COOKED: Banana Muffins Or Just Because They Look Healthy

Doesn't mean that you have to spit them out. No, really! The muff' recipe came from the old Joy of Cooking, which is... you know... old. Back when buttery, moist and delicious muffins were not the norm. So, sigh. I pushed one into the palm of an unsuspecting victim, assuring him that these weren't like those healthy bran muffins (close cousins of cardboard) I had made last week. These were for everyone!, not just chewers of amalgamated cellulitic fibers (me, me and me). I had hoped these would be a treat for everyone, I imagined the smiles that would melt the edge off the hard, long day with every bite. Not the case. The bromidic bite of muffin was quickly spat out by the victim into not the civilized trash, but the sink. It was too hideous of a food to spare a moment to find the trash can. Thinking the victim was merely overreacting, I found another hungry fellow and offered him the rest of the muffin. He spat too! Imagine my sadness. So, I finally tried a bite. Poor, unloved muffin. It really wasn't bad, it was just so not fun. It had nothing going for it except for the sugar sprinkled on top ("Oh, how fun they'll find this!" I thought to myself as my brain directed my zealous hand to sprinkle extra, extra sugar! What a treat! What a treat!) Maybe it's a good thing that the muffin didn't turn out to be as exciting as I'd hoped. After a few more suckers walked by the batch and tried a few bites, it was settled. They weren't blackholes of doom. They were just... not fun. But I got through them, don't fret. Maybe now it makes sense as to why my favorite animal is the goat. Scrap metal, anyone?

Chow, Lucia

COOKED: Coleslaw Or Cue The Wah Pedal, Unnngh!

The few times I used gopher grocery were nice. Order the basics online, pick a time to have the food delivered, wait for food, get rung by the awkward gopher grocery guy with groceries in tow, let said guy in, make enough small talk until we reach apartment door, avoid thinking troublesome thoughts about how this could easily be sleezy porno (c'mon, all the elements are there. Dude in uniform, food props...me...) sign the receipt, bid the G.G guy adieu, snarf food. So one chilly Monday I recieved enough ingredients to, somewhat a la Jamie Oliver, whose show Jamie at Home involves growing and cooking his own meals, make coleslaw. Fun stuff. I took out the "growing my own food" part and only cooked it. Wait. I didn't even cook the coleslaw. That'd be limp and a wholly unpleasant experience. Yum!!Chow, Lucia

COOKED: Applesauce Or The Creepy Girl Is Back, And Why Is She Waving Like That?

Food! Fooood! Dear Diary, I'm back. Can you tell? Vim and vigor in place, dirty dishes in the sink. Fun on the bun. I don't even drink coffee and I've got the jumps. The good food jumps. So, here I am to tell you about my applesauce. No need to explain how I made it (that'd waste the precious time you and I have, I swear), just trust me when I tell you it makes bad apples better. Good, even! Plus, when it's cooking in your little one-roomed abode, it makes the place down right cozy. Cozy enough to forget about that smelly poop that somehow got placed in front of your neighbor's door down the hall. The fetid gift itself isn't really the problem, it just sits there, but smells aren't picky. They go wherever the hell they want! Oh no. I've done it again. I've made a nice entry weird... But don't lie... you missed me, didn't you! Fweet!Chow, Lucia

UPDATE: Hi Or Hey Sexy Stud Muffin

Do I have an excuse for not updating? Well, sort of. My camera hasn't been handy as of late, and who likes to read my drivel without something to look at? There's that. Plus school, as much as I don't like saying this, has been getting me down, which leads dear ol' Lucia to the pantry, sans the motivation to cook anything. There are other reasons. But fear not! Easter is right around the corner, and, you know, birds of feather flock together, so one rebirth's gotta lead to another... PUSH, PUSH, PUUUUSH! Just think of this as my Spring Break. From everything.

Chow, Lucia

COOKED: Roasted Squash Seeds Or Little Things Once Covered In Goo Have Never Been So Loved

By you, reader(s)! I always enjoy the gooey, the sticky, the gross. Not like this is new for you, I hope. If it is, then just take a minute, breath, and drop everything you're doing to... learn that. There will be a quiz at the end of this blog (as a whole, not just the post, goody two-shoes) and you are expected to pass. Pass, damn you! The prize for successfully completing the imminent exam? More things covered in goo! But not seeds! It'll be a surprise, for you and me!
Chow, Lucia

COOKED: Spaghetti Squash Stir-Fry Or Lucia Felt Oddly Healthy

But I mean, I had to, right? I had the ba--guts... to buy the squash, so that meant I had to keep it together long enough to eat all of it. Which isn't really much of a problem, but I've got to add some sort of intrigue to this damn post, so here we go. Fried! Stirred! Eaten in bed! If this post is getting too hot for you, I suggest immediate scampering, tail between the legs optional. I'll just be here, popping a pea between my teeth while thinking thoughts about... about... hmm. My internet just died. I can't think without that. What to do, what to do! My sentence structure will surely collapse, my words will jumble, all will implode upon itself in an unflattering manner. I... without the internet... this wonderful world of wireless is throwing me for a loop. The ability to think straight has vanished, so here, have a picture or two!

Chow, Lucia

PS, mine internet had return. I speek frily!

COOKED: Spaghetti Squash Or Oh, The Things You Can Do With A Tuesday Afternoon

I cooked it. I had the time. I cut it. I waited. I forked the strands out of it. I separated out the bad goo. I used the verb "fork" in an appropriate manner. I came. I saw. I conquered my mountain of spaghetti squash.Chow, Lucia