A heart! In a cake! My brain just exploded.
Tutorial at i am baker, via swissmiss
Category Archives: Food
Heart Cake
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V-Day Pizza
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Rainbow Cake
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Candy Corn Jell-O
Real candy corn is way too sweet for me, but this Jell-O recipe, described as “a Creamsicle-like concoction of orange Jell-O and a sweetened condensed milk-based gelatin” sounds so delish. What a cute Halloween treat!
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Hot Hot Heat
When it comes to handling spicy food, I’m kind of a rockstar. Really. Ever since high school when I would scarf down a bag of Flaming Hot Cheetos every day between second and third period, my tolerance for all things muy picante has been impressive. I’m known for always ordering the hottest item on the menu at Thai, Indian and Cajun restaurants (“How spicy?” “SPICY!”) and I’ll be sure to give my dining counterparts an I warned you look every time they insist on tasting my dish, only to wince in pain and squeak out the words “More water, please.” Matt says I have no taste buds and maybe he’s right. I think everything tastes better after it’s smothered with a little of this:
Or this:
(I keep a bottle at my desk at all times.)
Or this:
Still, when a friend and fellow spice-lover suggested we take our talents to the next level and try the Orochon Spicy Ramen Challenge in Los Angeles, I kinda freaked. I love spicy, but I’d never been challenged before. The dish I would be consuming — “Special #2” — was featured on Man V. Food and even the fire-eaters couldn’t finish it! This was the big leagues, baby.
But with nothing better to do on a Friday than eat dinner and later moan in the bathroom all night, I decided, what the heck? This too shall pass. (Get it? Get it? Snort.)
When we got there, we saw a table full of college boys who had brought their own milk. Clearly, they had done this before. I thought about running to the market to buy some milk for myself, but Matt reminded me I’m lactose intolerant.
So the eight of us ordered. Two Special #2s and six other bowls of ramen of varying levels of spiciness. (There are NINE LEVELS.)
Here’s how the rest of the night unfolded:
Pre-challenge jitters.
Hey, it’s not so bad.
OK, it is. Kill me now.
The first few bites are spicy, but delicious. A mind-blowing flavor-mix of … honestly, who knows what? Did you see my bowl? It’s red. But after Bite #7 or so, I started to feel out of breath and slightly delirious and pretty much realized I’d never make it to the finish line. I think the waiter knew this from the start. He didn’t even bother timing me. (If you finish in 30 minutes, broth and all, you get your mug up on the infamous Wall of Bravery. We only saw one female up there.) I finished just about all the “stuff” (noodles, sprouts, bamboo shoots) minus the fresh jalepeno slices, but barely even touched the soup. The stuff is deadly. Thinking back, I should have bottled it all up, poured it in spray cans and sold the cans as poorman’s Mace.
I have officially been put in my place on the spice scale. And I now have a small canker sore.
But I got “props” and those are worth something, right?
No? DANGIT!
Gone too soon
‘Twas a very good weekend, so carefree and full of snuggles, the type of weekend that makes your heart deflate a little the moment the sun starts to fade on Sunday evening. No, no, no, weekend, please don’t go, I’m not through with you yet. Stay awhile. I’ll pour you some tea, or how about some scotch? (Psss … someone, run out and get me some scotch.) But alas, it vanishes into the night, leaving us its evil replacement: Monday. Shiver. ‘Til next time, I suppose. Here are some snippets.
- Went shopping. Found this:
$29.80 at Forever 21. You could just kiss me, I know. Sometimes I think that if I wear warm clothes, the god of weather will take a look at my wardrobe and think, “Oh yeah! It’s fall! Thank you for reminding me!” and tweak the temperature accordingly. This never works, of course, and I’m often left annoyed and sweaty.
- Went to a potluck. Made my famous guacamole (okay, okay, I used the premade mix from the grocery store BUT added a ton of other good stuff — delish!) and these little heart attacks:
Some were a little burnt, as you can tell, but who cares? They were wrapped in bacon! The potluck was so much fun. We ate deliciousness, played beer pong (I was benched after missing the table repeatedly), sang karaoke and watched some girl-on-girl MMA action (disgusting, but surprisingly entertaining). Went home tired and happy.
