I Did Not INTEND To Eat Ducks

This is a story about a "young" woman, and some ramen, and a surprise.

Anticipating duck-themed bullion for broth, I--I mean, "some unnamed woman"--decided to tuck in and enjoy a new style of instant ramen. My--I mean, "her"--husband's off doing PAX stuff, so an instant meal for one is totally called for and fully allowed.

Sounds harmless enough, right? What are the odds that instant food would be full of actual ducks?

Oh dear. The odds are very good indeed.

And the ducks, so help me, are also very good. Indeed.

Why the anxiety about eating duck? It's not like I'm vegetarian. And given that ducks fly and are regularly obtained from the wild, it's most likely not unthinkable that these delicious ducks actually had better lives than the last factory-farmed poultry I ate this week.

But I hold a semi-firm taboo: "thou shall not eat thy pets, nor thy pets' kin." And as a youth, my family adopted two ducks from a farm store. We named one Theodore and the other Siegfried, after a scene in the movie "Four Rooms." They joined wild flocks, but would occasionally return to our family pond.

And now I'm EATING DUCK for dinner! I'd better honor their memory by eating it while it's still warm. My apologies, everyone.

Here are some glamor shots of the meal, including a curiously labeled pouch full of meat and delicious gravy:












See how good that meat looks? All marinated...

My apologies to ducks everywhere.

Hot Plastic Bags: The REAL Antifood

I had not planned for this to be a point-counterpoint sort of evening, but the facts speak for themselves. Exercise may help tilt one's calorie balance away from the pizza in one's mouth, but there is no Antifood in my immediate vicinity as overpowering as a hot plastic bag.

In a truly bold move (a Truly Bold Move), my spouse decided to try storing lettuce and rashes on the countertop like fruit. His logic stated that they were unrefrigerated on display in the farm stand, and therefore they could be stored unrefrigerated at home. In the summer heat. In plastic bags. In our kitchen. It was a bold experiment, and I respect a little risk-taking, now and then.

But just now, just this very evening, not minutes ago, I approached the produce hoping that his experiment had yielded the desired results--unchanged, room-temperature, farm-fresh salad fixins'.

Goodness no.

In a mere 30-something hours, the radish leaves had disintegrated impressively. The smell rivaled a cat box in organic horror, but was entirely vegetarian. I washed the radishes and put them in the fridge, but I cannot eat them. They will likely need to be replaced.

Oh, the horror.

Exercise: The Antifood

It's Opposite Day somewhere, so I'm going to seize this opportunity to wax semi-poetic in my food blog on the subject of Exercise: The Antifood.

For the past two weeks, my husband and I have gone on modest neighborhood hikes each evening after I get home from work. We live in an area full of horse trails, so these hikes are a practical way to get some enjoyable, regular exercise without having to spend money on a gym membership or personal machines (bikes, not-bikes, etc.).

I have begun to shrink. I have begun to shrink much more steadily than I did when I tried a food-only approach. I dream of going to comic book conventions dressed like Leeloo from "The Fifth Element." Ace bandages, ribs, orange hair, invisible eyebrows.

Mind you, the bodily changes that I have ACTUALLY undergone as a result of a mere two weeks of mild exercise are subtle enough that I'm sure only I can see them. Even my clothes are only vaguely aware of it. But I can see the changes, and I am prematurely smug, because premature smugness suits me so. (Even though I tentatively anticipate gaining the weight back once my husband's classes start up again next month, because he will longer be available in the evenings to join me. I will likely binge on video games, almond butter and "Torchwood" each night to numb my loneliness. But this is entirely enough of that kind of talk! I am here, writing right now, to discuss basic, daily exercise like it's some new thing I just found.)

I have concluded that exercise is antifood.

Similar to a specialized antimatter, in that it mathematically cancels out food. The food that one has already eaten; the food that one is eating right now; the food that one will eat later.

As with all things that refer ever-so-vaguely to numbers, this makes me smile.

Quinoa, Blueberries, Coconut and Milk

I am all about pantry cooking, and I am all about frozen ingredients. Today's "thing I am eating" is nutrient-dense, delicious, cheap, and was assembled out of stuff I had on hand. It has also helped to manage my rampaging sweet-tooth, which is a pretty scary accomplishment for a healthy food to achieve.




Step 1. Make Quinoa

It's more expensive than rice, but is a whole protein all by itself and is available in large containers for cheap-ish at Costco. Plus, it's gluten free, in case you're into that.

Cook it by boiling the way the package advises you to, which is basically the same method as cooking rice.

Step 2. Heat Frozen Blueberries

I lined the bottom of a microwave-safe cereal bowl with frozen blueberries and microwaved them for about a minute, because it's August and I wanted them lukewarm. Keep them frozen or cook them until hot if you'd prefer.

I know lining the bottom of the bowl doesn't look like very many blueberries, but the other ingredients will pick up their flavor. (This is a good way to make a small package of frozen blueberries last longer.)

Step 3. Add Cooked Quinoa

Spoon it over the blueberries. Use as much as you want, it should pick up the blueberry flavor pretty well. Think of an oatmeal-to-fruit ratio.

Step 4. Add Shredded Coconut

I used about a tablespoon of sweetened, shredded coconut, because that's what I have. I'll concede that using an ingredient that has sugar in it is kind of cheating, given that the dish is otherwise such a health-bomb... But your FACE is kind of cheating! Burn.

Step 5. Pour Milk Like It's Cereal

Pretty straightforward.

Step 6. Mix Together And Eat

This step is even more straightforward.

You're welcome.

Twin Peaks Sandwich

Today's lunch has been assembled using leftovers from a recent party:

1. Slices of brie.

2. Hoagie rolls of a decent quality.

I put the brie into the rolls, and in doing so built a sandwich:




But this is not just any sandwich!!! The roll isn't a proper baguette and I didn't add butter, but I am nonetheless eating a television theme meal right now, as I'm typing this.

Behold:



One of my favorite scenes from one of my favorite shows.

Aww yeah.

Jerry Horne returns from Paris, and shares sandwiches with his brother Benjamin.

And I mean, if you can't take milk fat advice from dudes named Ben and Jerry, what's left in life? (Ouch. I just kicked myself for telling that joke.)

Cubicle picnic glamor shot: