I have decided that for my blog post I am going to try things that I have never tried before. The first instillation of my blog is going to be beer related. I know I am taking one for the team here but anything for education. My story starts a little something like this.
It was a Tuesday evening and I decided that today would be the best day to try something new. So, I got in my car and drove to Chalet Party Shoppe (you know its classy because it has two p's and an extra e) where I spoke with the clerk about what beer would be best. I gave her the guidelines that I wanted something dark and something that I have never heard of before. She perused the isles with me and pointed out some off the wall brands like "Old Leg Humper", "Arrogant Bastard"(I have had this beer and it is GREAT), "Moose Drool", and "Horse Piss". After we walked through the isles and she told me most of what I wanted to hear, I told her I was looking for something that was smooth, cold, and I could buy in singles. Then we walked to the cooler and she introduced to me Baltika number 4.
Baltika is a company out of Russia (and a few other Baltic countries .... hence the name) and I was told that it is the Budweiser of Russia. Being told that it is the Budweiser of Russia I instantly thought that it would be horrible like Budweiser is to me. But I was surprised and it was really quite good. The beer itself was dark but it was really smooth. I have noticed that with some dark beers that after drinking them there is a instance after you have finished your sip where you try to exhale the taste out of your mouth as quick as possible and make a scrunched up face. This was not the case with this beer. I found it refreshing.... well refreshing for a beer. They have several different types of beer and they are numbered 0-10, not really the most creative with their beer titles. Here is a link with the information about the numbers and the beer associated with it. http://bravosolutions.com/baltika_beer.php.
After trying this beer I recommend it to all of you who are over the age of 21. I do not promote underage drinking so please wait until you are of legal age. Plus if you wait til your of legal age and you go up to the bar tender when you are with your friends and order a Russian beer your friends will totally think your a bad ass.... this is my opinion.
It was a few weeks ago that I tried Baltika number 4, since then I have ventured out and tried Baltika number 7. This beer is also very good. I like these beers because they are smooth, no after taste, and they are crisp. I wish that I was a sort of beer aficionado and I could tell you what beer goes best with each meal, but I cannot. What I can suggest is if you are looking for a beer to drink that will taste good and would go well with most wings, hamburgers, or pizza I suggest this one.
Stay tuned my next post when I try a food that I have never tried before.
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
The Day I Put the Pills in my Pocket
I wanted to write about a college student's struggle with her food relationship and how it has changed ever since she decided to be medicated for Attention Deficit Disorder. I don't normally talk about it a lot... but that girl is me. I get embarrassed because a lot of people think it is fake, and then I get frustrated because so much of my life-- including what I eat-- is influenced by taking my medication. However, for the log analysis, I just couldn't find a way to incorporate two authors. So instead, I made a blog post about it....in fact, I've started my own blog. You can check it out at www.lettheflamesbegin718@tumblr.com or www.whatsyourwhim.tumblr.com . I'm playing around with a few topics, the whats your whim one is about my life as a small town waitress....the other is more reflective and personal. If anyone else has a tumblr account...let me know, I'd love to follow you. Anyway... here is the post I wanted to be my analysis but, couldn't lol :)
I most recently read a piece by Elizabeth Berg called "The Day I Ate Whatever I Wanted" where she recollects her 24 hour period of attempting to cheat on her Weight Watchers Diet plan without any guilt. She was fed up with pretending like she enjoyed being controlled by the points system. She was fed up with keeping track of every single thing she put into her body for the sake of "nutrition" and "health." She was fed up with her food choice, not really being a matter of what she wanted to eat, rather what she was allowed to eat. Which got me thinking...
I never thought in a million years that a person's food choice could be governed by anything other than what one was hungry for at any given moment. Especially impossible for one like myself who has grown up around a focus on the deliciousness of home-style cooking; and who has grown up with a deep respect for the term "soul food." So, with this upbringing, I ate to enjoy food. I ate because an excellent meal included joyful banter with those around me and usually afforded an opportunity to create situations that turned into cherished memories. So when I felt hungry, (you know, that little twinge of emptiness that sort of balls up right in the pit of your stomach begging to be filled with deliciousness) I began to cognitively flip through my mental filing cabinet filled with recipe cards and menu choices. Where or what could I eat that would fulfill the reputation food had so intricately built in my life?
That question changed with my first 54mg dose of Concerta. I was diagnosed with Attention Deficit Disorder in the third grade, but my parents refused to have me medicated. With good reason I suppose. What energetic 9 year old knows how to sit in their seat perfectly anyway? But, don't get me started on the American Education System...In college though, the inability to focus, I knew, was something I needed help to control. Thus, I researched my options for aid. Little did I know, my improved cognitive skills would completely overshadow my love for food, and the important role it once played would be forever changed.