- Went to Borders. Had every intention of checking out all your great recommendations, but was lured by the bargain table and ended up picking up The Orchid Thief by Susan Orlean (always wanted to read it, but never got to it) and Bad Monkeys by Matt Ruff (never heard of it, but seemed enticing). Also hung out in the kid’s section and fell in love with The Gift of Nothing by Patrick McDonnell. I shoved it in Matt’s face, telling him he had to read this book RIGHT THIS SECOND, then watched him intently as he flipped through the pages. “What did you think? So special, huh? Do you feel all warm and fuzzy?” I asked. “Eh,” he replied. I then went on to question my choice of boyfriends.
- Saw Nick & Norah’s Infinite Playlist after some rave reviews. It was not so good. I can’t stand puke (or verge of puking) scenes and there were plenty of those. I did, however, like Kat Dennings’ lipstick.
- Went to a wine tasting event. Classy.
- Ate pho twice.
- Straightened up my room. Still doesn’t feel clean.
- Ran a little.
- Re-hydrated.
- Hugged a lot.
‘Tis all. Goodbye weekend. I love you.
Always and pho-ever
I don’t like eating at restaurants alone, but I’ll do it for pho because 1) pho can get nasty when you transport it elsewhere and 2) when I want pho, I want it NOW and don’t have time to round up a buddy. Anyway, I go to this pho place in Torrance and, like most Asian mom ‘n’ pop joints, there’s very little space between tables as the owners try to cram in as many customers as humanly possible. (Asians and their precise calculations.) So when I eat by myself, there’s a good chance I’ll overhear some conversations. Tonight, I heard couple breaking up. A lesbian couple breaking up.
It was so crazy. There were these two girls who looked like they were in college (Matt: Were they hot? Me: Yeah, pretty hot) just sitting there, dishing out their issues: You’re too clingy. I’m not ready to settle down. When I think about you, I feel nothing. I don’t love you anymore. We moved in together too soon. Stop pretending you know how I feel. I need my space. You need to move out. Tonight.
All the while, I’m just a foot and-a-half away, carefully slurping my Sriracha-saturated broth, trying not to draw attention to myself. I don’t know why I’m telling you this. I’ve just never experienced a lesbian break-up before and I sort of wish I had a pho buddy to share it with.
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Saucy
I pull up to the drive-thru window at Del Taco and a man in a visor asks, “Would you like to try our new hot sauce, Del Inferno?”
Would I? WOULD I?
I get these little packets home, squeeze the sauce onto my chicken soft taco and take a bite. Not bad! Tangier than Del Scorcho with a mightier kick. It’s extreme, kind of like Xxtra Flaming Hot Cheetos, which apparently were a bust because they are now only sold on eBay. Though I’m still partial to Del Scorcho. Maybe I’ll try mixing the two together next time. Oh, the possibilities. These are the few joys left of the life that is mine.
Posted in Food
Dear food diary,
Today, I consumed:
- a microwavable apple cobbler thingy
- a bag of Flaming Hot Cheetos
- a monster can of sugar-free Red Bull
- cold ramen noodles from Marukai
- one miniature Laffy Taffy
- a Diet Coke
- one plate of chips and salsa
- a hot dog w/ jalepenos
- one coconut-crusted shrimp
- one fried onion string
- a vodka tonic
Yes, it is that time. Yes, it is also deadline week. No, Tiff, I won’t be able to get fitted for my bridesmaid dress tomorrow. No, you shouldn’t worry because they’ve invented Spanx.
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That’s hot. Or is it?
Anyone who knows me knows that the essence of my being is Flaming Hot Cheetos. The tips of my fingers are permanently stained red. I’ve had coughing attacks because of FHC overdoses. If I’m really full, I will sometimes pick up a cheeto, suck off the red powdery goodness, and then throw away the remaining puffed log. I’m disgusting and oh-so proud.
Today, at 7-Eleven, this caught my eye:
Xxtra Flaming Hot Cheetos
These bad boys claim to be TWICE as hot. It was 9 a.m., so I decided to go with the regular FHCs, as I didn’t really want to be lying in the office in fetal position the rest of the day. But I’m very curious. Has anyone tried these?
UPDATE: THEY TASTE LIKE BURNING! I tried them today and, yes, they are noticably hotter. It’s the type of hotness that creeps up on you. You know, like, “Oh, these aren’t hot at all. What a gyp. Crunch. Crunch. Crunch … AHHHHHHHH!” But they’re pretty good, I guess. Yay for the FHC Empire.
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