I hate when I think I’m all kinds of clever only to find out that there are other people with the same exact cleverness. Basically, ever since seeing Portlandia’s "Put A Bird On It" skit I have felt that, in my life, I tend to make everything better by putting an egg on it. (Please see the entire month on August 2013 in my archives. It’s basically an ode to eggs.) Every time I top a salad/soup/piece of bread with a soft boiled egg, I think…”Put an egg on it!”. And then I giggle at my cleverness. And THEN I find a cookbook that basically proves that I’m not unique in my cleverness at all. Real Truth.
pic: A Cup Of Jo
Super Awkward Montage of Students Mistaking a Video Camera for a Stills Camera
This video. Pure genius! I mean, who doesn’t want to look their “best” in every picture even if it means holding a pose for an ridiculously long amount of time? You can’t blame these poor students, but it sure is funny. Real Truth.
As a follow-up to my last little post, I must admit that I “pinned” this sprout recipe just this morning! I may exaggerate, but I do not lie. Real Truth.
GET THAT SOUPY GREEN BEAN SHIT OUTTA HERE. C’mon, anybody showing up with that casserole from a can didn’t even fucking try. How about something much tastier that packs some actual nutrition in it? Bring this bastard to Thanksgiving and nobody is going to ask you to do the goddamn dishes.
ROASTED BRUSSELS SPROUTS WITH QUINOA AND CRANBERRIES
1 ½ pounds of brussels sprouts
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 cup quinoa
1 ¾ cup water
pinch of salt
1/3 cup toasted almonds
1/3 cup dried cranberries (if you can’t find any, don’t fucking sweat it)
¼ cup chopped parsley
1/8 teaspoon of salt
pepper to taste
2-3 cloves of garlic
2 ½ tablespoons red wine vinegar
2 tablespoons lemon juice (about 1 lemon)
2 teaspoons Dijon mustard
1 teaspoon olive oil
Heat the oven up to 400 degrees. Tear off any fucked up lookin leaves on the brussels sprouts and chop them into quarters (or halves if they are little). Toss them with a tablespoon of olive oil and spread them out on a baking sheet. Roast those sons of bitches for 20 minutes, stirring half way, or until the sprouts are golden and kinda burnt in some places. Goddamn delicious. Just trust. Boiling these tiny cabbage-looking motherfuckers is a crime. ROAST OR GTFO.
While that shit is going down, rinse the quinoa with some water so that it isn’t bitter when you cook it (yeah, you’re fucking welcome). Throw it in a medium pot with the water and pinch of salt and bring it to a boil over a medium heat. Turn the heat down to a simmer, cover that shit, and let it cook for about 15-20 minutes or until all the water is gone and the quinoa is tender. Turn off the heat. Chop up the garlic all small and throw it in a small glass with the rest of the ingredients for the dressing and mix well.
When the sprouts are done, toss them in a bowl with the cooked quinoa and the dressing. Mix that shit so that everything is coated real well. Add the almonds, cranberries, parsley, salt, and pepper and mix again. Taste it and see if you need more salt or pepper or whatthefuckever you think is missing. Serve warm or at room temperature.
Serves 4-6 as a side, double that shit and bring it to Thanksgiving if you feel like being a popular motherfucker
I want to f@&*#%g make this so bad. My new found love of brussels sprouts is FIERCE. Real Truth.
OK…this is a 100% Real Truth…I did not go searching for this video. It would have never occured to me to search “Pentatonix: Beyonce 28 songs in 6 minutes”! I was minding my own business, just checking Cupcakes & Cashmere and wouldn’t you know that C&C posted a link to it! Guys, make no mistake, I LOVE a capella. Pitch Perfect…um yes…watch it once a month…at least. Am I excited about the new a capella reality show currently in development and for the return of The Sing-Off? You can bet your ass I am! But, I do not spend all day, every day looking for this stuff. Until this week I hadn’t thought of Pentatonix since they won The Sing-Off and here, in no more than 4 days, I am posting about them twice. TWICE! And don’t EVEN get me started on my love for Queen Bey! I feel like the universe is trying to tell me something. Real Truth.
As I was sitting at my computer just now typing emails and doing random google searches, I realized that my arms were throbbing. Like a dull achy throb right under the outside of my shoulders but before the biceps. Why are they throbbing you ask? Well, because I chose to put my hair in a messy bun on the tip top of my head this morning. Two hours ago. Yep, my arms are now sore because I spent more than 5 consecutive minutes with my hands raised over my head trying to perfect my messy bun. Or, to paraphrase, I am sore from fixing my hair. This is 30. Real Truth.
As Aretha would say…Find out what it means to me. Well, I recently found out what it means to my Father-in-Law.
A couple weeks ago we celebrated my FIL’s 59th Birthday by grilling out at his house. Also in attendance were Mr. Blackman (obviously…my FIL being his Dad and all), my Step-Mother-in-Law, and my 9-year-old Half-Brother-in-Law. The thing about having a 9-year-old BIL is that you find yourself talking about boogers, farts, poop, WWF wrestlers and watching your husband and your BIL throw nerf toys at each other (and any innocent bystanders) for HOURS. I can NOT conceal the anxiety induced by constant indoor ball/toy throwing. And I can barely feign excitement about constant fart sniffing and poop jokes…try as I might. So, basically, I come across as a big ol’ barrel of fun.
At this point, I need to take a moment to digress. Now, I love Kyle’s family and I think it’s awesome that he and his brother have so much fun together. It is not their fault that typical pre-pubescent childhood antics make me a nervous wreck. It’s just my chemical make-up…I have trouble communicating with kids. I had trouble communicating with kids when I was a kid. The more I try the worse the conversation/situation gets….ANYWAY…
After enjoying the b-day dinner and playing a rousing game of “2 Truths and A Lie”, my FIL said he had a fun game we could play. He left the table and came back with a package of Oreo’s. The object of the game was to move an Oreo from your forehead all the way down your face and into your mouth without using your hands OR the Oreo falling off your face. Clearly, staring at the ceiling with a cookie on your face while frantically moving every possible facial feature, makes you look absolutely ridiculous. But, I do LOVE me some ridiculousness so I was pumped! My first try ended devastatingly with an Oreo on the floor, but by the second round, to the utter surprise of my FIL, I had it down pat! Oreo…straight to the mouth!!
My FIL was shocked! My typical anxious demeanor, due to constant indoor ball throwing, had clouded his perception of my own ability to be absolutely absurd. He had no idea I had it in me and told me so. He also said that he had never been more proud to call me his Daughter-in-Law. Boom. Respect. Real Truth.