly* low carb for a couple months, and I can honestly say that I will never ever in my life count calories ever again. I don’t know what it was, really, but literally every single day since I cut them (cut them down, not out entirely, I’m not a machine), the weight just peeled off, in all the right places. And by “right places” I mean my face and midsection.

No one wants to hear a skinny girl talk about weight loss, I think. So maybe it would help you to know that I am always. fighting. the chub. It doesn’t help that I have such a love for food, either. Some models I work with, I truly think they could go a few days without chewing something, then at some fancy industry dinner, realize that they hadn’t eaten since last Wednesday. It just doesn’t cross their mind normally, so it isn’t something that consumes their life…like me.

I cheated. I had “cheat days”. But try to make your “cheat days” into just “cheat bites” or at the worst, a “cheat meal” and you will be pretty proud of yourself. It was really weird to go to bed not feeling weighed down, and this was still a feeling I only *sometimes* appreciated, as there is no feeling like curling into bed with a full belly. I love it. But waking up actually feeling hungry? And not just hungry, but kind of starving? That was new to me. And I liked it.

I am notorious for cravings, and commercials are MADE for bitches like me. I see it, I want it, I must have it. And on this low-carb crap (no matter how good it was to me, it shall ALWAYS be referred to as crap) I always ended a meal completely satisfied that I had just consumed all the flavors I wanted to.

No desserts, fruit instead. By the way, fruit is cheating. But when you are eating massive, sugary desserts originally, this diet should shut up and take what it can get. Bread, pasta and potatoes were the only definite no-no’s, and I 100% believe this is what did most of the damage, and by damage I mean awesomeness.

I think you will be happy to know that I still ate shit like this and felt physically better and lost weight:

What is this, you ask? Well after a day of running errands, I found myself at one of my favorite little spots to pop in, grab a drink, and have a bite, alone. Yes alone. I love eating alone, sitting at the bar. Maybe you’ve been, the place is called “Lure” and it’s right in the middle of soho. Despite being underneath the Prada store, and a bit on the nice side, they are incredibly welcoming and cool there, and have a mean happy hour.

I sat at the bar, in the beginning stages of this diet. I asked the bartender what his favorite fish was. He asked me what my favorite fish was, as this is the more obvious question. I replied, “I dunno. I hate fish.”, which isn’t totally true, but I sure love my dramatics. Then he said, “Well, why the hell are you gonna order it?”. TOUCHÉ, SIR.

I explained my sob story about how murdering thieves stole my parents right out of my home right as we were in the middle of family game night, where we ate pasta and and garlic bread and played scrabble and how they judo-chopped my dining room table and, just before stealing my parents, threw the plate of pasta at me and said, “never eat carbs again, bitch, or we will be back for you.” No that isn’t true but it sounds a lot better than, “I have a photoshoot.”

He said, “Oh honey, you are not the only one”, and asked the chef to make me a breadless burger. And then I enjoyed one of the most wonderful “burgers” I had ever had. Not just there, but anywhere. And did I eat the obviously-cheating onion rings up top? You bet I did.

My point is– and if you are new to this blog, I’ll just go ahead and let you know know that the point only comes after paragraph after paragraph of incessant rambling and random stories– that we are all human. We all want to enjoy or bodies and be proud of ourselves, but we also need to enjoy what we eat. It’s not an either/or, and these past few months have helped me figure that out.

Missed you all. I’m back.

xx

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