I remember taking it on the first day and thinking “I better not be pregnant again.” The nausea was overwhelming, and I couldn’t bare to think about any morsel of food at all. This was rather ironic as a heaping pile of buttermilk biscuits and sausage gravy lay enticingly on the kitchen counter begging me to devour them. I dipped my pinky finger ever so slightly into the rich brown gravy and was devastated when the smell made me want to run to the toilet rather than sit with my family and enjoy breakfast. Still, on my forty- five-minute drive to campus, I noticed an extremely improved ability to stay alert and focus, and I felt happy. There isn’t really any other way to explain it. I wasn’t elated or extremely over joyous, but despite missing my favorite breakfast, I was in a really great mood.
Before I knew it, I didn’t really miss food at all. I found out that eating breakfast before taking the pill took away the nausea, drinking water kept the nausea away, and eating small bits of food throughout the day was really all I needed. The mental filing cabinet of recipe cards and menu choices acquired a thick sheet of dust and cobwebs as food was no longer an entity that defined me as a person. In fact, I started to honestly forget what being hungry felt like. After my body got used to the medication, even thought I wasn’t hungry, I began to look at the food I once loved and longed to consume it with the zest I once did. I looked at the menu at our local diner “Cast Away’s” wishing with the utmost passionate strength that I could fulfill my craving for loaded mashed potatoes just this once. They tasted just like Grandma Howe made. Last Thanksgiving, my daughter tasted her first spoonful of loaded mashed potatoes and it was love at first bite. She looked at her daddy and said “Grandma’s tatoes rule your tatoes” and everyone laughed till tears poured down their cheeks. By the end of the afternoon there wasn’t even a dollop of loaded mashed potatoes left. We were all full then. Happy. But back to reality in Cast Away’s humble dining area, I knew if I ordered the mashed potatoes, I’d make myself sick both emotionally and physically. The desire to experience the smooth, thick texture of potatoes mixed with pieces of hickory-smoked bacon and chives would not be allowed to prevail when my appetite was no longer existent. I got vegetable soup instead.
Three years later, my love for food seems more remembered than experienced. It is more described and talked about than acted upon. My love for food now, almost seems like a made up fairytale you’d read to remember your favorite childhood memories. It is like a topic I find interesting to write about rather than a tradition, a way of life, which actually shaped who I am. I don’t want to lose my love. I don’t want to forget what it feels like to be hungry in the first place. ADD is no longer wearing the pants in my relationship with food—At least for today. I decided, with Thanksgiving coming up, I was going to put the pill in my pocket, and let the feeling of hunger and craving, only once remembered, come to the forefront of my brain and take over.
I woke up and decided to go to the local coffee shop “Java Trail.” I frequently visited the shop, ran by husband and wife when I was younger. I got choco-chip frappes and homemade cinnamon rolls that oozed icing from the inside. They were always warm when you bought them like the couple just baked all day, waiting for you to come in. They also had this egg and cheese casserole. I don’t know how they made it, but they had this little indoor garden that they grew vegetables to make their own salsa all year round, and that’s what I wanted. I wasn’t really hungry, I didn’t think, but I wanted to start the day off right. I bought a large white chocolate mocha and a single serving cheese and egg casserole with a side of salsa and sour cream. I also bought a huge chocolate chip cookie… just because they looked good and I knew I would be able to eat it today…sometime. Caidence would like to share it with me at least. Anyway, as I sat there with the steaming bowl in front of me, I sprinkled a little salt and red pepper, and thought “Now, I am going to savor every single bite of this casserole and fully experience the gooey cheese mixed with soft fluffy eggs and spicy hot chunky salsa draped over cool velvety sour cream.” My mouth actually began to water. It was delicious, but I could only get through half of it. I guess some girls would call this a blessing. I mean I could not finish a casserole serving that was maybe 3 or 4 inches in diameter. But, I wanted to. I wanted to eat the whole thing. I wanted to finish it. Even without the medicine, my body was not used to this kind of food, and it filled up. It shut down. I was done. I boxed it up like I box most servings from restaurants and drove home feeling like maybe this wasn’t a good idea after all.
I was full and lethargic. I didn’t have any motivation at all for the rest of the early morning. I felt sluggish and kind of fat. You know that feeling when you ate too much? You can’t suck it in anymore because there’s nowhere for the stomach to suck to? It’s the point where you take off your little red high belt, meant to accentuate the waist, because you can’t really breath anymore. So I laid there…for probably about an hour and 15 minutes waiting for everyone else to get up. I think I had a dream about Bob Evan’s breakfast because when Caidence and Patrick woke up, I cooked breakfast for them. The same biscuits and gravy that once made me sick, now smelled delicious. As I dipped my pinky in the thick brown gravy, I thought mmmm I’ll just have a few spoonfuls. I did. But I was still extremely full, so I could fully enjoy the meal I prepared. This wasn’t fair. I wanted to eat. I guess one day wasn’t enough.
