Low-Fat Lunch With Vogue

There's been all this brouhaha of late about this article in the April 2012 Vogue about this lady who put her daughter on a diet.  Everyone on the internet has had their knickers in a knot for days (which is like years in internet time), so I had to buy the magazine and read the article.

Let's get skinny!

I read the article over lunch.  This was probably the first time a Vogue magazine had ever been in the breakroom at work.  Amazingly, no one said anything.  That was surprising because they all made such a fuss when I brought in Of Human Bondage, the novel by Somerset Maugham.  Though Vogue only has "editorial" "fashion" pictures of bondage, rather than "bondage" in the title, which I guess makes all the difference.

Anyhow.  The article wasn't anything that anyone needed to flip out about.  But I did think it was funny that the add next to its first page showed a bride "eating" a piece of wedding cake.  I would have loved a piece of wedding cake for dessert instead of the low-fat "key lime pie" yogurt that Spousal Unit gave me.  He said "It tastes like dessert!"  No.  What it tasted like was tart artificial lemon flavouring.  And what it looked like was light yellow-green paste.  But at least it was low fat, right?

Ugh.

My "main course" was leftover lentil and rice soup.  Low fat, vegetarian and probably all of 1 point on the Weight Watcher Jenny Craig LA Weight Loss scale of food you can eat piles of without worrying about thunder thighs.

SUNOVABITCH!

My friend in the adjacent business park Skypes me to ask me if I'd like to join her for lunch at one of the fake Japanese restaurants in the area.  I'm like, sure, why not.

We get to Fake-O Sushi at 12:15.  We order something hot that doesn't even require the attention of the sushi chef because the guy is swamped making what appears to be a zillion take-out orders.

The losing meal.

We get our miso soups and we figure everything is going well.  Then we wait.  And wait.  And watch people who came in after us get served.  At around a quarter to 1, my friend starts fretting because she has to get back to the office.  She's got a 1:30 meeting.   I get up and ask the waitress about our order.  She says, "It'll be ready in 2 minutes." 

Two minutes come and go.  We get complementary spicy salmon hand rolls.  That's awesome, but I tell the waitress that we'd rather have our HOT meal than the complementary sushi. 

My friend doesn't like spicy salmon, so I give her hand roll to the guy next to us who's also been waiting.  He came in after us.  He got served about two seconds after I gave him the hand roll.

It's now 1pm.  My friend is like, "I gotta get back."  I go see the waitress again.  She says that our food is now ready.  That's fantastic, but we have to leave.  I ask to get it to go.

Meanwhile, someone's come to pick up the zillion take out orders.  She gives me a dirty look as I'm telling the waitress that I need the meals to go.  I tell the take-out order woman that we've been waiting almost an hour for our food.  She replies, haughtily, that she put in her order and hour and a half ago so it better be ready.  I congratulate her for getting her order.

The waitress puts both my friend and my order together in the same bag.  I tell her that my friend and I don't work at the same location.   I tell her how displeased we are with the service.  I tell her that now we're late for a meeting and hungry. I tell her that this was really Not OK.  She doesn't blink.  We tell her we won't be back.  Nothing.  But Take-Out Lady is giving us dirty looks for taking too long at the cash.

I get back to work and down my soggy tempura yam rolls and chicken katsu.  It was not good.

Mac'n'cheese: The leftovers that eat like slime.

Mac'n'cheese is one of those dishes that is really tasty on day 1, but becomes a congealed mass on day 2.  Actually, it becomes a congealed mass about an hour after it's made.  You'd think that it would microwave OK, that the sauce would re-become saucy and whatnot, but no.  It just kinda gets gross and oily and the pasta turns to mush.  It's not my favourite leftover.

Less than satisfactory lunch.

Now, if you fry leftover mac'n'cheese, it's a totally different story.  A nice crust forms and you get a lovely crunch out of it.  But, you know, the break room doesn't have a stove top or even a hot plate and I'm guessing that keeping one at my desk would violate some fire safety policy or something.  Which means that I won't be having fried mac'n'cheese at work.

