<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38916458</id><updated>2011-06-06T16:50:24.227-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I need to have a conversation with food about this</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://conversationswithfood.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/38916458/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conversationswithfood.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>hmrpita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02407432643853001915</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://farm1.static.flickr.com/231/444251517_14b68361ef_t.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>22</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38916458.post-4375618722090567209</id><published>2007-09-18T09:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-20T11:08:17.503-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Abomination? Or GENIUS? The choice is yours...</title><content type='html'>Every once in a while I play a game with the blogs I read. It's kind of the blog version of the ARG term "down the rabbit hole". It goes a little something like this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I choose a blog that I read on a regular basis, go to their blog roll in the sidebar, and randomly click on another blog. I keep doing this over and over again until I am so far away from the blog I started with, that I almost can't remember what it was. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of the blogs that I found in a friend's sidebar was &lt;a href="http://www.cookiemadness.net"&gt;Cookie Madness&lt;/a&gt;. I dig this blog because her baking technique appears to be the same as mine - which is to say, we both like to experiment with flavors, have an intuition about what combinations work well together, and aren't slaves to the recipe in front of us. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As far as I'm concerned, presentation can be a necessary part of cooking, and sure, I like things to look pretty on the platter - but it's more important that it taste good. I think that one of the secrets to cooking in general is that you have to be excited about eating the results, or be excited about serving the results to someone. Not because you want to impress them, but because you truly want them to enjoy the meal. Things taste better when they come from the heart. Empty showmanship tastes like shit. There's your pull quote. &lt;a href="http://www.adultswim.com/shows/frisky/"&gt;Ka-kow!&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I found an entry where she listed her top ten recipes - and listed on there was something she called "Frito Candy". It was something she threw together because she thought it would taste good. I've done this too - threw together things I thought would taste good as a candy -- but this took it to another level. Kind of like showing Einstein your baking soda volcano that you made for the science fair.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Frito candy is fritos and pretzels broken up and sprinkled with peanut butter cups, then covered with unsalted butter and brown sugar that you have boiled into a caramel, bake that for a few minutes, then top with semi sweet morsels, which you then spread over the concoction as it melts. Leave it in the fridge till it's hard, then break it up like toffee.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The results? Holy. Mother. Of. God.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I added some white chocolate chips to the mix, because they don't melt the way semi-sweet does, so that way, every once in a while you get a lump of yum with your omgyum.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Frito Candy.  Slowing your heart down with every bite.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ka-kow!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/38916458-4375618722090567209?l=conversationswithfood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://conversationswithfood.blogspot.com/feeds/4375618722090567209/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=38916458&amp;postID=4375618722090567209' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/38916458/posts/default/4375618722090567209'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/38916458/posts/default/4375618722090567209'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conversationswithfood.blogspot.com/2007/09/abomination-or-genius-choice-is-yours.html' title='Abomination? Or GENIUS? The choice is yours...'/><author><name>Oh. It's Kristen Again.  *sigh*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02059444551763120295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://static.flickr.com/60/156146710_e37733751d_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38916458.post-1323912006530531674</id><published>2007-08-10T10:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-12T21:10:09.930-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Eating for Three</title><content type='html'>One of the many things about being &lt;a href='http://meanlarious.blogspot.com/2007/08/will-we-be-in-our-minds-when-dawn.html'&gt;(briefly) pregnant&lt;/a&gt; that I found mind boggling, (ONE of the MANY), was how my relationship with food changed.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our first hint that something might be *different* about me?  We were out to dinner at our favorite Korean place, and Vinny said he noticed that rather than slowing down as I got full, I hit a dead stop - practically pushed myself away from the table.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were at a movie screening a few weeks later, and he asked me if I wanted something from the concession stand.  I looked at the candy displayed in front of me, and it all looked like colorful plastic.  Completely inedible.  I declined.  As we stepped up to the counter, I suddenly said, "Grape Juice!  I want Grape Juice!"  Vinny looked at me like I had 12 heads.  I am not a juice drinker.  We found our seats and I drank my juice, exclaiming all the while, "This is DELICIOUS! Why don't I order grape juice more often?"  Vinny just considered me for a bit, then said, "It's weird how there's somebody else controlling you now."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The experience taught me in no uncertain terms that in situations like this, You Are Not In Charge.  Any intentions I had -- good or bad, were blown out of the water.  Mother Nature laughed in my face.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had a package of cookies from Japan that I was saving.  My promise to myself was that I was going to open them up when I found out I was pregnant, and treat myself to one or two.  Which I did.  I treated myself to one.  And it tasted so disgusting to me, I spit it out.  Bad Intention: PWND.  I intended to eat healthy.  I wasn't going to deny myself treats here and there, but, since "Eating for Two" really only means adding another 300 or so calories to your daily intake,  I vowed to continue eating the way I eat regularly, which is pretty healthy - and not use the pregnancy as a free pass to Pieville.  Good Intentions: PWND.  I was so nauseated all the time, that I could barely keep anything down.  So much for my plans.  Life became a big game of "please let me be able to eat this, whatever it may be." Believe me, that changed from day to day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Naturally, after I had the miscarriage, I finished that package of Japanese cookies, and went ahead and cashed in on a week's pass to Pieville.  There was a drive-by coffee cake encounter somewhere in there as well, but it's kind of hazy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/38916458-1323912006530531674?l=conversationswithfood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://conversationswithfood.blogspot.com/feeds/1323912006530531674/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=38916458&amp;postID=1323912006530531674' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/38916458/posts/default/1323912006530531674'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/38916458/posts/default/1323912006530531674'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conversationswithfood.blogspot.com/2007/08/eating-for-three.html' title='Eating for Three'/><author><name>Oh. It's Kristen Again.  *sigh*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02059444551763120295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://static.flickr.com/60/156146710_e37733751d_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38916458.post-1344618705605789739</id><published>2007-07-14T14:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-14T14:39:29.378-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Positively Dippy</title><content type='html'>This blog is about relationships with food, and I am currently having an affair with Cilantro Pecan Dip from Trader Joe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O Cilantro Pecan Dip, how do I love thee? Let me count the ways.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Spread on a tortilla, with turkey and provolone and some roasted red peppers. Oh my goodness, be still my heart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Coating a floret of broccoli or cauliflower, where it's not so much a question of veggies-and-dip as having an edible utensil with which to spoon up big globs of dip.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On a panini, with any sandwich fillings you want, because here again all the other ingredients are really just an excuse to eat the dip.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or the best of all. I mix the cilantro dip with some peach salsa and use it as a dressing on a spinach salad, with leftover grilled chicken and some crumbled goat cheese. This is so tasty you could get drunk off the bliss.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/38916458-1344618705605789739?l=conversationswithfood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://conversationswithfood.blogspot.com/feeds/1344618705605789739/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=38916458&amp;postID=1344618705605789739' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/38916458/posts/default/1344618705605789739'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/38916458/posts/default/1344618705605789739'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conversationswithfood.blogspot.com/2007/07/positively-dippy.html' title='Positively Dippy'/><author><name>Sassafrassa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01575104962271866287</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38916458.post-5718031261004486218</id><published>2007-06-27T13:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-27T14:20:06.900-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Food Chemistry at its Finest</title><content type='html'>I decided to write about weird food combinations in a new post rather than as a comment in what's-her-butt's post, BECAUSE I CAN.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BECAUSE I CAN is reason enough for some of the lamest acts in history.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I was a kid, one of my favorite meals was spaghetti with cole slaw.  Cole slaw at our house consisted of chopped up green cabbage and mayonnaise.  I never cared for deli cole slaw or any kind other than CABBAGE and MAYONNAISE.  And none of that crappy stuff--it had to be Best Foods mayonnaise (or Hellmann's, as some of you might know it) and LOTS of it.  The delicious combination was to mix the cole slaw with the spaghetti, so the mayonnaise and red meat sauce became the color of thousand island dressing.  Fucking awesome.  I still did that as an adult, until I stopped eating mayonnaise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of mayonnaise:  when I was little, I used to make mayonnaise sandwiches (a piece of white bread slathered in mayonnaise, folded over and eaten).  Yummy.  Gross, but yummy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My dad would eat green bean sandwiches.  He'd butter up a piece of white bread, put cold leftover green beans on it, fold it over and shove the entire thing in his mouth and somehow manage to chew it enough to swallow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also when I was little, sometimes I'd scoop up some butter on my potato chip.  How disgusting is that?  Then again, I'd eat Nestlé Quik straight from the can by the spoonful.  I was big into baking as a child and once I creamed butter and sugar together just to eat it.  Fat and sugar addict, anyone?  And I was a runty kid too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I eat things that SOME people think are odd, but I don't.  I like tomato and cucumber sandwiches on white bread. I like cheese and pickle sandwiches, specifically, extra sharp cheddar cheese and garlic stackers on rye bread.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As a teenager I got into the habit of heating up in the microwave a flour tortilla with only Taco Bell taco sauce on it.  I still do that sometimes now. Oh yeah, I eat it after I heat it up.  I don't just let it sit there.  What do you think I am--dumb or something?  Don't answer that.  What is also good is to put some chocolate in there, such as a couple of Hershey's miniature milk chocolate bars.  The taco sauce chocolate combination is good. I like my food the way I like my men: spicy, sweet, and weird.  Or something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am sure there are others, but that's all I can think of now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;pita OUT.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/38916458-5718031261004486218?l=conversationswithfood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://conversationswithfood.blogspot.com/feeds/5718031261004486218/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=38916458&amp;postID=5718031261004486218' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/38916458/posts/default/5718031261004486218'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/38916458/posts/default/5718031261004486218'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conversationswithfood.blogspot.com/2007/06/food-chemistry-at-its-finest.html' title='Food Chemistry at its Finest'/><author><name>hmrpita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02407432643853001915</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://farm1.static.flickr.com/231/444251517_14b68361ef_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38916458.post-971084214115039519</id><published>2007-06-23T23:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-24T00:14:00.953-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Pleasure</title><content type='html'>I was at a BBQ recently and they were serving sausages.  Not hot dogs, sausages. No hamburgers.  Just all kind of sausages.  I don't really like sausages.  Maybe breakfast sausage once in a while but for the most part, a resounding meh.  So there I was  - not a hamburger in site and yet, and yet, they SAID it was a BBQ!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I dunno, BBQ to me denotes the presence of hot dogs and hamburgers.  Maybe chicken breasts and veggie burgers or portabello mushrooms for our vegetarian friends.  But that's not why I'm writing this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The real reason I am writing this is because, at said BBQ, I resorted to something that is a massive guilty pleasure for me, and I thought I would put it out there and see if I get a yum or ew from you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A slice of white bread, or a roll, slathered with butter and topped with baked beans.  It's really a baked beans sandwich with butter as your condiment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What kind of baked beans?" You might be asking right now... (or you might be vomiting in the trashcan next to your desk)  Why, I'm glad you asked, because any kind will do! Bacon and Brown sugar - Vegetarian, bbq baked beans - any of the baked bean variety, as long as they are warm enough to melt the butter just a bit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God, I love this...creation.  