The rest of the day went much the same. Stuffed pita pockets for lunch with red bell pepper and garlic parmesan sauce dripping in the middle. I added a few black olives and diced turkey meatballs too. Caidence sat at the dinner silent. I watched her eat because I had already eaten half of mine and felt too full to finish the rest. She said “Good Mommy!” kind of like the way we say “Good Dog!” but, I knew she was really saying “Thanks for this awesome pita pocket.” She ate the whole thing. And as she licked the parmesan sauce off her little stubby fingers, I envied her ability to still be happy after eating the whole meal. She licked the last thumb one more time and said “Lets play!” She was full, but satisfied. I was full, and paralyzed after only half of the lunch she ate.
We went to Grandma Howe’s for dinner. On the way there, I spilt the giant chocolate chip cookie three ways with Caidence and Patrick. It was delicious, and just the right size. I walked in Grandma’s bright green front door, and automatically knew, that my life was still ran by Concerta. The smell of freshly baked bread made me think about eating 3 slices of it just because I didn’t take my medicine that day. I was thinking about eating all of the things I never got to eat while taking the medicine, so I could enjoy the time with the people I loved and the food so close to my heart just like I used to; and I tried to indulge myself every step of the way. In that sense, it didn’t matter whether I took the medicine or not, each choice for food was governed by whether I had taken my medicine that day… or not. I realized that, eating like I used to really was an experience of the past. It is something I can look back fondly on and reminisce about. But, I still love the feeling I get when watching other people enjoy the food I make. I still love going out to dinner even if I never finish even half of a restaurant serving. So the WAY I enjoy food is different…but the DEGREE is still the same. I realized my life is no less shaped by food today, in fact, it may be even more influenced by it than it ever was. Food and I will always be lovers. We may have moved past the honeymoon phase when I eat lots and lots of whatever I want. But, when I take my pills out of my pocket tomorrow, I will swallow 54mg of Concerta knowing that choosing to make my ability to focus a priority is not breaking off my love for food…merely re-shaping the way we show affection. Which reminds me… how I choose food is still governed by whatever I feel like eating at the moment… its just lately, with Concerta, what I feel like eating is a little bit different.
I most recently read a piece by Elizabeth Berg called "The Day I Ate Whatever I Wanted" where she recollects her 24 hour period of attempting to cheat on her Weight Watchers Diet plan without any guilt. She was fed up with pretending like she enjoyed being controlled by the points system. She was fed up with keeping track of every single thing she put into her body for the sake of "nutrition" and "health." She was fed up with her food choice, not really being a matter of what she wanted to eat, rather what she was allowed to eat. Which got me thinking...
I never thought in a million years that a person's food choice could be governed by anything other than what one was hungry for at any given moment. Especially impossible for one like myself who has grown up around a focus on the deliciousness of home-style cooking; and who has grown up with a deep respect for the term "soul food." So, with this upbringing, I ate to enjoy food. I ate because an excellent meal included joyful banter with those around me and usually afforded an opportunity to create situations that turned into cherished memories. So when I felt hungry, (you know, that little twinge of emptiness that sort of balls up right in the pit of your stomach begging to be filled with deliciousness) I began to cognitively flip through my mental filing cabinet filled with recipe cards and menu choices. Where or what could I eat that would fulfill the reputation food had so intricately built in my life?
That question changed with my first 54mg dose of Concerta. I was diagnosed with Attention Deficit Disorder in the third grade, but my parents refused to have me medicated. With good reason I suppose. What energetic 9 year old knows how to sit in their seat perfectly anyway? But, don't get me started on the American Education System...In college though, the inability to focus, I knew, was something I needed help to control. Thus, I researched my options for aid. Little did I know, my improved cognitive skills would completely overshadow my love for food, and the important role it once played would be forever changed.
I remember taking it on the first day and thinking “I better not be pregnant again.” The nausea was overwhelming, and I couldn’t bare to think about any morsel of food at all. This was rather ironic as a heaping pile of buttermilk biscuits and sausage gravy lay enticingly on the kitchen counter begging me to devour them. I dipped my pinky finger ever so slightly into the rich brown gravy and was devastated when the smell made me want to run to the toilet rather than sit with my family and enjoy breakfast. Still, on my forty- five-minute drive to campus, I noticed an extremely improved ability to stay alert and focus, and I felt happy. There isn’t really any other way to explain it. I wasn’t elated or extremely over joyous, but despite missing my favorite breakfast, I was in a really great mood.