For "dessert" I had one of those low-fat Greek yogurt thingies that promise a decadent, creamy texture without loads of fat, gelatin or cornstarch.   I gotta say that it wasn't bad, but it still lacked the fatty mouthfeel of full fat yogurt.  But I probably shouldn't be eating full fat yogurt.  Or at least the guys in the office tell me I shouldn't.  Apparently even though they down Wendy's burgers for lunch, they are very health-conscious.

So It Has Come to This: Business Park Bulgogi

I used to work in a building that boasted its own shitty cafeteria/diner on the ground floor.  The place started off awful and then, by the time I left that job, was remarkably OK.  One of the things they served "special" on Fridays was dumplings.  It was Dumpling Fridays.

At the time, I didn't know that business park cafeterias depended on this kind of predictability to keep the business of the business park denizens.  But now I know.

It was Friday and I did not want to eat the revolting Friday fish'n'chips from the cafeteria/diner in the building next door.  I wanted something else.  I was wondering if it would be bad form to drive to my old business park for Dumpling Friday. 

The classy grey Business Park Bulgogi Take Out Bag.

Then someone told me that the other cafeteria/diner in the other building next door had dumplings.  Off I went!

When I got there I discovered that it was California Roll Friday. Dumplings were on Tuesday:  Dumpling Tuesdays.  Wednesdays were Bim Bim Bap Wednesdays.  I don't know what Thursdays and Mondays are.  But I did find out that they have a "standing" special of Beef Bulgogi.  The lady behind me in line said it was good, and I figured it couldn't be much worse than the barely-edible fish'n'chips at that other place.

The bulgogi wasn't bad.  Apparently the proprietress makes her own marinade and it's a family secret.  Or it's from a bottle and she's trying to maintain an air of mystery and authenticity to have a one-up on the greasy spoon in the other building.  And unlike the other cafeteria/diner in the other building, this place had Sriracha sauce.  Sriracha:  The Miracle Condiment That Makes Everything Taste Awesome -- including Business Park Bulgogi. 

Floor Pancakes: Best Laid Plans

What's that Robbie Burns poem about best laid plans?  "The best laid plans of mice and men gang-a-lang-a-lay"? 

And now I've angered the entire membership of the Robbie Burns society. 

Thankfully I didn't confuse him with Robbie Williams the way I usually do.  Then I bet I would get hate mail. 

What then? poor beastie, thou maun live!

Actually I wouldn't because I doubt anyone from either the Robbie Burns society or the Robbie Williams fan club reads this.

It was a Saturday morning, and Spousal Unit and I thought it would be great fun to make pancakes with The Toddler.  But unlike the other weekend mornings when we made pancakes with The Toddler, The Toddler did not cooperate.  Flour went everywhere, eggs were sacrificed and pancakes were burnt.  And we ended up eating on the play mats.

Did you know that baby wipes remove maple syrup from play mats?  Well now you know.

Finally Pasta!

As a nice Italian Girl, you would have expected that I'd have posted pictures of pasta earlier or more often.  (Actually, maybe I have.  I can't keep track anymore.)  The truth is:  I eat pasta so often, that I don't think it's "special" enough for this blog.   I mean, what's the point about writing about something you eat all the time? 

Did you really think there would be leftovers?

I know what you're thinking -- if you actually exist and are reading this --, you're thinking "What about coffee?  Do you know how many stupid pictures of Chartreuse Mug you've subjected me to?"  But coffee is special!  Coffee is always special!  The mere act of preparing and drinking a coffee is special. 

I would go so far to say that Chartreuse Mug deserves its own blog.  Something like "Life According to Chartreuse Mug".   It's coming.  You don't have to read it -- and I'm sure you won't -- but it's coming.  That's what happens when you offer free blogging.


In other words:  lay off the coffee.

Anyways: pasta.