I think I got it from my dad.  He puts butter on everything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Does anyone else have something like this that they eat - some magical combination they've stumbled upon that is so wrong that it's oh so right?  Or so wrong that it's just wrong?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For instance, my husband introduced me to the wonder of potato chips and whipped cream cheese.  Is it hot in hell where he reigns? I wonder sometimes, because I am not a *salty* person, but boy howdy I'll eat that.  Turns out it's a family thing - I was horrified the first time I had my in-laws over, and he put that out with the other nibbly bits - but not only did they consume it, but were non-plussed at it's presence.  It clearly BELONGED there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do I hear a PB&amp;J with potato chips in the center? Biscuits with chocolate gravy? I know you're out there.... frying up oreos and mixing up doritos with M&amp;M's....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/38916458-971084214115039519?l=conversationswithfood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://conversationswithfood.blogspot.com/feeds/971084214115039519/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=38916458&amp;postID=971084214115039519' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/38916458/posts/default/971084214115039519'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/38916458/posts/default/971084214115039519'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conversationswithfood.blogspot.com/2007/06/my-pleasure.html' title='My Pleasure'/><author><name>Oh. It's Kristen Again.  *sigh*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02059444551763120295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://static.flickr.com/60/156146710_e37733751d_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38916458.post-3501749688260833162</id><published>2007-06-08T13:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-08T19:32:25.884-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What a nice smell!</title><content type='html'>Ok, so, I am trying to lose weight.  My entire life I was thin, until about 5 years ago, when I started to gain. I actually was one of those people who could eat all I wanted and what I wanted and not gain weight.  Because of that, I never had to diet (I know, wa wa, poor me, who cares).  I did go on a diet last year for the first time and it worked--I lost 20 lbs. in about 4 mos., and guess what?  I gained it all back, just like they say happens.  Sometimes "they" are SMRT.  Well, I am trying it again, and by gum, I hope to NOT gain it back, but it's not like I am Ms. Optimistic about anything, so we'll see.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I started counting calories a few days ago (June 5) and my way of doing it is I just have to keep my daily caloric intake around a certain number, so, for instance, I can eat an oz. of potato chips, but that is 150 calories I can't have in some other form.  It works out better than a no junk at all diet, because, for me, having one reduced fat Oreo cookie (50 cal.) is better than having no cookie at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Which brings me to today's breakfast.  Tony wants to know if I can eat pancakes (he is thinking no), but it turns out that I can.  So, he made me his signature delicious (dollar size in this case) pancakes.  YUMMY.  At ~425 calories (includes maple syrup and butter), not a bad deal at all.  Here is a lovely picture that sums up my feelings (even though honey on ANYthing is blicky):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/hmrpita/536266410/" title="Photo Sharing"&gt;&lt;img src="http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1135/536266410_7f04b275f5.jpg" alt="PANCAKE" height="361" width="500" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/38916458-3501749688260833162?l=conversationswithfood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://conversationswithfood.blogspot.com/feeds/3501749688260833162/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=38916458&amp;postID=3501749688260833162' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/38916458/posts/default/3501749688260833162'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/38916458/posts/default/3501749688260833162'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conversationswithfood.blogspot.com/2007/06/what-nice-smell.html' title='What a nice smell!'/><author><name>hmrpita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02407432643853001915</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://farm1.static.flickr.com/231/444251517_14b68361ef_t.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1135/536266410_7f04b275f5_t.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38916458.post-2948791906851635743</id><published>2007-06-01T21:48:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-01T22:14:40.413-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Inca Kola</title><content type='html'>When I was a kid, my mother used to take my brother and I to a hole in the wall Peruvian Restaurant called El Chalan.  We loved it so hard that she would threaten us with not going there &lt;em&gt;unless we stopped fighting immediately&lt;/em&gt;!  AND IT WORKED.  We would stop hitting and scratching each other at the mere thought of being denied our bifsteak &amp; frijoles (with an egg on top!) -- and GOD FORBID we were not allowed to have our truest love - INCA KOLA.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In later years we discovered another hole in the wall Peruvian place called El Pollo Rico.  All they made was Pollo a la Brasa - your choice was whole, half or a quarter - there's a giant oven with chickens spinning on spits, and a guy with a hatchet chops up a chicken for you, throws it on a plate with steak fries, spicy cole slaw and spicy or mild sauce (that we dip our french fries in) - and of course... INCA KOLA.  That hole in the wall became so popular, that they eventually expanded into the space next door (and the line still sometimes went outside), and now have moved to a different location entirely.  I have never found anyplace that makes pollo a la brasa quite like it - and I've had some good pollo a la brasa, to be sure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's not that INCA KOLA is so fantabulous (well, except that it is) - I'm aware that most of my love for it stems from happy childhood memories of afternoons with mom in what seemed to be our secret restaurant.  It's bright yellow - which of course filled me and my brother with glee - and tastes like bubble gum. Kind of.  Only crisper.  As an adult, and one that doesn't really dig sugary carbonated drinks, I get all happy and excited when I can drink it, but it's more of an understanding of how it relates to the food.  The sweetness offsets the spicy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wednesday I had an audition over at Sunset Gower Studios for a feature film, and on the way, I passed Mario's - a hole in the wall Peruvian restaurant that I had been wanting to try for a long while now.  One of the things i like about L.A. are the gems of restaurants you can find in unassuming strip malls.  This one always seems to have production trucks parked out in front of it - a really good sign.  My audition seriously lasted 2 minutes, I am not kidding, and my next appointment wasn't for 2 hours.  So i decided to treat myself to a real, live, sit down at a table lunch on my own, and went on over to Mario's.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I ordered the Lomo Salteado and an INCA KOLA.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lomo Salteado is strips of beef sauteed with tomatos and onions.  