Before I knew it, I didn’t really miss food at all. I found out that eating breakfast before taking the pill took away the nausea, drinking water kept the nausea away, and eating small bits of food throughout the day was really all I needed. The mental filing cabinet of recipe cards and menu choices acquired a thick sheet of dust and cobwebs as food was no longer an entity that defined me as a person. In fact, I started to honestly forget what being hungry felt like. After my body got used to the medication, even thought I wasn’t hungry, I began to look at the food I once loved and longed to consume it with the zest I once did. I looked at the menu at our local diner “Cast Away’s” wishing with the utmost passionate strength that I could fulfill my craving for loaded mashed potatoes just this once. They tasted just like Grandma Howe made. Last Thanksgiving, my daughter tasted her first spoonful of loaded mashed potatoes and it was love at first bite. She looked at her daddy and said “Grandma’s tatoes rule your tatoes” and everyone laughed till tears poured down their cheeks. By the end of the afternoon there wasn’t even a dollop of loaded mashed potatoes left. We were all full then. Happy. But back to reality in Cast Away’s humble dining area, I knew if I ordered the mashed potatoes, I’d make myself sick both emotionally and physically. The desire to experience the smooth, thick texture of potatoes mixed with pieces of hickory-smoked bacon and chives would not be allowed to prevail when my appetite was no longer existent. I got vegetable soup instead.
Three years later, my love for food seems more remembered than experienced. It is more described and talked about than acted upon. My love for food now, almost seems like a made up fairytale you’d read to remember your favorite childhood memories. It is like a topic I find interesting to write about rather than a tradition, a way of life, which actually shaped who I am. I don’t want to lose my love. I don’t want to forget what it feels like to be hungry in the first place. ADD is no longer wearing the pants in my relationship with food—At least for today. I decided, with Thanksgiving coming up, I was going to put the pill in my pocket, and let the feeling of hunger and craving, only once remembered, come to the forefront of my brain and take over.
I woke up and decided to go to the local coffee shop “Java Trail.” I frequently visited the shop, ran by husband and wife when I was younger. I got choco-chip frappes and homemade cinnamon rolls that oozed icing from the inside. They were always warm when you bought them like the couple just baked all day, waiting for you to come in. They also had this egg and cheese casserole. I don’t know how they made it, but they had this little indoor garden that they grew vegetables to make their own salsa all year round, and that’s what I wanted. I wasn’t really hungry, I didn’t think, but I wanted to start the day off right. I bought a large white chocolate mocha and a single serving cheese and egg casserole with a side of salsa and sour cream. I also bought a huge chocolate chip cookie… just because they looked good and I knew I would be able to eat it today…sometime. Caidence would like to share it with me at least. Anyway, as I sat there with the steaming bowl in front of me, I sprinkled a little salt and red pepper, and thought “Now, I am going to savor every single bite of this casserole and fully experience the gooey cheese mixed with soft fluffy eggs and spicy hot chunky salsa draped over cool velvety sour cream.” My mouth actually began to water. It was delicious, but I could only get through half of it. I guess some girls would call this a blessing. I mean I could not finish a casserole serving that was maybe 3 or 4 inches in diameter. But, I wanted to. I wanted to eat the whole thing. I wanted to finish it. Even without the medicine, my body was not used to this kind of food, and it filled up. It shut down. I was done. I boxed it up like I box most servings from restaurants and drove home feeling like maybe this wasn’t a good idea after all.
I was full and lethargic. I didn’t have any motivation at all for the rest of the early morning. I felt sluggish and kind of fat. You know that feeling when you ate too much? You can’t suck it in anymore because there’s nowhere for the stomach to suck to? It’s the point where you take off your little red high belt, meant to accentuate the waist, because you can’t really breath anymore. So I laid there…for probably about an hour and 15 minutes waiting for everyone else to get up. I think I had a dream about Bob Evan’s breakfast because when Caidence and Patrick woke up, I cooked breakfast for them. The same biscuits and gravy that once made me sick, now smelled delicious. As I dipped my pinky in the thick brown gravy, I thought mmmm I’ll just have a few spoonfuls. I did. But I was still extremely full, so I could fully enjoy the meal I prepared. This wasn’t fair. I wanted to eat. I guess one day wasn’t enough.
The rest of the day went much the same. Stuffed pita pockets for lunch with red bell pepper and garlic parmesan sauce dripping in the middle. I added a few black olives and diced turkey meatballs too. Caidence sat at the dinner silent. I watched her eat because I had already eaten half of mine and felt too full to finish the rest. She said “Good Mommy!” kind of like the way we say “Good Dog!” but, I knew she was really saying “Thanks for this awesome pita pocket.” She ate the whole thing. And as she licked the parmesan sauce off her little stubby fingers, I envied her ability to still be happy after eating the whole meal. She licked the last thumb one more time and said “Lets play!” She was full, but satisfied. I was full, and paralyzed after only half of the lunch she ate.