The other night we made a big vat of meat sauce.  Please note that pasta and meat sauce is not the same as "Pasta Bolognese".  Bolognese sauce is some kind of magic, voodoo, slow-simmer sauce made with pork sausage and minimal tomato.  The Bolognese people are very sensitive about it. 

What we made was ground beef, fried with garlic and hot pepper, covered in pulverised canned tomato and then simmered for 20 minutes, just to warm it up.  Yeah, it sounds lame, but it's pretty damned tasty, especially when you smother it all in ground parmiggiano reggiano and wash it down with red wine.  And who are you to argue with me, a Genuine Italian Girl Who Learned How To Cook From Her Italian Mother? 

And, most importantly, who are you to argue with the clean plates?

Finally! A Starbucks Bleuch That Doesn't Suck.

It took a while, but I finally found a Starbucks VIA bleuch that doesn't totally suck!  Starbucks VIA Tribute Bleuch is pretty OK.  I'm not going to say it's awesome, because it isn't.  The most I can say is that I didn't grimace and go "Euch" on my first sip.  I didn't get that disgusting acidic burnt flavour that is Starbuck's trademark.  It also didn't have a watered-down taste the way the Veranda Bleuch does. It doesn't taste of anything but coffee. Pretty decent, OK coffee.  In fact, I'd say that it tastes a lot like MacDonald's new coffee.

The espresso cup is amazed that the culturally insensitive mug was emptied of its contents.

Now you may be wondering why the hell I keep buying Starbucks VIA Bleuch when I obviously dislike it.  Well, it's because of all the instant coffees, it's the only one that doesn't taste absolutely hideous.  Most instants taste like coffee-flavoured syrup dissolved in water.  They have this weird, empty aftertaste that makes you question why anyone not stuck on a submarine in the South Pacific circa 1944 would agree to drink this shit.  It also confirms that instant Karma doesn't exist because the marketing geniuses who convinced people not stuck on a submarine in the South Pacific circa 1944 to drink this shit weren't automatically struck by lightning or hit by giant boulders on their ways home.

Starbucks VIA at least tastes like real coffee.  It tastes like Starbucks shitty coffee, yes, but coffee nonetheless. 

Bloodletting

It was probably crummy

It was a bright, unusually warm Tuesday morning when I went to the clinic to have them let my blood.  They required me to fast for 12 hours before they drained me, presumably because they couldn't get accurate sugar readings or some such unless I was completely starving and on the verge of collapse.

After the bloodletting, I really needed to eat something.  In all their infinite wisdom, the owners of the clinic included a Lettieri coffee stand on the ground floor.  I'm sure when these plans were drawn up someone grumbled about corporate something-something-evil, but I was so happy to see coffee and food that the place could have had a giant sign saying "Corporations Will One Day Own Your Soul" and I still would have bought food from them.

As it stood, it was a Lettieri, makers of rather tasty coffee.  I ordered a Sumatran coffee with a chocolate chip muffin.   The lady at the counter demanded that I drink the coffee before driving and I wondered why -- I felt remarkably OK.

Anyways,

I went to work (cuz I felt remarkably OK) and, as I stepped off the elevator, the world started to move.  The rest of the day was spent trying to get the office to stop spinning.  I drank the (very tasty) Sumatran coffee, ate the muffin and then got yelled at by coworkers for not drinking any water.  

HFCS and caffeine save the day!

So I had water, a rather disgusting meal of "Honey Garlic Chicken" from the lunch counter (not pictured because I rid myself of that vile goo as fast as possible), and then downed a Sprite and more coffee.  I used Desktop Espresso, natch.

Eventually the world stopped spinning and I was able to drive home.

Not a Pretty Coffee

Goddamned htc Whatever S Phone!  I took pictures today, uploaded them, and was all impressed at how easy it was (at the price of Google owning my mortal soul), only to find that the photos were awful.  AWFUL.  But, you know, no one reads this blog for the pictures anyways (or reads this blog, period), so I wrote up the whole, stupid post.

Bleuch.

