Food Without Morals

May 25, 2010

Dude, your ED is boring

Filed under: everyone has problems,Food is hard! — by Katie @ 3:29 am

Being in recovery from my eating disorder has made me a very boring person, unfortunately.

Suddenly, I am terrified to cook. I am scared to cook because everything I like to cook, or bake, or, um, flambé? now seems like it contains a million and one CALORIES, and oh my God, of course eating that will kill me. I like plain things where I can gauge the calories, or prepackaged things where they are written out there for me.

Calorie counting, needless to say, is something I’m working on. My nutritionist gave me a meal plan to follow to help regulate my eating habits (which is something I need, considering starving all day and then binging at night is not really “healthy eating”), and I had to stop adding up the calories because it was DRIVING. ME. INSANE. It turns out my (twisted, eating disordered) opinions about what I need to maintain my weight are different from my (healthy, university-trained) nutritionist’s. BIG SURPRISE.

Right now I have been doing okay, not really using eating disorder behaviors, except, well, I can’t do parties. Parties are total triggers for me at the moment, and so I finally decided to avoid them.

This is how boring my life is. I have to say no to parties. I eat on a schedule. I spend three hours three nights a week in intensive outpatient therapy group, one hour once a week at my nutritionist, and one hour a week at my therapist’s. I am devoting a huge chunk of my time (and money; more on that later) to my recovery.

Needless to say, this is preferable than spending that same time and money on my eating disorder.

April 5, 2010

Jan Hagel

Filed under: Dessert,Food — by Katie @ 3:44 pm

And now back to our regularly scheduled programming.

A couple of weeks ago, I was on spring break (SPRING BREAK WOOOOO). I went to my parents’ house for a few days, my house in Quincy flooded, then it dried up, then I went back home, then I went to visit my aunt up in New Hampshire, and that is where this was baked. I realized a few months ago that you can take the girl out of New England, but you will drag the New England out of this girl’s cold, frostbitten, wet fingers (I am trying to be realistic here).

But seriously, the weather that later half of the week was beautiful. So I locked myself indoors (the sun! it burns my pale, pasty skin!) and made Jan Hagel.

This recipe comes from some woman who graduated Guilford College in 1974. I know this, because I got the recipe out of a cookbook my aunt had, titled “‘Of Loving Kindness and Good Will: A Cookbook By and For Residents of Mary M. Hobbs Hall, Guilford College”. For the purpose of explanation, my mom, aunt, two of my grandmothers, and my brother all went to Guilford College. My grandma graduated in Marrying Your Roommate’s Brother, I think. I don’t really know what majors they had in the 40s, clearly.

Anyways, Jan Hagel is something that seems like it should not work, and while you are putting it together you hope that nobody comes home before it is out of the oven just in case it suck and you have to throw it out. And then, it looks okay! And the next morning, it was gone.

First, put on an apron, so that when Bobby comes by later to pick you up for the Sock Hop you don’t have flour all down your front. Then, dump one and a quarter cups of flour into a bowl.

Add half a cup of sugar to your flour.

Add half a teaspoon of cinnamon. And I added mace, because what the crap IS that? and also some nutmeg, because, well, look:

Nutmeg. The noblest and most hallucinogenic of all the spices.

Cut up half a cup (one stick of America Butter) of COLD butter into cubes, and add it to the bowl. You don’t necessarily have to cut it up into cubes, but it makes the next step easier.

Cut the butter into the flour until it looks like floury peas. I used a pastry cutter, but I have used my fingers, and I have heard that you can use two knives, but I don’t even know what that means, to be honest.

Separate an egg, save the white, and add the yolk to the bowl. Ignore the fact that this egg has a bloody spot. Don’t even think the word “fertilization,” and DEFINITELY don’t think “zygote.” And TOTALLY DO NOT call that phone number in the background. It’s probably my grandma’s doctor.

Cut the yolk into the flour. It won’t look wet, it’ll still look DRY. Resist the urge to add some liquid.