We went to Grandma Howe’s for dinner. On the way there, I spilt the giant chocolate chip cookie three ways with Caidence and Patrick. It was delicious, and just the right size. I walked in Grandma’s bright green front door, and automatically knew, that my life was still ran by Concerta. The smell of freshly baked bread made me think about eating 3 slices of it just because I didn’t take my medicine that day. I was thinking about eating all of the things I never got to eat while taking the medicine, so I could enjoy the time with the people I loved and the food so close to my heart just like I used to; and I tried to indulge myself every step of the way. In that sense, it didn’t matter whether I took the medicine or not, each choice for food was governed by whether I had taken my medicine that day… or not. I realized that, eating like I used to really was an experience of the past. It is something I can look back fondly on and reminisce about. But, I still love the feeling I get when watching other people enjoy the food I make. I still love going out to dinner even if I never finish even half of a restaurant serving. So the WAY I enjoy food is different…but the DEGREE is still the same. I realized my life is no less shaped by food today, in fact, it may be even more influenced by it than it ever was. Food and I will always be lovers. We may have moved past the honeymoon phase when I eat lots and lots of whatever I want. But, when I take my pills out of my pocket tomorrow, I will swallow 54mg of Concerta knowing that choosing to make my ability to focus a priority is not breaking off my love for food…merely re-shaping the way we show affection. Which reminds me… how I choose food is still governed by whatever I feel like eating at the moment… its just lately, with Concerta, what I feel like eating is a little bit different.
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Just for Fun
I don't know about y'all, but I am just done with this semester. The reading (oy), the papers (oof), and the stress of having to have it all in by tomorrow (oops). I am wiped out.
So, what do you do when you're feeling the crunch, when you've worked for 8 hours straight on a Sunday to try and get caught up, and you still aren't caught up? I find that drinking helps. Just kidding. Maybe. Okay, so drinking probably isn't a great idea unless you're absolutely finished with all your school work, so I decided to write a little blog post and share some pictures that I took when researching my gender paper. You know, distract myself in a productive-ish way.
The thesis of my gender paper was that hard liquors like whiskey and bourbon are marketed with men in mind, while wines and sweet drinks are targeted toward women, so I needed to do research, right? I trotted off to City-Wide Liquors downtown to take some pictures of different types of bottles to see if I was right (and also just because I like looking at all the different labels). It turns out, I was semi-correct
in my thesis. All of the whiskey bottles were definitely targeted at men, with their plain, monotone, and for the most part, boring labels. I do like the name "Death's Door," though, and Harrison is my nephew's name, so YAY. The wines were in large part marketed for female consumers, with feminine names and colors and artwork that appeals to women, but as I walked through City-Wide's extensive collection, I realized that the drier wines usually had more masculine labels than the sweeter wines.
While I took a ton of pictures, I'll just share some of my favorite wine labels with you. For the most part the ones that were my favorites weren't the most feminine choices.
I love the artwork of the one at the left, it's just so cute! I love th
e lady's pin-up style, and that the man is stepping on her foot. Adorable. This is a bottle I'd buy just for the label. Admit it, you do that sometimes, too, right?
The one at right caught my eye because it's just so different from any other label I've ever seen on a wine bottle. It's kind of creepy, like maybe if you drink this one, you'll be transported to a scary circus run by half-monsters who breathe fire and eat babies.
The one calle
d "Bitch" really caught my eye. I could picture it filling the shopping cart of a maid of honor who's planning a bridal shower or bachelorette party. I imagine it being drunk out of pink, bedazzled goblets by 22-year-old women wearing penis-shaped earrings. They'r
e laughing and yelling at each other obnoxiously, and of course they're calling each other "bitch" and "whore."
I love, love, love the one at right. The colors are just so vivid, and it looks like a poster one may have seen decades ago, advertising the rodeo that was coming to town. From the font to the image, whoever put together this label did an excellent job.
This one at left I loved for its simplicity. The label tells us that it's rare and special, something reserved for only true fans. The B side is a sweet surprise.
So which one did I take home? This one at right, Phantom. It wa
s one of the first bottles I looked at, and it had a spooky little story on the back. Something about going downstairs into a dark basement all alone and feeling like there was someone there waiting for you. It was fairly good, but had a strange aftertaste...a phantom flavor, if you will.
All in all, a fun trip to the liquor store. Also, just so's ya know, the City-Wide on Jefferson holds free wine (and sometimes beer and mead) tastings every Thursday from 5-7 pm. All you need to bring is your I.D. If you like wine, you won't be disappointed. The labels that share their products are always very knowledgeable about their libations. My estimate is that you'll come away from it with a total of two glasses of wine in your gut, and you'll be sure to try at least one that you really like and can take home (or come back for in the future). Here's my advice: go there, taste everything, maybe buy a bottle, then go home and share dinner with your significant other. Voila! Cheap date.
