COOKED: Eggplant Parmesan Or This Blog's Overarching Theme

Is that homework is a very useful, powerful procrastination tool. One must obviously be wise in summoning the power that is all things food. This time it was the eggplant parmesan gods who shone down on me. It all started, per usual, as I lounged around near the TV, guiltily avoiding my homework. I flipped to a reliable channel (can you guess?) the Food Network. There, I stumbled upon Throwdown! with Bobby Flay, who is lovingly nicknamed in this household as "Mr. Nips". This pet name comes from Bobby's complete inability to wear shirts that don't flaunt his precocious chest and all it has to offer. Which boils down to a lot of nip' action. Either that or he's always turned on by his food... I DON'T KNOW I JUST WATCH THE SHOWS I TRY NOT TO THINK ABOUT IT... TOO HARD. Anyway, this day was a day which had previously been set aside to write a final paper. Which had to be in Spanish. Any idea why B. Flay's down throwing suddenly looked so good? Yeah, procrasti-nation. Additionally, the New Yorkian Italian man he was trying to throw down (and completely failed to) was a master eggplant parmesan maker. Inspir(procrastin)ation went into overdrive. I Needed To Make This Dish. Now. So all thoughts paper-related went out the window into the blustery Saturday in May air as I started to cook. This process included thinly slicing the eggplant lengthwise (removing the skin as well), skipping the flour dredging step and dunking the eggplant boards straight into their egg bath. Then, to the hot oil they went. Luckily for me, there was already homemade tomato sauce in the fridge, so compiling the fried eggplants in the sauce was easy (don't think I forgot the cheeses. They were there. Pounds.) It's a pity that my pictures didn't turn out better. I think it's because I was too excited to stand still. But, with good reason, for what a day it had been! A cooking, day-walking ginger with pectoral pointiness on the tube. A hot, steaming dish of eggplant parmesan in real life. A forgotten paper.

Chow, Lucia

COOKED: Blueberry Honey Parfait Or Would The Naked Chef Be An Accurate Name?

Whoa! It's been a while, but never fear. I'm back... finally! Now I have the whole summer to do (mostly) whatever I'd like. Regardless of what I will be doing in the future, I cooked this dessert (which just happened to replace my dinner). I don't know what inspired me. I think I wanted to prove that if I plopped myself down in the kitchen--a good way to avoid writing important papers--I could cook something sweet and dessert-like, sans the refined white sugar and flour of most desserts. (Like the fool I am, I'm still "eating well", which, for me, is basically not eating processed foods or foods that are wheat/gluten based.) Mission accomplished. WAY easy.

I'm starting to wonder if I should include recipes on this blog, some sort of addition to my blather. I'd suggest taking a vote, but as I enjoy doing what I want, STICKING IT TO THE MAN, I don't think that process will hold any merit. So we'll see what happens. But I will say it is hard for me to write recipes, because most of what I cook isn't from recipes, so I...have to think. Usually recipes aren't needed in my meals (hence the title of the post, I'm recipe-less), as nothing I cook is very fancy, and I rarely bake, which would (logically) need recipes with correct amounts of ingredients, to allow rising or whatever the thing I'm so totally not baking needs to do to... not taste like a burned puddle. YEAH!

Here's my parfait! It's all eggy. I first cooked a quasi-custard--no recipe, just eye-balled ratios/fractions/mathematical portions--beat the egg whites separately, then folded my concoction together. The blueberry sauce included frozen blueberries, honey, orange zest and rosewater (saw it in the cupboard. Eyes turned shiny. Used it.). I toasted oats and sprinkled them on top. Aaaand there's my recipe for the day!

Chow, Lucia

COOKED: Strawberry Salad Or Served With A Side Of Hot, Steamy Erratic

I'm the strange girl (just to really drill it into your head) who brings salad to school now. First it was scrambled eggs. Even that was a little too awkward for me. "Oh no, hi! What, what is this? Just um, scrambled eggs. Those? Ah, those are peas. Does it taste good? Well, I think so. WANNA TRY SOME YUM JUST STICK OUT YOUR TONGUE NO WORRIES I DON'T HAVE HERPES OR ANYTHING JUST TRY THE EGGS THEY'RE GOOD, EVERYTHING IS GOOD, THERE'S NO NEED TO BE SCARED, HEY, HEY, WAIT A SECOND, GUESS WHAT I HAVE FOR DESSERT!**" I say, I do say, as the friendly passerby wishes they could retract their previous question and run in horror. But they don't. They just kind of walk away stiffly, taking with them their furrowed brow and whatever sort of outgoing nature they still have left. Then I switched to fried egg sandwiches. I thought it was quasi-healthy. I mean, I think eggs are really healthy, and bread isn't very healthy, and cheese just tastes damn fine. That worked better. Apparently eating sandwiches is more socially acceptable than muddling about with a gladware full of scrambled eggs. Who knew! But even a carb-loving girl like me needs a break. And because this break just happened to coincide with spring, I figured why not go all out and eat well? Huh? Crazy thought, right? You know what's even stranger? I'm still doing it. And it feels great! I eat crazy salads like this, and hell, I don't miss the cake, the special noodles someone around here likes to cook all the time, the muffin failures. They're all fond memories stored away, and no worries. They'll be back, just in time for winter. For I am a creature that hibernates.

Chow, Lucia

**prunes!!!!