Press the mixture into a greased 9×13 inch pan. AAAAHHHH, THE SUN, MY ANGLO-SAXON ORIGINS CAN’T TAKE IT

Good, it went behind a cloud. Lightly beat the reserved egg white (just until the proteins are somewhat broken up and it’s a little foamy); brush it on the pastry. Use all of the white, the pastry should be totally covered with white.

Sprinkle with a quarter cup of sugar. If desired, also sprinkle on 1/4 cup of sliced unblanched almonds. I didn’t have any, so I went without. Pop into a 350 degree oven for 18-20 minutes.

Seriously, folks, GONE the next morning. I normally bring back about half of the baked goods I make home with me when I leave my aunt’s house, and there were three left in the tray. I stole one away with me when I left the house.

Jan Hagel
Kathy Buckland Heer, Guilford College class of ’74
1 1/4 cups flour
3/4 cups sugar, divided
1/2 tsp. cinnamon
1/2 c. cold sweet butter or margarine
1 egg, separated
1/2 c sliced unblanched almonds (optional)

In bowl combine flour, 1/2 cup sugar, and cinnamon. Cut butter into small pieces. Work mixture with fingertips or pastry cutter until small crumbs form.
Add egg yolk and work in until well blended; press dough evenly into well-greased 13x9x2 inch baking pan.
Brush with slightly beaten egg white; sprinkle with remaining 1/4 cup sugar and the almonds, pressing them slightly into the dough.
Bake in preheated 350 oven for 18-20 minutes or until lightly browned. Cool and cut into bars.

April 2, 2010

Recovery Chronicles

Filed under: everyone has problems,Food is hard! — by Katie @ 5:26 pm

I’m sorry about the previous post. I understand that eating disorders are not really a fun thing to read about. Let me assure you that they are not really fun to talk about, either.

They are, however, necessary to mention. How many times a day are we bombarded with imagery that we are too this, not enough that; how many times today have you heard someone criticizing their body? How many times have you seen someone refuse food because, “Really, I shouldn’t.”

I teach second graders once a week. We were discussing digestion, and one of the girls said, “And if you don’t eat a lot, you get thin.” She meant this as a positive thing.

This is a second grader, y’all. And I don’t say that as in that she is too young to be worried about her weight- I say that as in we are all too  young to worry about our weight. When did I start hating myself? When did I decide I was fat? And how much time have I spent since then focusing my entire being on that hatred?

If you could channel the self-hatred of all the men and women who look in the mirror and hate what they see, we would have the perfect alternative energy source. It would never run out.

I could power my electricity for months on the sheer energy I spend praying that my thighs will get smaller.

I am not going to go into details about what recovery entails. Needless to say, it involves many gross bodily functions that I have screwed up with years of misuse. It involves constant anxiety attacks, because there is no way I need to eat that much, because my body runs perfectly fine on 400 calories.

Recovery from an eating disorder is all about relearning. It is hard to relearn how to eat normally when all the normal people seem to regard their food as some kind of enemy, as more than just food. I would just like some positive examples that I can look to.

March 30, 2010

Trying to Eat with an Eating Disorder

Filed under: everyone has problems,Food is hard! — by Katie @ 10:01 am

This is going to get a little intimate, but it’s something I need to get out there.

I’m bulimic.

Phew, it’s out there. I’ve been bulimic “officially” for about a year now, although I’ve had an eating disorder off and on for about seven years; my last relapse was a year ago, and it was pretty bad. I lost twenty pounds, I cut my calories, I threw up over and over again, I abused laxatives. I made my body the enemy, and I was determined to win.

My goal was to hurt myself, and it was easy to achieve. I had chest pains, stomach cramps, acid reflux, diarrhea. I had them during the day, but they woke me up at night, too. I became potassium deficient, which gave me leg cramps so bad that they pulled my muscles. When I binged, I ate so much that I could physically not fit any more food in my body. I purged enough that I started to lose my gag reflex, and consequently my ability to throw up. If I couldn’t throw up, I would have panic attacks. I started to schedule my binge/purge sessions so that my gag reflex would have time to recover. I would binge and purge twice a day, three to four times a week. I took laxatives at least four times a week.