Edited to add: Nate's comment reminded me that I had one more photo to share, but forgot because I saw it on a different trip to the store. This is maybe the funniest name/label for a type of drink ever. After I saw this, I kept thinking of ways someone might add it into conversation. For example, "We went to the liquor store, then went home and had some delicious Hot Sex," or "Do you sell Hot Sex?" I laughed a lot thinking about this. I wondered what it tastes like, so I looked up how to make Hot Sex - The Drink. It includes grenadine, orange juice, and triple sec. Wonder why it's called Hot Sex? Since it's a sweet drink, I assume it's a "girlie" drink. Does it, then, make women want to have sex? What are your thoughts?
So, what do you do when you're feeling the crunch, when you've worked for 8 hours straight on a Sunday to try and get caught up, and you still aren't caught up? I find that drinking helps. Just kidding. Maybe. Okay, so drinking probably isn't a great idea unless you're absolutely finished with all your school work, so I decided to write a little blog post and share some pictures that I took when researching my gender paper. You know, distract myself in a productive-ish way.
The thesis of my gender paper was that hard liquors like whiskey and bourbon are marketed with men in mind, while wines and sweet drinks are targeted toward women, so I needed to do research, right? I trotted off to City-Wide Liquors downtown to take some pictures of different types of bottles to see if I was right (and also just because I like looking at all the different labels). It turns out, I was semi-correct
in my thesis. All of the whiskey bottles were definitely targeted at men, with their plain, monotone, and for the most part, boring labels. I do like the name "Death's Door," though, and Harrison is my nephew's name, so YAY. The wines were in large part marketed for female consumers, with feminine names and colors and artwork that appeals to women, but as I walked through City-Wide's extensive collection, I realized that the drier wines usually had more masculine labels than the sweeter wines.
While I took a ton of pictures, I'll just share some of my favorite wine labels with you. For the most part the ones that were my favorites weren't the most feminine choices.
I love the artwork of the one at the left, it's just so cute! I love th
e lady's pin-up style, and that the man is stepping on her foot. Adorable. This is a bottle I'd buy just for the label. Admit it, you do that sometimes, too, right?The one at right caught my eye because it's just so different from any other label I've ever seen on a wine bottle. It's kind of creepy, like maybe if you drink this one, you'll be transported to a scary circus run by half-monsters who breathe fire and eat babies.
The one calle
d "Bitch" really caught my eye. I could picture it filling the shopping cart of a maid of honor who's planning a bridal shower or bachelorette party. I imagine it being drunk out of pink, bedazzled goblets by 22-year-old women wearing penis-shaped earrings. They'r
e laughing and yelling at each other obnoxiously, and of course they're calling each other "bitch" and "whore."I love, love, love the one at right. The colors are just so vivid, and it looks like a poster one may have seen decades ago, advertising the rodeo that was coming to town. From the font to the image, whoever put together this label did an excellent job.
This one at left I loved for its simplicity. The label tells us that it's rare and special, something reserved for only true fans. The B side is a sweet surprise.So which one did I take home? This one at right, Phantom. It wa
s one of the first bottles I looked at, and it had a spooky little story on the back. Something about going downstairs into a dark basement all alone and feeling like there was someone there waiting for you. It was fairly good, but had a strange aftertaste...a phantom flavor, if you will.All in all, a fun trip to the liquor store. Also, just so's ya know, the City-Wide on Jefferson holds free wine (and sometimes beer and mead) tastings every Thursday from 5-7 pm. All you need to bring is your I.D. If you like wine, you won't be disappointed. The labels that share their products are always very knowledgeable about their libations. My estimate is that you'll come away from it with a total of two glasses of wine in your gut, and you'll be sure to try at least one that you really like and can take home (or come back for in the future). Here's my advice: go there, taste everything, maybe buy a bottle, then go home and share dinner with your significant other. Voila! Cheap date.
Edited to add: Nate's comment reminded me that I had one more photo to share, but forgot because I saw it on a different trip to the store. This is maybe the funniest name/label for a type of drink ever. After I saw this, I kept thinking of ways someone might add it into conversation. For example, "We went to the liquor store, then went home and had some delicious Hot Sex," or "Do you sell Hot Sex?" I laughed a lot thinking about this. I wondered what it tastes like, so I looked up how to make Hot Sex - The Drink. It includes grenadine, orange juice, and triple sec. Wonder why it's called Hot Sex? Since it's a sweet drink, I assume it's a "girlie" drink. Does it, then, make women want to have sex? What are your thoughts?
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
A Food Dictionary (yay!)