It comes with seasoned white rice and french fries.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How was it? REALLY FUCKING DELICIOUS.  THAT'S HOW IT WAS.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know why?  Not only because it was good on it's own - but they TOSS IT WITH THE FRENCH FRIES.  So as you eat it, the french fries get soaked in the juices, and... it's just... I mean... I can't.  I planned on taking some home for dinner later on, but that plan was FOILED.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BEHOLD:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/thedancingkids/525576062/" title="Photo Sharing"&gt;&lt;img src="http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1010/525576062_7a188e3d28.jpg" width="500" height="375" alt="Lomo Salteado" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/38916458-2948791906851635743?l=conversationswithfood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://conversationswithfood.blogspot.com/feeds/2948791906851635743/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=38916458&amp;postID=2948791906851635743' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/38916458/posts/default/2948791906851635743'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/38916458/posts/default/2948791906851635743'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conversationswithfood.blogspot.com/2007/06/inca-kola.html' title='Inca Kola'/><author><name>Oh. It's Kristen Again.  *sigh*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02059444551763120295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://static.flickr.com/60/156146710_e37733751d_o.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1010/525576062_7a188e3d28_t.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38916458.post-5126981381167040161</id><published>2007-05-26T22:16:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-26T22:26:47.491-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Rellenado</title><content type='html'>I had one too many tacos for dinner tonight and now my stomach hurts.  Three is fine, four is too many.  But they were delicious, so it was hard to resist another one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have never taken antacids or anything like that.  My theory is, you should suffer a little for overindulging and not be a pansy about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here is a quotation from Jim Gaffigan, who cracks me up (&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;he talks a lot about food&lt;/span&gt;!):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We're never satisfied when it comes to food. "You know what would be good on this burger?  A ham sandwich.  Instead of a bun, let's use two doughnuts!  That way we can have it for breakfast."  Look out McGriddle, here comes the Doughnut Ham Hamburger!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/38916458-5126981381167040161?l=conversationswithfood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://conversationswithfood.blogspot.com/feeds/5126981381167040161/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=38916458&amp;postID=5126981381167040161' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/38916458/posts/default/5126981381167040161'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/38916458/posts/default/5126981381167040161'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conversationswithfood.blogspot.com/2007/05/rellenado.html' title='Rellenado'/><author><name>hmrpita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02407432643853001915</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://farm1.static.flickr.com/231/444251517_14b68361ef_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38916458.post-8885352156432858687</id><published>2007-05-16T08:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-16T08:22:24.857-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Apology</title><content type='html'>Dear Bacon Egg and Cheese on a Roll.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am sorry that I left you out of my JAG: NYC entry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope you can forgive me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/38916458-8885352156432858687?l=conversationswithfood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://conversationswithfood.blogspot.com/feeds/8885352156432858687/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=38916458&amp;postID=8885352156432858687' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/38916458/posts/default/8885352156432858687'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/38916458/posts/default/8885352156432858687'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conversationswithfood.blogspot.com/2007/05/apology.html' title='Apology'/><author><name>Oh. It's Kristen Again.  *sigh*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02059444551763120295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://static.flickr.com/60/156146710_e37733751d_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38916458.post-639963623957566816</id><published>2007-05-14T21:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-10T02:04:20.511-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The stuff dreams are made of</title><content type='html'>This was a great food weekend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Friday night we went to Chosun Galben with Morgan and her brother for Korean BBQ&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_68toXfq_dtY/RknasW3-LgI/AAAAAAAAAAk/TDcxOcApuRM/s1600-h/IMG_1149.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_68toXfq_dtY/RknasW3-LgI/AAAAAAAAAAk/TDcxOcApuRM/s200/IMG_1149.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5064819711544274434" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and soju!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_68toXfq_dtY/RknbD23-LhI/AAAAAAAAAAs/D5_UPq9ctXk/s1600-h/IMG_1144.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_68toXfq_dtY/RknbD23-LhI/AAAAAAAAAAs/D5_UPq9ctXk/s200/IMG_1144.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5064820115271200274" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sasturday was an impromptu trip to doughboys.  (Okay, I *may* have manipulated things a bit but I plead the 5th)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I decided to get something different and boy did it ever pay off:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Onion soup with goat cheese salad:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_68toXfq_dtY/Rkk6wG3-LeI/AAAAAAAAAAU/rHVLibuPh1s/s1600-h/IMG_1173.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_68toXfq_dtY/Rkk6wG3-LeI/AAAAAAAAAAU/rHVLibuPh1s/s200/IMG_1173.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5064643854108339682" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And in all seriousness, the best lemon bar I have EVER had.  I do not kid about shit like this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_68toXfq_dtY/Rkk6vm3-LdI/AAAAAAAAAAM/qgS4rPT__X8/s1600-h/IMG_1179.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_68toXfq_dtY/Rkk6vm3-LdI/AAAAAAAAAAM/qgS4rPT__X8/s200/IMG_1179.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5064643845518405074" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All brought to us by the fabulous Jennifer! who we loved long before she let us take this picture.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_68toXfq_dtY/Rkk6wW3-LfI/AAAAAAAAAAc/m5K4J1bow8Y/s1600-h/IMG_1180.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_68toXfq_dtY/Rkk6wW3-LfI/AAAAAAAAAAc/m5K4J1bow8Y/s200/IMG_1180.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5064643858403306994" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know if she actually legally has the exclamation point after her name, but that's how it looks in my head.