And then, last Thursday, I stopped.

I don’t know if it’s for good, but I stopped.

I was tired. I was sick, and I was exhausted. I have spent the last year thinking about how wasteful I am, how much money I have spent on food, money that I can’t afford to waste. I have spent the last year wondering why I spend so much of my time, energy, money, and resources on killing myself.

And then I woke up on Thursday, and I thought, “I could stop.”

And I stopped.

Recovery is going to be a lot harder than having an eating disorder ever is. An eating disorder is easy. Don’t listen to all that talk about willpower, because that’s bullshit. There is nothing easier than giving in to that voice that says, “Who told you that you deserve adequate nutrition, you stupid, fat fuck?”

And you know what? I did. I finally said that seven years of self-loathing is enough to last me a lifetime. I said that it is stupid to spend the rest of my life starving myself to death. I said that I can eat.

March 24, 2010

An apology + An unapologetic recipe

Filed under: Dessert,everyone has problems,Food — by Katie @ 11:34 am

Now THAT’S what I call an absence! Don’t let it be said that I half-ass things around here!

But seriously, sorry about that. See, I had good excuses, and when I ran out of good excuses, I just had shame. I won’t let it happen again, promise.

Now, let me tell you about this mystery dessert. See, I went home for a few days last week for spring break (SPRING BREAK, WOOOO), only to have it rain, which meant that I wore my pyjamas the entire time I was home (to be honest, I rarely change out of my pyjamas when I am home, so the rain was to my advantage).

This led to me surfing through my mother’s recipe box, which is unlike most Mothers’ Recipe Boxes in that my MRB consists mostly of recipes cut out from the paper, or handed down from some relative who cooked (some DISTANT relative, knowing my close ones as I do), or, very rarely, written on an actual recipe card.

This was written down as “Lazy Baklava  – Albanian Gjalpanik”. Since I have no ethnicity, I was so stoked to get to pretend to be Albanian, until I searched the internets, and learned this dessert does not exist.

I also like things that don’t exist. LET’S MAKE IT

Start with one pound of walnuts almonds. The recipe said to use walnuts, but I don’t like walnuts as much as I like almonds.

Grind those nuts! Grind them finer than I did! You want them chunky, far from nut paste or nut flour, but fairly broken down. You should grind them finer than I did; I had to stop early because I was afraid of waking my brother. It was eleven in the morning and he hadn’t gone to bed until four.

Add your nuts to a bowl, along with four cups of flour and one tablespoon of baking powder. This dough is so short that the baking powder does not make as terrifyingly huge of a difference as it might seem it would. Also, use a bigger bowl than I did. Because holy Flour Mountain.

Now, melt one pound of butter. Don’t even give me that look. Also, check out that tiny yellow flowerpot! When my mom is using her multiple pill boxes, we use that instead to weigh down our “DISHES ARE CLEAN” paper chunk.

Add the butter to the dry goods. It might be kind of hard to stir at first, but it comes together pretty easily. Note that I switched to a larger bowl, for ease in stirring.

Add the mixture to a 13x9x2 inch baking dish. This is slightly smaller than that (maybe one inch smaller, not that much), but it all fit. Flatten out the top with a spatula or a spoon. Try not to notice that there is butter pooling on top.

Bake at 350° Fahrenheit for about forty minutes. It is done when it is firm and golden brown on top.

Now, this is important. Make sure that you let this cool completely. Then cut it into squares, or triangles, or half, whatever you’d like. It is important to cut it now, because we are about to add some syrup.

Bring half a cup of honey, one and a half cups of water, and two and a quarter cups of sugar to a boil. Add in the shaved zest of half of a lemon, and let boil for twenty minutes.

