Hard-Hitting Journalism: When Cats Steal My Food

That's right! It is tiiiiiiiime to set the record straight.

No more puff pieces about puff pastry, no more ice-cweamy-weamy wishy-washy descriptions of what I will eat. No! Today, I must needs address a more pressing, serious issue.

WHEN CATS STEAL MY FOOD

Now, if you're reading this, chances are that you already know both of my cats' first names (hi Mom!), but for the sake of quality journalism, I'm going to lay it out for you. Their names are Leonard and Gregor.


Now Greg, he's a manx, which means that while he and Leonard have the same mother, Greg's biological father was a rabbit. But when he's stealing food, he's the much more stereotypical cat. (Perhaps to compensate?) He will lick the butter off of bread, he will lick the ice cream off of cobbler, he will even pull the old classic of sticking his little nose in your milk glass and sticking his little tongue in the milk, like he grew up watching cartoons of what cats are "supposed" to act like.

Lenny, on the other hand, despite being the more traditional-looking cat, has blown the "stealing my food" stereotypes out of the water. Ka-Bam!

Leonard once stole my broccoli, and wolfed it down before I could retrieve it. He loves carbohydrates so much that he will actually chase popcorn if you throw it, and will yum it down.

And on more than one occasion, I've seen him take a bite out of the side of an unbuttered, crusty baguette, like a rat would.

In contrast, Gregory will not EVEN put any of these foods in his mouth.

And there you have it.

Cats: Just like people, or just like cats? Only time will tell.

This Doesn't Suck! HealthyChoice Greek Frozen Yogurt

I am very pleasantly surprised to report that the HealthyChoice Greek Frozen Yogurt (boasting 100 calories per serving) actually doesn't suck at all. At least, not that I can tell, right now. It is the best pseudo-ice-cream that I've had in a while. (Although Trader Joe's coconut milk ice creams also rule.)

I had guessed, after looking at the label, that it had a 50/50 chance of tasting like lip gloss. After all, the larger the corporation behind the brand, the more suspicious I feel, especially about foods that are directly targeting those among us who struggle to juggle being both vain AND sweet toothed.

Still, if I'm going to be honest, I have to admit that I'm still willing to eat a desert that tastes like lip gloss. So I bought a box, because I was curious.

Now, this opinion COULD be the result of an indiscriminate culinary palate, but I actually really like this stuff. I will buy more.

It's kind of like cheesecake, kind of like whipped gelatin... It has a weird, foamy quality that--if I'm being charitable--makes me want to blame molecular gastronomy. The flavor is similar to greek yogurt, but it lacks the sour bite. The temperature resembles ice cream, but what I'm eating now doesn't feel as cold in my mouth. It definitely still feels like junk food (it's silky in an unnatural way), but it really suits me right now. I will definitely buy more.

Paul's Boutique and Potatoes, With My Sister

This is literally footage of a watched pot that isn't boiling yet. The entertainment value is close to nil, but the filming experience was AWESOME! Two Meagher sisters reveling in some Beastie Boys, cooking a big dinner.

But still. For the sheer narcissism required to put this video on the internet, and then dedicate a blog post to it... I'm sorry.

 

Matt's Quinoa Salad

Way better than what I make:

He seasoned the quinoa with olive oil, fresh-cracked pepper, and garlic while it was cooking. Topped it with fresh, crisp bacon. Tossed it with avocado, cilantro, tomato, cucumber, celery, and scallions.

The culinary talent is not the ONLY reason why I married him, but it is certainly a very compelling facet of the attraction. Aww, yeah.

Low-Carb Grilled Cheese Sandwich

Okay, okay, okay. This is so asinine of me that I'm really proud of myself. It got an expletive AND an eye-roll out of my husband, who is busy preparing garlic pepper quinoa salad.

For my "blood sugar got low" after-work snack right now, I present to you, my low-carb grilled cheese sandwich. It is a dish of cheese that I microwaved.

Gorgonzola and "Apple Pears," on a Hoagie

This sandwich was a good idea, even if the phone photo I took is a bit unromantic.

Being Adorably Lazy and Rude at The Matador

So, last night the spouse and I opted for Happy Hour Dinner because we were both too tired to cook. I work the evening shift, so Happy Hour Dinner is our primary alternative to ordering pizza.

In the Eastside Seattle area, one of the greatest happy hour menus in the history of the (local) universe is available at The Matador in Redmond.

For the uninitiated, this restaurant/tequila bar is gorgeous. The brick building is decorated with obviously expensive metalwork and oodles of Día de los Muertos-style skeletons.

The only complaint I can muster about The Matador's Happy Hour is that they do not serve horchata. What kind of restaurant will serve tacos without serving horchata? It's otherwise a grand choice for upscale Tex-Mex in the Eastside, but I have no idea what's up with that. But otherwise, the place is essentially flawless.

So last night, over a glorious $5 mountain of greasy, awesome, complex chorizo nachos, my weary spouse and I shot the breeze. We debated mini-skirts.

My husband took the position that scant clothing in cold weather is too impractical to be sexy, and "looks stupid." Being dressed warmly, I was able to do the mental gymnastics needed to take this as a compliment.

Still, I defended our people-watching subjects. I countered that the "How to Be Attractive to Men" articles in lady-mags, and their devoted readers, do apply social pressure.

But I had to agree that this pressure doesn't reflect the actual male aesthetic sensibilities that I am most familiar with. The bottom line seems to be more about selling fashionable clothing than boosting sexual attraction. I felt smug in the assumption that fostering sexual attraction, generally speaking, has more to do with showing social compatibility, than with showing a culture-obedient wardrobe. (Generally speaking.)

And together, we old lovers shared greasy, heavily loaded chips and mutually enjoyed my lack of food shame or "date clothes" at the moment. I felt defiant, and comfortable in seasonably-appropriate layers.

PS: Please do not associate The Matador with smug couples being total dickweeds about fashion, while people-watching through the windows. The Matador is better than that.

PSS: I do still love keeping an eye on fashion, and occasionally "updating my look," even though I know that doing so doesn't necessarily make me any sexier. I do it for myself, and I have no illusions about that. I may even wear a mini skirt in cold weather someday, just to rebel against this blog post.