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/38916458-639963623957566816?l=conversationswithfood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://conversationswithfood.blogspot.com/feeds/639963623957566816/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=38916458&amp;postID=639963623957566816' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/38916458/posts/default/639963623957566816'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/38916458/posts/default/639963623957566816'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conversationswithfood.blogspot.com/2007/05/stuff-dreams-are-made-of.html' title='The stuff dreams are made of'/><author><name>Oh. It's Kristen Again.  *sigh*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02059444551763120295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://static.flickr.com/60/156146710_e37733751d_o.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_68toXfq_dtY/RknasW3-LgI/AAAAAAAAAAk/TDcxOcApuRM/s72-c/IMG_1149.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38916458.post-8623242645219602023</id><published>2007-05-07T16:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-07T17:03:29.794-07:00</updated><title type='text'>JAG: New York Edition</title><content type='html'>I am going back to NYC next week.  Dork that I am, I've been making a list of restaurants that I would like to go to while I am there, and specific things that I will hopefully be eating at these fine places.  It's by no means a compendium of the best food to have in Manhattan, or that I've had in NY.  It's mostly my version of comfort food and a reflection of my longing for home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt; The Corner Bistro with Follow-up Visit to Magnolia Bakery &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or: The Heart attack special.  Cheeseburger, lot of pickles, French Fries and then pop around the corner for a vanilla vanilla cupcake with sprinkles.  Maybe take some home for breakfast.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt; Balthazar &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Carmelized Goat Cheese Tart to start and then Steak Frites. Lots of Red Wine and Mirabelle as a digestive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt; Pearl Oyster Bar &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Lobster Roll.  Though, I hear through the grapevine that since they expanded the space, the Lobster Rolls just aren't as good as they used to be.  That would be a terrible tragedy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt; Pret A Manger &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not as good as in England, but still pretty good for a quick sandwich.  I am trying to figure out my schedule in such a way that I can get one for the plane ride home.   Super Club or Coronation Chicken.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt; Totonno's &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sign on the door - "Only God makes Better Pizzas"  There are all kinds of good parlours in NY but this was around the corner from my old apartment, so it's a sentimental thing more than anything else.  I'd be happy at John's or Patsy's or even Famous Original Ray's.  The actual original one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt; La Caridad &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Latin food in L.A. is to die for - but I miss China-Latina on a weekly basis.  Cuban food served by Chinese waiters, I survived on rice and beans from here - platanos maduros when I had more money, and when I was rolling in dough - pepper steak.  Sawdust on the floor, no ambience, paper placemats with a map of Cuba on them - my family is fond of dives with good food, and once when my mother visited I took her to La Caridad.  When we walked in the door, she gripped my arm and whispered loudly in my ear "This is a GOOD place".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt; Il Fornaio &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I found this place when I was a teenager, not even living in the city - just visiting family and going off on my own.  I had a calzone there that blew me away - calzone and a pepsi for 5$ including tip.  There is a lot of good food in Little Italy (and there are a lot of places that are overrated) but this place has always been one of my favorites.  I would walk there during the long lunch breaks they gave us on Jury Duty and have my lunch, then go have cappucine with Frank who owns La Bella Ferrara.  When times were tough for me, I remember he offered me a waitressing job.  I didn't take the job, but I never forgot how kind that was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt; Dallas BBQ &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also known as BBQ's.  The chain covers 4 corners - W 72, E73, W. 8 E 8 (St. Marks)  I've had better barbeque in my life, but my god, the cornbread is just like cake.  This was a big splurge for me when I was in acting school, and we would go to the lower east side restaurant in packs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt; The Deli that is just above the North East corner on Amsterdam and 79th Street &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just need to see if they still sell those "dinosaur" cookies.  The fact that I am obsessed with shrink wrapped iced sugar or gingerbread cookies is an entry to be saved for another time.  I would walk the extra block to catch the M79 on Amsterdam instead of Broadway to see if they had any in stock.  If they did, I bought a bunch of them and said they were for the kids I babysat.  HAHA THEY WEREN'T !! I FOOLED YOU ALL.  I need to see if they were as good as I remember them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt; T-Salon &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rather than having a cup of Tibetan Tiger at Tabla, I will just skip the middle man and go to T Salon on 20th and buy it for myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt; H&amp;H Bagels or Ess A Bagel &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anything that's warm.  When I lived at the Salvation Army Home For Women on Gramercy Park South, I used to walk over to Ess A Bagel and buy a couple bagels.  They were cheap and filling - and warm enough that I could tuck a bag of two in my coat to keep me warm, and eat one while I braved the freezing cold wind back to the place that is "dedicated to the girl away from home."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt; Sushi Samba &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've had some of the best sushi EVER in Los Angeles, not to mention friggin' Tokyo - but the thing I miss from Sushi Samba is the sweet ice tea and the ceviche.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sure there's more.  I'll never be able to fit it all in - and now I am shooting new headshots with my favorite photographer the Saturday I am there - which, sadly throws a wrench in my unbridled eating plans.  Saturday night though... well, it IS the city that never sleeps.  I can have dinner 3 times if I get an early start.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/38916458-8623242645219602023?l=conversationswithfood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://conversationswithfood.blogspot.com/feeds/8623242645219602023/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=38916458&amp;postID=8623242645219602023' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/38916458/posts/default/8623242645219602023'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/38916458/posts/default/8623242645219602023'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conversationswithfood.blogspot.com/2007/05/jag-new-york-edition.html' title='JAG: New York Edition'/><author><name>Oh. It's Kristen Again.  *sigh*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02059444551763120295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://static.flickr.com/60/156146710_e37733751d_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38916458.post-8390845606717492773</id><published>2007-04-23T15:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-23T16:57:32.896-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Tarot Deck of Eating</title><content type='html'>Recently, I shared a meal with a group of people that I didn't really know all that well.  