Skip to main content

Day 15: "Vacation" in "Mexico"

We took today off from work, because we were scheduled to be on a much-needed vacation.  It seems like a lifetime ago that we made those plans (it really was only last month), and since we cancelled them (about 2.5 weeks ago).  The world changed very quickly.  But we still wanted to acknowledge the need for a break and some recuperation. I hope you find some this weekend, too!

Mexican Beach Vacation
Right after we cancelled the flights and the hotel, I made sure that we had food on hand to have some delicious treats. And we did, starting with the afternoon snack of chips, guacamole, escabeche, and a cocktail.  We dressed up in some (for us) resortwear and it actually kind of worked.  I felt more relaxed, almost immediately!

Dinner was a Trader Joe's carne asada.  The pre-marinaded meats at TJ really are great, and this is no exception.  Our friends, Shiva and Ryan, gave us an Anova immersion circulator, and it really excels at making a perfect medium rare steak or delicious pork chop.  I have a hard time getting a good sear on the electric stove, but the steak came out wonderfully.  Paired with some pico de gallo, yellow rice, and refried beans (doctored w/ a spoonful of bacon grease.  It is, after all, supposed to be a celebration).

And, for me, no beach vacay is complete without a piña colada.  We don't have a blender, so I improvised a bit.  Pulsed fresh pineapple and some coconut cream in the mini chopper, added Gosling's rum and some simple syrup, and topped it with ginger ale over ice. Served with a twist of lime and a fancy cherry (leftover from our wedding.  Still!).

Leftover Mac n Cheese
We had just enough for two lunch portions.

English Muffin Sandwich
When I was a kid, my Grandpa used to make me what he called a "silly girl sandwich."  How I remember it was buttered toast, jam (raspberry, I think!), and scrambled eggs. Sometimes a few slices of bacon for good measure.  I was inspired by that memory this morning, and made a thin omelette, which I draped over an English muffin with butter and blackberry jam.   It was delightful.

Where do you want to go on Food Vacation, or what memory do you want to conjure up?  Get to the kitchen-- make it a reality!

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Constructivist Crap

Reading this post was like deja vu for me! I took a class just like this as an undergrad... (surprise, surprise) in the education department. I made it through that semester by taking solace in two facts: (a) I was also taking The Sociology of Education in the soc department, with a professor who actually taught the material and (b) most of us in my little liberal arts bubble wouldn't end up teachers, thus wouldn't have an opportunity to inflict such pedagogical torture on kids who needed to actually learn stuff. It would appear that Newoldschoolteacher has neither of those to help her out. God save her. The professor in my class repeatedly insisted that we were a "democratic classroom" and that she wasn't any more of an expert on the material than us. WHAT? I paid good money for that course, money that employed her to teach me. I hope that she was more expert on the material than I was! Also, when I "took responsibility for myself" and said that ...
5 comments
Read more

Privilege of Being

Robert Hass Many are making love. Up above, the angels in the unshaken ether and crystal of human longing are braiding one another's hair, which is strawberry blond and the texture of cold rivers. They glance down from time to time at the awkward ecstasy-- it must look to them like featherless birds splashing in the spring puddle of a bed-- and then one woman, she is about to come, peels back the man's shut eyelids and says, look at me, and he does. Or is it the man tugging the curtain rope in that dark theater? Anyway, they do, they look at each other; two beings with evolved eyes, rapacious, startled, connected at the belly in an unbelievably sweet lubricious glue, stare at each other, and the angels are desolate. They hate it. They shudder pathetically like lithographs of Victorian beggars with perfect features and alabaster skin hawking rags in the lewd alleys of the novel. All of creation is offended by this distress. It is like the keening sound the moon makes sometimes, ...
5 comments
Read more

Singing Metro Man

This morning on the Orange Line train to work, Singing Metro Man made an appearance. If you ride the Orange or the Blue Line, you may know of him...I’ve heard from other passengers that he’s been around for years, though I can only confirm the last three. He’s an elderly Asian gentleman, well-dressed, who steps onto the train right before the doors close. Once the train begins to move, he clears his throat, says a polite but insistent “Excuse me,” and begins to sing a hymn from his songbook. The effect is eerie. The silent morning train, everyone still half-asleep before their first cup of coffee. The whoosh of the tunnel. The man’s gentle, earnest voice singing a capella (he’s not half bad) about how we should trust in Jesus. As he reached his crescendo this morning, I half expected the train to explode or something—the moment just felt very... cinematic. Luckily, life is not a movie, and after the song was done, he wished us all a good day, exited the train and moved to the n...
2 comments
Read more