Hi again everyone!
Okay, so, I've noticed in class that we've brought up time and time again how it is difficult to follow through with some recipes simply because we are not in the area to buy the food product or the tool to make the meal, or simply because we do not know how to use the tool or specifically what that food item in the ingredients list...is.
I'll openly admit that I am in that boat; I just got married this summer, and prior to that, my mother did not allow me to help out or cook in the kitchen hardly at all (unless it was something very simple like making brownies, toasts or hot dogs) simply because of time constraints. So, since then, I've been trying out with my husband many, many, many recipes that I've always wanted to make or even haven't seen before (and that have, fortunately, turned out). But, there are still many things I would like to cook but avoid because of unfamiliar ingredients and such.
So, I did some searching.
I found an online dictionary that is specifically about food and for food preparation. Whether you want to know what that ingredient is or what that tool is used for, you can type it in and read through the results.
I also thought this would be helpful for our food log, because - at least in the cases that I've found - it also lists the origin of the food.
I will admit, however, that I have not compared it yet to other dictionaries to see how consistent the definitions are and am not sure if everything is accurate, but I figured it was a good starting place.
Here's the link: http://www.epicurious.com/tools/fooddictionary
I hope you all find it useful!
Okay, so, I've noticed in class that we've brought up time and time again how it is difficult to follow through with some recipes simply because we are not in the area to buy the food product or the tool to make the meal, or simply because we do not know how to use the tool or specifically what that food item in the ingredients list...is.
I'll openly admit that I am in that boat; I just got married this summer, and prior to that, my mother did not allow me to help out or cook in the kitchen hardly at all (unless it was something very simple like making brownies, toasts or hot dogs) simply because of time constraints. So, since then, I've been trying out with my husband many, many, many recipes that I've always wanted to make or even haven't seen before (and that have, fortunately, turned out). But, there are still many things I would like to cook but avoid because of unfamiliar ingredients and such.
So, I did some searching.
I found an online dictionary that is specifically about food and for food preparation. Whether you want to know what that ingredient is or what that tool is used for, you can type it in and read through the results.
I also thought this would be helpful for our food log, because - at least in the cases that I've found - it also lists the origin of the food.
I will admit, however, that I have not compared it yet to other dictionaries to see how consistent the definitions are and am not sure if everything is accurate, but I figured it was a good starting place.
Here's the link: http://www.epicurious.com/tools/fooddictionary
I hope you all find it useful!
A Secret at the McDonald's Headquarters (Rated D for Disturbing)
Hi everyone,
So, I was wandering around online the other day and discovered the link that I have posted below about McDonald's. You remember that little piece of trivia that Coca-Cola can remove rust from a vehicle? This is up there in that disturbing arena; the McDonald's signature burger takes years to decompose (if, in theory, it ever decomposes).
Now, I'll warn you, there are a lot of discrepancies. Some readers bought right in to this woman's story and photo series, but others believe that she took pictures of different burgers over time and that there is no way that food would be sold that's potentially so harmful.
Also, McDonald's stated that they do not use preservatives (which, of course they're going to say that! What else are they going to say? "Yes, we are damaging your liver"?). However, there is a book floating around out there in library/cyberspace somewhere that's dedicated to just how McDonald's food is made (how all the fries are all the same size and color, pretty consistently, etc), which doesn't prove McDonald's as preservative-free at all. . .
I haven't actually read that book yet, and I'll get back to you on the name of the book once I've found it (it was recommended to me a few years ago now), but something I did in place of that was go to Google and type in how "McDonald's cheeseburgers are made" (and then you can factor in french fries or what have you). Again, there are a lot of discrepancies, but that doesn't mean it isn't interesting to think about. . .
Finally, here's the link: http://news.yahoo.com/s/yblog_upshot/20101012/bs_yblog_upshot/mcdonalds-happy-meal-resists-decomposition-for-six-months
So, I was wandering around online the other day and discovered the link that I have posted below about McDonald's. You remember that little piece of trivia that Coca-Cola can remove rust from a vehicle? This is up there in that disturbing arena; the McDonald's signature burger takes years to decompose (if, in theory, it ever decomposes).
Now, I'll warn you, there are a lot of discrepancies. Some readers bought right in to this woman's story and photo series, but others believe that she took pictures of different burgers over time and that there is no way that food would be sold that's potentially so harmful.
Also, McDonald's stated that they do not use preservatives (which, of course they're going to say that! What else are they going to say? "Yes, we are damaging your liver"?). However, there is a book floating around out there in library/cyberspace somewhere that's dedicated to just how McDonald's food is made (how all the fries are all the same size and color, pretty consistently, etc), which doesn't prove McDonald's as preservative-free at all. . .