Two of them were the acquaintances that had invited me - the others I met for the first time as we sat down in the restaurant.  The restaurant was &lt;a href='http://www.doughboys.net'&gt;Doughboys&lt;/a&gt; here in L.A. and if you aren't familiar with it, all you need to know is this - Holy Shit: Good.   Doughboys is hearty calorie laden food, and their baked goods are pretty phenomenal.  For example, they have an item on the menu which is a sandwich that has peanut butter, bananas, and chocolate placed on pan de mie bread baked on premises that is then dipped in egg batter, grilled and served with a raspberry dipping sauce.  For the savory folks: The Morning Pizza has a fresh baked crust with emmanthal cheese, pancetta, caramelized onions and 2 eggs all baked on top.  I swear to God, my heart just slowed down while typing that out.  Oh, um, they have salads too, but they serve it with home made foccacia with cheese baked on top.  Cause, ya know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So there we all were, starving, and basically wanting everything on the menu, so we ordered a bunch of different things and shared.  And we were really EATING -  as in just scarfing this food down like we were never going to eat again and talking and laughing and really enjoying ourselves.  One of the women there, one that I did not know, suddenly took advantage of a pause to say, "Wow, girls, this is a real PIG OUT!  We are PIGGING OUT! I mean, I didn't know that when we were going to do this, that it was going to be a PIG OUT."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and I thought, "SHUT THE FUCK UP, MASTER OF THE OBVIOUS.", but that's just me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the odd thing being that she had ordered half a salad and didn't touch it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, it got me thinking about how people eat or don't eat, and since we've just started this here blog about relationships with food, I thought I might try my hand at breaking down some of the types that I have witnessed.  These kind of types, in my opinion, transcend being a vegetarian, vegan, or omnivore.  It's not about what you eat, it's how you relate to the food at hand.  It's not definitive, no names are mentioned (including my own), the examples and quotes for the most part are real, and of course there will be crossover within categories, but here we go...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THE FLAGELLANT&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I confess to you Almighty God, and to you my brothers and sisters... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's as though somehow the act of contrition or the acknowledgement of sins while eating will negate any calories consumed. To wit:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I shouldn't be eating this"&lt;br /&gt;"I never eat stuff like this"&lt;br /&gt;"I won't eat dinner tonight"&lt;br /&gt;"I'll go to the gym tomorrow"&lt;br /&gt;"This is sooo bad for me"&lt;br /&gt;"We are being little piggies, aren't we?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THE ACTRESS&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't let the name fool you - it has no relation to the vocation of the individual that fits in this category.  The "actress" plays the part of the big eater, the food enthusiast, the carbohydrate pleasure monger, the chocolate whore.  Why, she's one of the girls, and she thinks she has everyone convinced that she loves a good cupcake or 4 as much as anyone else!  She LOVES to talk about how much she loves "food", and at a dinner, buffet or party, will fill her plate with yummy things, giggling about how EXCITED she is to be chowing down.  She might even TAKE A BITE and tell you how DELICIOUS it all is.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, if you watch carefully, she's not eating any of it.  She's too "engaged" in a conversation, or she's feeding it to her boyfriend/spouse in a lovey dovey manner till her plate is clean, or, you know, too busy drinking wine to exchange the glass for a fork.  "Oh! This is my SECOND plate" she says coyly, "You didn't SEE what I already ate!" - and of course there is always the imaginary giant repast of the -- er - past.  "I had SO much for lunch! It was GROSS!". &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She'll rhapsodize over pastries with other women, whisper with them conspiratatorally about the candy bars she can't resist, draw them deep into discussion about which ice cream flavor is her most favoritist, and then sit and drink water while everyone else is chowing down at the BR31.  Because, you know, she already ATE before she got there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THE MACHO&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Arguably this one is feminine only.  The macho eater reacts to the way women are "supposed to eat".  She's the one at the table with the salad eaters (no croutons, dressing on the side please!) that, when it comes her turn to order, can be heard saying, "I'll have a cheeseburger, fries and a coke, no, not a diet coke, I said a COKE... actually, could you make that a milkshake?".  It's important to her that she be set apart from the bird girls by her shocking consumption of calories. Yes, she's going to finish that, don't even bother asking - even if it's your first date.  Maybe she's working out like a fiend, maybe she's watching her calories in the privacy of her own home, or maybe she's eating like that at home too - but no matter what, in public it's always, "Yes, please bring us the dessert menu"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THE SHAMAN&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt; "You probably need to eat something," the baker said. "I hope you'll eat some of my hot rolls. You have to eat and keep going. Eating is a small, good thing in a time like this," he said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    He served them warm cinnamon rolls just out of the oven, the icing still runny. He put butter on the table and knives to spread the butter. Then the baker sat down at the table with them. He waited. He waited until they each took a roll from the platter and began to eat. "It's good to eat something," he said, watching them. "There's more. Eat up. Eat all you want. There's all the rolls in the world in here." -- Raymond Carver &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Eat this, It'll make you feel better." Food is medicine to be administered, it heals and helps and nurtures.  This is the cook who knows just what will ease the pain.   A hot meal, a quick snack, a batch of cookies.  Any time, day or night, the diner is always open, the doctor is always in.  We don't have to talk about it or deal with it.  Mangia.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More to come.  Stay Tuned.  Cause, er, yeah, we sit around tuning in web pages on our compoohtohrs.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/38916458-8390845606717492773?l=conversationswithfood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://conversationswithfood.blogspot.com/feeds/8390845606717492773/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=38916458&amp;postID=8390845606717492773' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/38916458/posts/default/8390845606717492773'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/38916458/posts/default/8390845606717492773'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conversationswithfood.blogspot.com/2007/04/tarot-deck-of-eating.html' title='The Tarot Deck of Eating'/><author><name>Oh. It's Kristen Again.  *sigh*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02059444551763120295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://static.flickr.com/60/156146710_e37733751d_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38916458.post-7896771461320862540</id><published>2007-04-21T10:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-21T10:27:41.184-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Truth</title><content type='html'>I'm not getting pancakes today, so I'm pretty angry&lt;span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;;"&gt;―&lt;/span&gt;especially since it's partially my fault.