Then I started wondering if I didn't actually know how to use the stupid phone's camera, so I tried to upload them again using a different image size and ta-da! it was all awesome!

Except for the fact that the phone's Blogger app overwrote my published post.  Fuckers. 

Anyways. Onward and upward.  Or something.  Whatever.  S.

To be different, I bought Starbuck VIA Veranda Bleuch in the hopes that the milder roast would not have the burnt ass taste of most Starbucks bleuchs.  But no.  Instead it tasted like watered-down burnt ass.  Lovely.  This shouldn't have surprised me given that the description of the coffee at the back of the pack was reminiscent of Tweeks coffee on South Park.

Fortunately, there was a lunch-and-learn today for the R&D team and they had leftover pizza, Doritos and Lays that they kindly left for us in the break room.  The Cheesy Doritos took care of aftertaste from the bleuch.

Doritos! Doritos! Doritos!

Food Kirsten Ate, But Which Shouldn't Have Been Eaten By Anyone

A Special Report on Fecaliscious Chocolate by Kirsten Koza, misadventure travel writer.
---
Snad, I hope you never see this on my dining table again – for many reasons. Normally I’d have sent you a photo of a wrapper. But the fact is, I can’t finish these bars of Maria Tepoztlan chocolate / xocolatl, made by Villa Vainilla.

You can taste the gritty reality of life in Mexico!

My parents were fooled into their purchase by the pretty boxes with Fair Trade stamped on the outside, while they did some last minute shopping as they left Guatemala - obviously without their reading glasses because the chocolate is apparently from Merida, Yucatan, Mexico. I say “apparently” because I’ve been virtually driving around the back streets of Merida for days, using Google Street View, looking for Villa Vainilla’s factory in Cuidad Industrial. I can’t find it.

This chocolate is grit held together by possibly some sort of industrial lube or peasant toe jam (not listed in the ingredients) that coagulates in your mouth and finally dissolves (but not fast enough) so you are left with just a mouthful of debris that honestly feels like something swept off a floor. I even can taste someone's banana peel, in the dark chocolate and cinnamon bar - overt banana peel. And the bars are boxed and then sealed in foil. So I'm thinking the banana peel is actually in the chocolate - not because my parents were smuggling bananas into Canada (which they weren't).

I wish wish I wasn't polite and didn't try so hard to appreciate the chocolate for my parents’ benefit - as if it was a taste that I was going to acquire or explore. After my folks left my place, I inspected the ghastly product and saw hacho en Mexico written on the box and immediately cracked a Montezuma joke. Six hours later, I was running from my bed to the toilet. I thought my two day bout of Montezuma’s Revenge that followed was most likely from the chocolate, but it could have been because I mocked the Aztec King.

Then, when I was feeling better, I did something really stupid. I thought I should have one more bite of the chocolate to see if it was as bad as I remembered it. It took three hours for Montezuma to pay another visit. I have no one to blame but me - but I wanted to make sure I was being fair. Villa Vainilla didn't deserve my quest for fairness. Even if their chocolate didn’t cause me to spend sleepness nights sitting on the toilet – it still tastes like shit.

I read in the Nutrition Advisor that Montezuma drank 50 cups of unsweetened cocoa a day. A mug of homemade hot chocolate today, made with a good brand of cocoa, has about 3.8 grams of fibre in it - so one can imagine how much more fibre would have been in Montezuma's (I always assumed that all that fibre was the truth behind Montezuma's Revenge). His cocoa was probably much like Maria Tepoztlan's debris filled chocolate - this is probably really authentic Aztec chocolate - but then Aztecs used to do things like genital blood-letting before leaving for work in the morning, enjoyed human sacrifice, and Aztec burglars used to carry around the severed arm from a female who died during childbirth because they believed that made them invisible (did I just make that last bit up - I don't think so) - anyway  - it stands to reason then, that their chocolate wasn't very good, either.

Less revoltingly stinky than the chocolate.