I haven't actually read that book yet, and I'll get back to you on the name of the book once I've found it (it was recommended to me a few years ago now), but something I did in place of that was go to Google and type in how "McDonald's cheeseburgers are made" (and then you can factor in french fries or what have you). Again, there are a lot of discrepancies, but that doesn't mean it isn't interesting to think about. . .
Finally, here's the link: http://news.yahoo.com/s/yblog_upshot/20101012/bs_yblog_upshot/mcdonalds-happy-meal-resists-decomposition-for-six-months
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Roland Barthes: Sexiest Man Alive?
I'm obviously not looking for any class credit for this post. I just wanted to let you all know that Roland Barthes looks exactly how I pictured him.
Also, I bet he smells like musk and cognac.
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
Five Foods I Intend to Never Outgrow
There are some foods that I think we accept as a society for children to eat. Strange combinations that somehow are okay as long as the person creating and/or consuming them is under the age of 15. Sometimes, certain foods seem to be prone to certain generations. This last bit became pretty clear to me today through today's big story in the Dining section the New York Times that I immediately tested its claim of recognition on my nearly 12 year old daughter.
"Syd?" I called.
"What?" she replied.
"Have you ever heard of spaghetti tacos?" I inquired because I certainly hadn't.
"Yeah." she mumbled.
"From where?" I continued.
"iCarly." she responded.
A program that has nothing to do with food, on a channel we don't have that also has nothing to do with food is shaping mealtime for kids across the country. According to the article, blogs and websites galore offer a multitude of variations for spaghetti tacos. Here is a link to the full article:
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/10/06/dining/06tacos.html?_r=1
In the spirit of this article, I compiled a small list of foods/food combos from my childhood that I just cannot part with:
1. Ketchup on my mac & cheese. Maybe it's because I'm a quarter Canadian, but this combination is a staple for me. Mac & cheese isn't actually ready to be consumed until it is covered in ketchup.
2. Potato chips on a variety of sandwiches. Whether I'm sitting down to a nice PB&J or a deli-type sandwich, it just isn't complete without that extra crunch. (I don't think this deserves an additional category because it just seems to be a variation, but I also put french fries on my burgers as well.)
3. Magic Shell. I'm not sure which of my parents brought this bit of sorcery into my life, but since I was a small child, ice cream (or sherbet) is more exciting with Magic Shell. For those of you not familiar with Magic Shell, it's a chocolate sauce that hardens on your cold ice cream. Magic Shell is also on my list of "Meanest Things Done by an Ex-": #5 She put my Magic Shell in the refrigerator.
4. Dipping Wendy's french fries into Wendy's Frosty's. Once upon a time I used to do that with my chicken nuggets, too, but I've since become allergic to chicken. There really is no point to eating at Wendy's unless you plan to eat your fries and your Frosty together.
5. I love Spaghettio's. Special combinations in my Spaghettio's include, adding crackers, adding cheese, adding hot sauce, adding avocado, or adding all of these things.
"Syd?" I called.
"What?" she replied.
"Have you ever heard of spaghetti tacos?" I inquired because I certainly hadn't.
"Yeah." she mumbled.
"From where?" I continued.
"iCarly." she responded.
A program that has nothing to do with food, on a channel we don't have that also has nothing to do with food is shaping mealtime for kids across the country. According to the article, blogs and websites galore offer a multitude of variations for spaghetti tacos. Here is a link to the full article:
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/10/06/dining/06tacos.html?_r=1
In the spirit of this article, I compiled a small list of foods/food combos from my childhood that I just cannot part with:
1. Ketchup on my mac & cheese. Maybe it's because I'm a quarter Canadian, but this combination is a staple for me. Mac & cheese isn't actually ready to be consumed until it is covered in ketchup.
2. Potato chips on a variety of sandwiches. Whether I'm sitting down to a nice PB&J or a deli-type sandwich, it just isn't complete without that extra crunch. (I don't think this deserves an additional category because it just seems to be a variation, but I also put french fries on my burgers as well.)
3. Magic Shell. I'm not sure which of my parents brought this bit of sorcery into my life, but since I was a small child, ice cream (or sherbet) is more exciting with Magic Shell. For those of you not familiar with Magic Shell, it's a chocolate sauce that hardens on your cold ice cream. Magic Shell is also on my list of "Meanest Things Done by an Ex-": #5 She put my Magic Shell in the refrigerator.
4. Dipping Wendy's french fries into Wendy's Frosty's. Once upon a time I used to do that with my chicken nuggets, too, but I've since become allergic to chicken. There really is no point to eating at Wendy's unless you plan to eat your fries and your Frosty together.
5. I love Spaghettio's. Special combinations in my Spaghettio's include, adding crackers, adding cheese, adding hot sauce, adding avocado, or adding all of these things.
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