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/38916458-7896771461320862540?l=conversationswithfood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://conversationswithfood.blogspot.com/feeds/7896771461320862540/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=38916458&amp;postID=7896771461320862540' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/38916458/posts/default/7896771461320862540'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/38916458/posts/default/7896771461320862540'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conversationswithfood.blogspot.com/2007/04/truth.html' title='The Truth'/><author><name>hmrpita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02407432643853001915</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://farm1.static.flickr.com/231/444251517_14b68361ef_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38916458.post-9210473486386023133</id><published>2007-04-20T15:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-20T15:16:30.466-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Way It Is</title><content type='html'>Anything that resembles anything good for you does not belong in my cookies or in my pastry.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/38916458-9210473486386023133?l=conversationswithfood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://conversationswithfood.blogspot.com/feeds/9210473486386023133/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=38916458&amp;postID=9210473486386023133' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/38916458/posts/default/9210473486386023133'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/38916458/posts/default/9210473486386023133'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conversationswithfood.blogspot.com/2007/04/way-it-is.html' title='The Way It Is'/><author><name>hmrpita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02407432643853001915</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://farm1.static.flickr.com/231/444251517_14b68361ef_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38916458.post-2719020392900902774</id><published>2007-04-20T10:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-20T10:48:15.708-07:00</updated><title type='text'>One of the Many Things I Believe To Be True:</title><content type='html'>If those cookies didn't want to be eaten, then they would have yelled for help.  THAT is the reason why I was able to finish off the whole package.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/38916458-2719020392900902774?l=conversationswithfood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://conversationswithfood.blogspot.com/feeds/2719020392900902774/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=38916458&amp;postID=2719020392900902774' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/38916458/posts/default/2719020392900902774'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/38916458/posts/default/2719020392900902774'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conversationswithfood.blogspot.com/2007/04/one-of-many-things-i-believe-to-be-true.html' title='One of the Many Things I Believe To Be True:'/><author><name>Oh. It's Kristen Again.  *sigh*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02059444551763120295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://static.flickr.com/60/156146710_e37733751d_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38916458.post-1708514629600603280</id><published>2007-04-19T12:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-19T12:30:45.691-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The microorganisms, they love me</title><content type='html'>I keep doing this. Why do I do this? I spend money on groceries. I spend ungodly amounts of time in the produce aisle, selecting the most perfect pepper, the ripest tomato, the unblemished cauliflower.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I come home and put them in the crisper drawer and leave them there to rot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just cleaned out my fridge. Threw away a full baggie of bell peppers I actually took the time to slice up so they'd be ready for salads and fajitas. Orange, red, yellow, and green peppers. Gorgeous! Expensive! All that effort, and then I let them go moldy in the bag. Why?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also threw out:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;• a never-opened container of Trader Joe's roasted red pepper hummus, expiration date March 5th;&lt;br /&gt;• half a carton of lovely grape tomatoes;&lt;br /&gt;• oh, also some grapes;&lt;br /&gt;• a bunch of asparagus;&lt;br /&gt;• a package of bacon the color of asparagus;&lt;br /&gt;• some Swiss cheese, also green;&lt;br /&gt;• half a can of artichoke hearts I meant to put on a salad;&lt;br /&gt;• six beautiful Easter eggs (don't tell the kids); and&lt;br /&gt;• half a package of prosciutto—prosciutto, for God's sake!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am like the Lady Bountiful of landfills. What is wrong with me? I should just start throwing the money directly into the trash can and cut out the 40 degree middleman.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/38916458-1708514629600603280?l=conversationswithfood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://conversationswithfood.blogspot.com/feeds/1708514629600603280/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=38916458&amp;postID=1708514629600603280' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/38916458/posts/default/1708514629600603280'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/38916458/posts/default/1708514629600603280'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conversationswithfood.blogspot.com/2007/04/microorganisms-they-love-me.html' title='The microorganisms, they love me'/><author><name>Sassafrassa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01575104962271866287</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38916458.post-2784717122208848101</id><published>2007-04-18T21:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-18T21:58:47.885-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Chocolate Mocha Coffee</title><content type='html'>You know what?  I never noticed, and so It didn't used to bother me until hmrpita pointed out that it's redundant and moronic to call a mocha either a "chocolate mocha" or a "mocha coffee".  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DIDN'T USED TO.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;hmrpita: helping find things to piss you off since nineteen something or other.  I can't really remember when.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/38916458-2784717122208848101?l=conversationswithfood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://conversationswithfood.blogspot.com/feeds/2784717122208848101/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=38916458&amp;postID=2784717122208848101' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/38916458/posts/default/2784717122208848101'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/38916458/posts/default/2784717122208848101'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conversationswithfood.blogspot.com/2007/04/chocolate-mocha-coffee.html' title='Chocolate Mocha Coffee'/><author><name>Oh. It's Kristen Again.  *sigh*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02059444551763120295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://static.flickr.com/60/156146710_e37733751d_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38916458.post-5468077128967425433</id><published>2007-04-17T18:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-17T18:28:12.644-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I &lt;3 Kristen</title><content type='html'>MONKEY MINTS!