While the syrup is boiling lava hot, and the gjalpanik is cooled completely, pour the syrup all over the top. You may not end up using all the syrup, I had about half a cup left at the end. What is important is to cover the entire top of the gjalpanik with the syrup while you pour, because the edges can get dry otherwise.

Let this sit for several hours. You need to allow all the syrup to soak into the gjalpanik.

This was amazing. I am not going to lie to you- it is not a baked good that can be eaten with one’s hands (however, it is awesome in a bowl with a spoon, in front of Gossip Girl, or whatever classy television show you watch). Another truth: the syrup will pool on the bottom when you remove slices. If you think this is a bad thing, then we can’t be friends.

Speaking as someone who has made baklava from scratch, only to feel murderous after three hours had gone by, I am a fan.

Lazy Baklava

For Baklava:
1 pound walnuts (almonds also work)
1 pound butter
4 cups flour
1 tablespoon baking powder

For Syrup:
1 1/2 cups water
2 1/4 cups sugar
1/2 cup honey
zest of one lemon

Grind the nuts well. Add to a bowl with the flour and the baking powder. Melt the pound of butter and add it to the dry goods; mix to combine. Pour into an ungreased 9x13x2 inch baking dish, and bake at 350 for about forty minutes, or until the top is golden brown. Allow to cool completely before adding syrup. Cut into whatever shape you like.

In a medium saucepan, add all the syrup ingredients and bring to a boil. Boil for twenty minutes. Fish out the spent lemon peel and pour the boiling syrup all over the baklava, making sure to coat every surface with it (you may not use all the syrup). Let sit out for several hours, overnight is even better.

For Baklava:
One pound walnuts (almonds also work)
One pound butter
Four cups flour
One tablespoon baking powder

For Syrup:

March 5, 2010

Spice Cake

Filed under: Uncategorized — by Katie @ 4:39 pm

A couple of weeks ago I went home for my mom’s birthday. Well, okay. I went home the weekend before her birthday because she asked me to go to a flower show with her, but I maneuvered out of that one by not feeeeeeling like it on that day.

So I made this cake instead! It was a win-win, because I got to get a full twelve hours of sleep, which is the exact amount I need to not do murders on anyone near me. I think in the time it took me to get out of bed, my mom woke up, fed the cats, went to the gym, ran errands, picked up some extra groceries, solved global warming, and performed liposuction on the fattest of our two cats.

My mom, when I asked her what cake she wanted for her unbirthday, said she wanted a spice cake, which is the ugliest cake ever. You cannot make it attractive. But my mom does things like mail me cans of soup that I like, even though I am an adult and can buy my own soup, and so I owed it to her.

This recipe is from the Bentley Farm Cookbook by Virginia Williams Bentley. She wrote the gripping self-help book LET HERBS DO IT. Haven’t heard of it? Yeah, me neither. But she seems like a nice lady. Note at the bottom how pissed she is that people use box mixes. Guilty as charged, ma’am!

Steal your dad’s raisins from the fridge, measure out a cup. The next day, when he asks if we’re out of raisins, yell, “Eat something other than oatmeal for a change, old man!” But only if you are in the murdering, less-than-12-hours-of-sleep mode. My dad. A man of habit.

Dump yo raisins in a big saucepan (if it’s big enough, you get to make the cake in there, which is dumb because this is still a three bowl recipe) with one cup of water. Bring it to a boil.

When it comes to a boil, yank it off the burner and move it aside to cool. Do you like our stove? And our IKEA salt and pepper grinders? In this family, we GRIND our salt! I don’t know why, either. It’s awesome for popcorn, though. And heart disease.

While your raisin water is cooling, grab a bowl and add your flour, baking soda, salt, and spices. You could add nuts, too, but the only nuts we had were peanuts, and that seemed weird.

BOTH of those pill containers are my mother’s. We use them to weigh down the “dishes are clean” paper on the counter above the dishwasher.

Mmmmm. Flavored… flour.

In another bowl (dish three, what the crap, I have to wash out so many bowls), whisk one chicken egg.

Whisk in the sugar to combine…

…and dump it into your pot.

