Posts Tagged ‘sandwiches’

pile o’ crank

Monday, August 8th, 2011

After Thursday tequila (which sounds way less cool than Tuesday tequila, don’tcha think?), I wasn’t really ready for breakfast until 11 or so on Friday.

And when I was ready all I wanted were vegetarian corn dogs.

With lots of mustard.

To be clear, Morningstar Farms has no idea who I am or that I adore the everloving shit out of their products. They also have no idea how pissed I am that the corn dogs seem to be in short supply. Last time I found them I bought three boxes, and I’m now down to my last box.

Fortunately I’m not hung over that often.

After I worked for awhile, I met up with the fam. We had big big plans, but we needed to be fed. Since my brother had done all of his vegan friendly shopping, he ate at home. My mom was the center of the big big plans, and it precluded her eating like a normal person.

Being neither vegan nor about to exercise really hard, my dad and I went to Snarfs.

Snarfs is a Boulder sandwich institution. They have expanded to St. Louis and Chicago, but they started here and have 7 shops in CO. The one my dad and I went to is just down the street from where I used to work in Boulder. At lunch time the line goes out the door and down the sidewalk, and if you don’t know what you want when you get to the counter, it’s the plank for you, mister.

At night it’s much chiller.

We ordered our sandwiches and sat down to wait.

The music was speech impedingly loud.

We were hungry.

That explains the look on my dad’s face.

I ordered my favorite – ham and american cheese with everything. Everything includes pickled jalapenos. While eating, my dad and I concluded that any sandwich that doesn’t include pickled jalapenos should no longer be called a sandwich. (That thing you see him devouring in the background was an ‘italian’, and good, but no ham and american cheese.)

We ate outside so we could hear each other talk. We, of course, solved world peace and all kinds of stuff. It’s amazing what you can accomplish when you can hear.

Then it was on to the big event.

My mom racing like a pro at Boulder Indoor Cycling.

That blur in front is her.

She won two of her four races.

Her genetics are a lot to live up to.

The center of the velodrome is this kid’s obstacle/cross country thingie. I wanted so badly to ride on it. I would yell ‘weeeeeeeee’ the whole time.

I’m related to winners.

In other news, as I age my smile becomes more and more ridiculous.

I’m never smiling in pictures again.

Also? I’m wearing jeans that are too big for me with a big hefty belt under my tank top. That weird lump is not my belly.

When we got back to my mom’s house, my secret bananas were ready!

Have a Snarfy day.

 

you can see our quality!

Wednesday, December 1st, 2010

There was something different about my oatmeal yesterday.

If you can tell what it is, you spend too much time looking at pictures of oatmeal.

Why yes, I did add two tablespoons of Bob’s Red Mill 7 Grain Hot Cereal. I’ve actually had the stuff in my freezer for months. I tried it on it’s own and it’s sort of disgusting (sorry Bob), but it adds a level of complexity to plain old rolled oats. (My stone ground stuff was too slow for my belly this am.)

Complex oatmeal. Again, if that’s not new to you, you spend too much time thinking about oatmeal.

Properly fortified, I bundled up in a manner you might expect from someone living at a much higher latitude.

Like, Juno.

What? It was cold.

We met a cardboard pig who was particularly enthusiastic about renting out this house. The girls were equally enthusiastic about trying to kill it with their patented barking-from-afar method.

Everyone’s favorite time is bathtime. And by everyone, I mean no one. I had to bribe them with cookies just to get close enough to take these pictures because they were both so pissed at me.

Side note: I have to wash Cloey first, because if I put Maida in the sink Cloey knows what’s coming and hides under the bed. If I put Cloey in the sink Maida stands around watching until it’s her turn. She’s stupid. It’s endearing.

Part of the whole South Beach thing is eschewing processed grains. I like processed grains, but I’m taking baby steps. Instead of my beloved sourdough I bought this whole wheat bread. I have no idea what Eco-Grain means. I’m guessing it means that the grains grow out of the ground. Probably. What I do know is that it was on sale and also that even baby steps are hard and stupid and I miss my white bread.

Whole wheat bread, cranberry chutney, turkey, Tillamook cheddar + broiler =

Melty deliciousness. As far as I’m concerned all cheese should be melted cheese. Except when you’re bringing it home from the grocery store. Because that could get messy.

Crockett is sick, sadly. He’s all *cough cough* *wheeze wheeze*. My sick boy makes me sad, so I went over to make him some creamy tomato soup and grilled cheese.

Simple creamy tomato soup

Serves 2 generously

1/3 cup finely chopped white or yellow onion
1 Tbs butter
1 29 oz can diced tomatoes in juice
1 Tbs (or more) dried basil *
1 Tbs sugar (optional)
1/2 cup red wine (optional)
1/2 cup – 1 cup water or stock
Half and half or heavy cream
Salt
Pepper

It’s that easy. Saut√© the onion in the butter until it’s soft but before it’s started to brown. Add the tomatoes and their juice, the basil and 1/2 tsp or more of salt, the sugar, and the wine and let it bubble away for 10 or fifteen minutes. Add the stock or water.
Here’s where I went wrong. I blended (using my handy dandy hand blender) for awhile, but not long enough. It had pieces of chunky onion and I hate that. Crockett seemed to like it though.
After you’ve blended, add your half and half. I specifically did not include a measurement because this is a personal preference. We probably had a quarter cup in the pot and I poured an additional tablespoon over Crockett’s bowl – you could go up to a cup without being ridiculous. Warm through and serve.
*About the basil – I dried my basil myself a month ago. If yours is older, feel free to use more. Basil is delicious. If you have fresh, I wouldn’t use it on this soup – dried works just fine.

A recipe for this would just embarrass both of us. Basically, take some thinly sliced white bread (WHAT, I had whole wheat with lunch), and butter the outside. Stick as much brie as you think you can handle in the middle.  Put in a pan until brown.

Stick in your soup.

Feel better, even if you weren’t feeling ill in the first place.