Tag Archives: kale

To Beet Or Not To Beet?

11 May

33643771-parsnip-on-the-boards-vegetable

It’s time to decide whether to join a community supported agriculture (CSA) for when black thumb takes root and flourishes in my little garden the way it has for, well, ever.  For all the years.  And while I assume that it’s tough being an oddsmaker in Las Vegas and Atlantic City, I can pretty much guarantee that here in my garden, it’s Black Thumb to win with Tomato Blight to place and Gardening Is Like Setting Dollar Bills On Fire to show.  (And they’re off!)

It’s not an easy decision given that I still have parsnips from last year’s CSA in the bottom of the vegetable drawer which, while a testimony to their freshness, are also an indictment of my family’s (and friend’s and relative’s as well as complete stranger’s) eagerness to work with the parsnip.  (Side note: this is also a testament to my mad refrigerator cleaning skills in that cleaning the refrigerator makes me angry.)

There’s a reason you don’t see bookstores with parsnip sections.  Bookstores are rare enough; but a bookstore with a parsnip section?  Never gonna happen.  The parsnip is the Jim Gaffigan of carrots (big and pale) and even though Mr. Gaffigan has written two books (including “Food A Love Story,” that practically wrote itself and includes such prize-winning sentences as: “[t]here’s never a strike at the Cheesecake Factory,” and “the Waffle House vibe feels more like that of a halfway house or a mobile home than an actual house,”) he remains an acquired taste.  Unless Starbucks introduces a Mochaparsnipaccino (“freshly-dug parsnips layered between Columbian roast coffee and FairTrade Peruvian coco.”  Venti, $7), the parsnip and the bookstore shall never intertwine.

Joining a CSA also means that every Tuesday from June to November the seat belt warning will continually chime because the passenger seat will be so weighted down with vegetables, other than parsnips, that the on-board computer will assume I have an unbuckled teenager sitting beside me.  It’s usually during potato and onion weeks when this happens although occasionally the chime stays on when I am merely transporting grapes (also known as cases of wine).

Of course picking up the cabbage and kale (so very much kale) from a “drop off” adds a certain mystique to otherwise boring (and often gassy) produce.  Also it’s fun to ask the intern if this is the good s*** that you talked to the “grower” about and, also, is it seedless?  (Because sometimes the jokes are just for me and I often dwell in Greenwich Village circa 1978 in my mind- when I’m not sleeping.)

Sleep rock thy brain.  (Hamlet, Act III, Sc. 2.)

We’re Off To See The Doctor

19 Dec

blog image oscar the grouch

Everyone needs an easily distracted friend.

Tina is the reason for my recent 3 Day Detox Diet.

Apparently, what began as an online search for tickets to “Wicked” ended with Tina standing on my porch with a bag of “food” (pineapple, green apple, spinach, flax, coconut oil, avocado, kale, bananas, more kale, etc.) while visions of boundless energy and flat bellies danced in her head.  Thank you, Celebrity Doctor.

Anyway, as a firm believer (see, parts of me are already firm) in being able to withstand anything for three days, I signed on.

And all was fine until Day One lunch which, like breakfast, was made in a blender.  (Let me pause for one second here to mention the significant amount of blender washing that ensued.  On the other hand, I didn’t clean anything else (or chew) for three days.)

Lunch was celery, pineapple, green apple, a cucumber, a lime, coconut oil and almond milk blended into one intensely beautiful green mass.  How it maintained its blender shape when plated was amazing.  And knowing that the color came from real foods versus a chemistry lab was inspiring.

Sadly, a Detoxer cannot eat only shapes and colors which is a bummer because Day One lunch did, if fact, have a Sesame Street aura about it and by that I mean it tasted like how I imagine Oscar the Grouch would taste (without salt).

He’s the one who lives in a garbage can right?  Sure, on the outside he’s all bright, happy, fibrous green.  But on the inside?  Trash and bitterness.   Enjoy.

By the end of Day Two, I had mastered the art of consuming lunch in four hideously large, icy-cold gulps.  Because nothing’s better than seventy-two hours of Upstate New York winter and a supply of icy-cold liquids (only) to keep you fueled.

Winter in Upstate New York is where melting cheese on things was invented for crying out loud.  Sometimes, when winter seems cruel and never-ending, we lift our spirits by melting two or more cheeses together and serving with pretzels and breadsticks.

We know that surviving winter means eating carbs (which are often served with tequila and lime).

Speaking of crying out loud, Day Three arrived.

By now I was emotionally attached to my blender.  Like when training a puppy, I was obligated to be near the blender every three hours or so.  Also like a puppy, the Detox Diet makes you pee a lot- just not while jumping up on people.  (Oh!  If ever oh ever a wiz there was!)

Still, my energy level was high and my skin glowed.   (Did I mention the required nightly lavender bath soaks?  They’re required.  As in: “leave Mommy alone!  She has to take a required nightly lavender bath soak.  Your mother is detoxing for crying out loud!”)

Speaking of crying out loud, I called Tina early on Day Three.  She was having coffee (with cream and sugar) having quit the Detox Diet after the mango/cayenne dinner shake on Day One.  Day One.

And yet somehow, by the time my final bath had been drawn, Tina, as the result of another internet search for “music theory-dyads,” had purchased the entire Insanity workout DVD series having convinced herself that she can withstand anything for sixty days.

We start Monday.

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