Oh, and here is where I remembered that the first step was to add the “salad oil” with the raisins and water when I brought that to a boil. I added it here, because to get the oil, I would have to bend down to reach the corner cabinet.

And as a massage therapist once told me, “Wow, you have serious issues for someone your age.”

BACK issues, mind.

Now, dump in your flour! I liked this shirt, and would have stolen it from my mother, but it was her birthday day, after all.

Also, it was dirty, and I didn’t feel like doing laundry.

Bake your cake in a 13×9 inch pan at 375 degrees F. Mrs. Bentley says to use a 12×9 inch pan, but I don’t have one of those. What I have is this Pyrex that I nabbed off my poor ole grandma when we were moving her to the new assisted living place. That’s also how we got our juicer, and our old microwave! And my electric kettle, which had been boiled empty so many times it was black inside.

I made a boiled icing for this cake, but it didn’t turn out so well- mostly because the only milk we have in our house is skim milk, which just didn’t want to combine with the butter and sugar. It came together okay, but it looked kind of gross so I didn’t take any pictures.

My mom was pleased. So pleased, in fact, that she told my dad, “Don’t bother to get me a cake for my birthday. Let’s just go out to Char Koon that night before we go to see Ned Lamont speak.

I saw the back of Ned Lamont’s head once at a wedding.

My boss at the time yelled out, “We love you, Lamont!”

And then I got to drive a GOLF CART!

Well, you know. I’ve learned to prioritize my excitements.

March 3, 2010

Other things I like to do

Filed under: Procrastinating — by Katie @ 4:29 pm

Oh my goodness, hella time has passed since I last posted here. I have been working on a post, but I got distracted by:

  • Revolutionary Road, which I am slowly working my way through. I saw the movie this summer, and boy, but it was depressing. I hate hate hate seeing movies before I read the book, but every time I tried to start this book I was hit with a memory of how depressed the movie made me, so I put it back down again. Now I’m more than halfway through, so I am emotionally invested and must finish it! However, I also had about eighteen of my Old Lady Mags (Good Housekeeping, Family Circle, Better Homes and Gardens, mmmmmm, magazines) to read, so that got in the way, too.
  • My schoolwork! Did you know I am a student? I go to UMass Boston, which is nowhere near UMass Amherst, which is the school you’ve heard of. We don’t have dormitories because they are for sissies, so I spend about two hours each day commuting. Sometimes there are crazy people, and sometimes I am the crazy person. One time I got molested and thought I would be murdered! That is another story for another time.
  • The Vagina Monologues! It sounds ridiculous, but whatever, hating is for squares. I had tons of fun doing this last year, and so I’m doing it this year. I’m doing the monologue The Flood, and, um, I’ve memorized two paragraphs. I should get on that.
  • Actually, that’s it.

As you can see, I clearly have a very busy schedule, so if you will excuse me, I’ll get back to reading Jezebel and eating pretzels. I mean, DEFINITELY DOING MY HOMEWORK and TOTALLY MEMORIZING MY MONOLOGUE.

February 21, 2010

Brownie Bites

Filed under: Brownies,Food — by Katie @ 3:53 pm

Since I have been VERY GOOD, and posted two, count ‘em, TWO savory recipes in a row, I deserve this one.

IT’S MUFFIN TIME AGAIN.

Okay, some people may bring up that these are brownies, and those people would be right (also: jerks). But I thought these would be adorable if only I baked them in a miniature muffin tin, and then I could show them off to all my friends, and they would realize how unappreciated I’ve been all along, and the popular kids would finally ask me to play foursquare with them at recess.

Then I laughed and laughed. That scenario is ridiculous: I don’t have any friends!

Start with one cup of chocolate chips- semisweet would be best, but I had milk on hand, so I used them. I love this measuring cup; I was at my Aunt’s when I made these, and she has all of the awesome bakeware that my Mom took to the dropoff/pickup at the dump years ago. Also, does it bother anyone that I cook in four different kitchens? Because it kind of bothers me.

