mychai's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Too tired to think of a title. Wowsers, I am beat! After going to sleep imediately after last night's diary post, my mom started waking my ass up at 9:00 this morning. For some reason, I told her that I wanted to start cooking early so I wouldn't be rushing at the last minute. But really... How fun is it to cook when you aren't rushing around, throwing plates and forks around, hoping to God that your entr�e is going to work, not sure because you don't have time to sample it, and plating things up with the blind faith that your ingredients were good and you didn't do anything that would royally screw things up. I don't think I ever mentioned this evening's menu. So, here it is: Appetizer Bruschetta with three different toppings: roasted garlic with tomato and bleu cheese (my favorite); warm olivado (olive mash); and freshly made, uncooked tomato sauce with prosciutto ham. Salad Baby spinach leaves with celery, green onion, roasted red peppers, and fried Asian noodles with a Thai vinaigrette. Entr�e Crab-stuffed beef tenderloin filet, topped with a balsamic vinegar and red wine reduction, served with a risotto with asparagus tips and lemon. Dessert Chocolate-filled pastry cups, topped with strawberries and a cream topping I never even tasted one of the filets with crab meat. Nor did I get a finished sampling of the risotto. But I made up by having two dessert servings. Which were -- to toot my own horn -- delightful! But I sure hope the risotto was decent. It is easy to make a mediocre risotto. Especially when you are getting rushed. The resturaunt where I worked served a risotto with one of the entr�es. And I never thought it was a really good risotto. Kind of dry. I love risotto, and by the book it looks easy to make. But I would say it is one of the hardest dishes to truly get right. Oh. And in case you ever drive to South Mississippi or South-Western Louisiana and suddenly get a hankerin' for prosciutto ham, you are as good as out of luck. I called six stores in both my town and in Louisiana, and nobody had any. Yet the crappiest of stores back in Columbia have tons of prosciutto. What up wit dat? And you won't have much more luck finding puff pastry, either. Am I boring you with my food talk yet? My sister's baby is absolutely adorable. That is, when she isn't screaming her little head off. I think that has accumulated to about 10 total minutes since I got home. I was hoping for a gentle, sleep-all-day, smile the whole time she's awake baby. Those are the ones that are so cute it makes you wanna vomit. But not this one. Nosireebob. She screams like a sonofabitch. She the screamiest damn baby I've ever seen. My sister thinks she may have cholic. But there's not anything you can do for cholic. I read on a messageboard that one person rubbed her baby completely head-to-toe in olive oil, and it supposedly helped. I'm afriad if I did that, I would accidently, out of habit, toss her on the stove and lightly sautee her, making a nice pan sauce of wine, shallot, and capers. When it comes to kids, I keep a strict no-olive oil proximity rule. But dang-dawg, that baby can scream. So, I'm tired again. I was in the kitchen for a total of 9 hours and fifteen minutes from my first chop to finishing wiping off the stove. My legs are tired, my creativity is shot, and my fingers are still a little wrinkly from washing so many dishes. Yes, ladies. I cook AND clean! After I got done in the kitchen, I put on my running shorts and ran around my old neighborhood. I busted out about a mile and a half until I walked the rest of the way. I used ta could only run a hundred or so feet. I's be getting into shape, my friend. But I am taking plenty of pictures. I will post them as soon as I get home. My dad is going to let me wear his old Air Force forrest fatigues from when he was an Air Traffic Controller in the Viet Nam War. For all of you ladies who want to see me in uniform, you will get your chance. But until tomorrow, I am going to sign off. Because wowsers, I am beat! 1:00 a.m. - Thurs, July 4, 2002 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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