I'm still sick. It took all my will to open the boxes of chocolate and just take a picture. I'd rather have opened my box containing the shrunken head I bought last week - and he makes my entire house reek - I'd rather kiss my stinking little Amazon on the lips. 

From Kirsten Koza (www.kirstenkoza.com)

Too Tech Stupid To Take Pictures

I usually take pictures for this blog using my inherited iPhone 3 that barely works as a phone, let alone anything else. 

The iPhone has fallen on concrete, asphalt and ceramic tile without (too many) dire consequences.  I mean, sure the backlight didn't work sometimes and the mic would cut out randomly, but, you know, I could live with it. 

Actually, I couldn't.  I was looking into a new phone.  I hadn't made a decision about what to get when I dropped the iPhone on my parquet floor.  That did it.  The screen shattered. 

In order to maintain the integrity of my SIM card, I replaced the iPhone with an htc something-something S that I don't know how to use.

The long and the short of this is that until I figure out how to use this new phone, there will be guest submitters.   You might be happy about that (if you exist) as you'll have a happy reprieve from endless pictures of tupperware containers.

It's too bad, though, as I had recently taken a picture of a good coffee made using Silvia.

If you exist and would like to submit anything, let me know.  I'm guessing that if you're reading this, you're probably someone I know in real life who feels sorry for me.

I Refuse to Stop Taking Pictures of My Empty Plates!

The office (well, the whole building) receives The Globe and Mail newspaper daily.  It gets left in the breakroom where everyone reads it over lunch or snacks or other breaks.  It was a good newspaper a couple of decades ago, but has since become a bastion of dumbass in a sea of stupid.  Their "Life" section is an especially poor example of what constitutes journalism, with crowd-sourced advice columns and reader-submitter "essays" about how having knee surgery made them appreciate gardening. 

Today, along with a story about how Beyonce is breastfeeding or something, there was an opinion piece about how everyone needs to stop taking pictures of their food unless they have something interesting to say about it. 

I don't know what this guy's problem is, but I'm not going to stop taking puerile pictures of plates just because he told me to!  In fact, I'm going to take more!  And say less!  There!  How'd you like that, silly Globe&Mail guy?  Pfffffffffffffff!!!!!!!!!

Not Avocado and Cheddar Crepes

We were supposed to have avocado and cheddar crepes.

Whaddya mean "Ewwwwwwwww"? Hey! Come back here!

Lacking a certain je ne sais quoi.

Avocado and cheddar crepes are tasty! They aren't as good as brie and avocado crepes, but they're pretty damned good. The coolness and firm creaminess of the avocado counters the hot, salty oiliness of the cheese, making for a very satisfying taste experience, whether in a crepe or in a sandwich.

And avocado and cheese crepes are even better when smothered in maple syrup.  Though in all fairness even cardboard tastes awesome smothered in maple syrup.

OK.  Are we good now?  You're gonna try this at least once, right?  No?  Well, too bad, this is my blog and my food.

Anyways, all the avocados were bad despite looking firm and being bought only two days prior, so we just had cheese crepes.

Powdered Donuts!!!

Monday morning, I wandered into the break room, asked Mitch, one of the engineers, how his weekend was and opened the snack closet.  The week before we had hosted some of our salesdudes for training, so we had a bounty of crap.  But this week, we weren't expecting all that much. 

Mmmm....donut!

 

You can imagine the surprise on our faces -- Mitch and I -- when we saw a vat of powdered donuts sitting in the snack closet.  Mitch dug in right away, not at all concerned that he was the first one to open the container (I'm usually too shy to open virgin packages).  He popped one in his mouth and mumbled "Mmmmm...fresh!"  Then he popped in two more.

I took one right away.  OK, I took two.  They were soooooo tasty!  I don't know what it is about grocery store powdered donuts that makes them so fantastic.   Maybe it's the way the soft, bland yellow donut interacts with the cool, soft, powdery sweetness of the sugar coating...or something.  

They were all gone by Tuesday, but everyone in the office thanked the God of the Snack Closet i.e., Linda the office manager, for the bounty!