Add half a stick of butter (that’s four tablespoons, and two ounces, don’tchya know?) to the chocolate. In a separate bowl. Don’t try to fit the butter in the measuring cup, it will only end in tears. YOUR TEARS

Melt yo chocolate and butter in the microwave (or on a double boiler if you’re industrious/have a dishwashing fetish) until it is smooth.

Add half a cup of sugar to the chocobutter mix. I used the same measuring cup (I know, it’s probably highly inaccurate, whatevs) because I was feeling kitschy. I would have made an excellent Stereotypical Fifties Mom, except my nose started to run and I wiped it all over my sleeve. Bet you wanted to know that!

DO NOT PANIC. You will be all, “What the eff is this crap??” but keep your pants on. Just keep stirring, getting all the sugar as mixed up as you possibly can. It’ll be thick, it’ll be hard, it’ll be double entendre, but it’ll come together all right in the end.

Add one egg. From a chicken. From the box or the chicken butt, I don’t care. PS: Lovin’ the IKEA counters, Auntie!

Now isn’t that nice? I told you it would all work out. But don’t trust me, because I’m totally going to screw you when we get to the flour! SUCKS

Add some hoity-toity vanilla extract. A teaspoon of it. ALSO GOOD: skipping the extract and adding a teaspoon of cinnamon. Oh my GOD, or BOTH. I have the best ideas (also the worst).

Oh, there was a teaspoon of baking soda in there, too. You know, FYI.

Look, you only have to add one cup of flour. And it’s going to be difficult, moreso than adding the sugar was. But it’s only one cup, you can do it! If you’re using a mixer or a spoon (read: don’t have an irrational love of whisks), this will be a billion times easier.

This is the final result. Not so much “batter” as “dough.” Oh man, I bet these would make bangin’ cookies with some more flour in them. But enough of my crackpottery! We got brownies to make!

Oil your pan really well if you’re making brownies this way. They poof up, and if the pan is not really, really, extremely well oiled, then when you try to remove them the brownie tops will come off (scandalous!) while the bottoms stay behind.

Alternatively, you can bake these in an 8×8 pan; it takes about twenty minutes.

When these came out, I was so optimistic. I even swirled on some melted chocolate and put an M&M in the center, because I didn’t know…

…that these would be approximately a bitch and a half to two bitches to remove. Lesson learned: be more liberal with the fat on the pans. Whatever, though, because the broken ones were still good. So good that I accidentally ate too many bottoms and some tops were left alone. Short, stout, requiring someone to lean on- I could empathize (unfortunately).

The pretty ones I drizzled with white chocolate and plated up. But I didn’t eat them! No, they had to wait so that they could be auctioned off at a church fundraiser later on. I don’t know how much they sold for because I had gotten conned into cutting the cake. Church fundraisers, man. You volunteer to help set up, and next thing you know you’re cutting cake for people who don’t want end pieces, or pieces with too much frosting, or chocolate.

Brownies
pretty sure this is a Good Housekeeping recipe
1 cup flour
1 cup chocolate chips
1/4 cup butter
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 cup sugar
1 egg
1 teaspoon vanilla

Preheat oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit. Melt together the chocolate chips and the butter. Stir until smooth; add the sugar. When combined, add in an egg, stir until combined. Add the vanilla and the baking soda, then add the flour. Spread in an 8×8 inch greased pan. Bake ~20 minutes, or until a toothpick comes out clean.

Alternatively, these can be baked in minimuffin tins, just decrease the time to about 10-15 minutes.

February 18, 2010

Roasted Carrots: Or, a Recipe Cop-Out

Filed under: Vegetables — by Katie @ 3:27 pm

I love to go to church. Wait, come back! I am not proselytizing, promise! In fact, if I must admit it, what I like most about church are not the sermons (sorry, Reverends I Have Known and Loved) but the community factor. I like to go to church events, I like listening to the Joys and Concerns, the ritual of handing my money in to the altar plate, of pretending to like coffee at social hour.

And so, when I received an email last week on the church’s listserv letting me know that a member of the congregation was having breast cancer surgery, and would people please sign up to bring her meals? I said, “Um, yes!” Meal Delivery is something my old church never did, and it is a practice that I wish every religious institution and/or social group participated in. Essentially, my church mysteriously finds out that a member of the congregation is ill/recovering, and arranges for meals to be delivered to them. This is awesome if you are like most people and want to not leave the house to grocery shop during periods of recovery.

I made baked chicken meatballs, with roasted red pepper couscous and roasted carrots on the side. Unfortunately, I am an idiot, and only have pictures of the carrots. This is dumb, because roasting carrots is as easy as:


Cutting up some carrots.


Putting them on a pan, adding enough salt, pepper, and olive oil to coat, and then sticking them in a 400° oven for 20-30 minutes, stirring occasionally.


Trying hard not to eat all of them while you package them up.

Oh, and by the way, these are fool proof. I have roasted carrots in a 300° oven alongside a pork loin, I have gone the non-roasting method and pan-cooked them in a skillet (it takes about 20 minutes if you go that route), I have fancied it up and added brown sugar and maple syrup on top during the last ten minutes of cooking.

I would feel silly even posting this if they weren’t so damn good. Don’t think of it as me copping out on posting a “recipe.” Think of it as me spreading the word of truth! Justice! And the beta-carotene way!


Also, fact: Vitamin A is one of the four fat-soluble vitamins, and so eating carrots roasted with olive oil will totally give you heat vision. Just like Timmy Turner.

February 15, 2010

Valentine’s Day Wrap-Up

Filed under: Dinner,everyone has problems,Food,I am going to die alone,Pasta — by Katie @ 9:24 am

So how was your V-day? Did a married woman proposition you? Did you go to a performance of The Vagina Monologues? Did you have sloppy makeouts with that dude next to you at the bar? Do tell!

Me? I made pasta and got drunk with a friend. And when I say “with a friend,” what I mean is that I got drunk and apologized for three hours straight (I am an apologetic drunk; we are an annoying breed) to said friend.

But, pasta! No one wants to hear my drunk stories. Oh, except this one! This one time I got drunk and tripped over three chairs entering a room, and then stood up and told everyone, “I’m okay! This happens all the time!” I don’t remember this, but I was told it happened so it’s probably true.

NOW PASTA. This is a bastardization of this baked tomato sauce except I made it on the stovetop and not in the oven, because the oven had no knob telling you the temperature and when I was toasting breadcrumbs in it I set off the fire alarm.

First, chop up some garlic and cook it lightly in a pan, just until it’s fragrant. Or, be like me and forget the head of garlic you just bought, and end up with a tasty, but not garlicky, sauce. It’ll still be good without garlic, people will just want to make out with you more.


THEN chop up a bunch of grape tomatoes and add them to the pot. I forgot to start off with that whole “garlic sauteéing” business, which is why you don’t see that here. I used a pint of grape tomatoes for two people; I would go with more tomatoes next time.


While you’re doing that, toast some bread crumbs! This is about half a cup of bread crumbs, from a roll that I tore into small pieces and toasted at some temperature (no, really, the oven had no temp gauge) until they were brown. Then I crumbled them into bread crumbs.


Also, set a pot o’ water a-boiling.


Cook your tomatoes over medium-high heat until they start to release juice, like this. Squish them to make them release some more juice. Really abuse these things, they’ll be providing sauciness later.


And add the pasta! Reserve some pasta water to add in here in case things get too dry; I didn’t, and the pasta was a little dry as a result. You want to stir until everything is incorporated. I think this would be tasty with smaller pasta, like farfalle or fusilli (ME + FUSILLI = TRU LUV), but I had angel hair so I used it.


Add in your bread crumbs, stir to combine.


Plate up and serve! Then, because you just made dinner and have proven you are a sane, functioning adult, get your booze on.


Man, chihuahuas really can’t handle their wine.

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