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That is all.  Carry on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/38916458-5468077128967425433?l=conversationswithfood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://conversationswithfood.blogspot.com/feeds/5468077128967425433/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=38916458&amp;postID=5468077128967425433' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/38916458/posts/default/5468077128967425433'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/38916458/posts/default/5468077128967425433'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conversationswithfood.blogspot.com/2007/04/i-3-kristen.html' title='I &lt;3 Kristen'/><author><name>hmrpita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02407432643853001915</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://farm1.static.flickr.com/231/444251517_14b68361ef_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38916458.post-198626193011770117</id><published>2007-04-17T16:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-17T16:54:09.357-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Name is Lenore and I am a Vegetarian</title><content type='html'>I am very hungry, for some reason.  I have my suspicions about what that reason is, but that is neither here nor there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am going to have an early dinner.  This is the menu:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*drumroll please*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;TACOS&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rather than using meat, Tony makes the filling with garden burger, which works out swimmingly, believe it or not.  It also includes: zesty beans, onion, mexi-corn, red jalapeño peppers, and taco seasoning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, anyway, we have leftover filling just sitting there in the ice box, doing nothing.  Well, it actually IS doing something--it is taunting me.  I will show it who is in charge around here (me, that's who).   And I might SOUND rather crazy, but it is the hunger talking.  It is so blabby, that hunger.  Time to stuff its face and shut it up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S.  I like to heat up the taco shells in a little oven so they get warm and nicely crunchy--not hard.  So.  Good.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/38916458-198626193011770117?l=conversationswithfood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://conversationswithfood.blogspot.com/feeds/198626193011770117/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=38916458&amp;postID=198626193011770117' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/38916458/posts/default/198626193011770117'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/38916458/posts/default/198626193011770117'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conversationswithfood.blogspot.com/2007/04/my-name-is-lenore-and-i-am-vegetarian.html' title='My Name is Lenore and I am a Vegetarian'/><author><name>hmrpita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02407432643853001915</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://farm1.static.flickr.com/231/444251517_14b68361ef_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38916458.post-9019170892002527171</id><published>2007-04-17T09:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-17T11:05:05.316-07:00</updated><title type='text'>JAG part deux</title><content type='html'>Deep in the recesses of what I call a brain, I am always thinking of certain foods that I have had at local restaurants and plotting as to when I can have them again.  The current items for the Los Angeles area are as follows:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Blueberry Flaxseed Pancakes at Doughboys on Third Street.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously.  I am even willing to submit myself to the torture of going on a WEEKEND - which means waiting in the long line for a table, hoping that you don't get a table outside where the vultures waiting in the long line can judge you on how fast you eat your food and suffering through the moronic "morning after" conversations of tragically L.A. hip boys and girls in funky tees, trucker hats and NARC sunglasses or halter dresses with cowboy boots.  ALL WITH NO COFFEE IN ME.  I REPEAT. NO. COFFEE HAS BEEN ADMINISTERED, NOT EVEN FOR SAFETY'S SAKE, FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS HOLY.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt; The Portobello Mushroom and Vermont Cheddar Burger at Lucky Devil's on Hollywood Boulevard. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I pulled the waitress aside and said to her, "Look, I have had a LOT of burgers in my life, and this one is seriously one of the best burgers I have ever eaten."  She was nonplussed, gave a hint of a smile and said, "Yeah, we get that a lot."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt; The Apricot Pinwheel at Some Crust Bakery near Clairemont College in Pomona. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've &lt;a href='http://slateyourname.blogspot.com/2005/05/mc-donalds.html#links'&gt;said it before&lt;/a&gt; and will say it again.  I would like to fuck the shit out of this pastry.  Crowded House is playing in Pomona next week.  Who needs Durand-Durand and his excessive machine?  Not me.  Apparently, I'll always have Pomona.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt; Tagliata with Arugula at Piccolo &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The name is apropos.  There are only 10 tables in this restaurant, max.  I have never had any other entree.  I am stuck on this one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt; The grilled salmon caesar salad at Newsroom &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The problem with obtaining this item is that Newsroom Cafe is located on Robertson Boulevard just across from the Ivy and down the street from Kitson.  Which means that you are taking your life into your hands by patronizing the restaurant, since Lindsey Lohan and others of her ilk could "bang a fuckin' U-ee" at any moment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt; The Carol C. at Roscoe's Chicken &amp; Waffles &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Succulent chicken breast with a waffle.  Faster than Fast Food if you do take out.  Eat in with mac &amp; yak plus lemonade, bien sur.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt; "Lupe" Roll at California Roll and Sushi Factory &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Avocado roll topped with warm crabmeat, sauteed baby scallops, smelt eggs and eel sauce.  It's messy and wonderful.  Get your own, I can eat this whole thing.  And I will stab your hand with my chopsticks if you try and yoink a baby scallop from me. NO JOKE. GET YOUR OWN.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/38916458-9019170892002527171?l=conversationswithfood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://conversationswithfood.blogspot.com/feeds/9019170892002527171/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=38916458&amp;postID=9019170892002527171' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/38916458/posts/default/9019170892002527171'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/38916458/posts/default/9019170892002527171'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conversationswithfood.blogspot.com/2007/04/jag-part-deux.html' title='JAG part deux'/><author><name>Oh. It's Kristen Again.  *sigh*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02059444551763120295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://static.flickr.com/60/156146710_e37733751d_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38916458.post-3097210534044209720</id><published>2007-04-16T11:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-17T12:25:55.787-07:00</updated><title type='text'>JAG</title><content type='html'>Does anyone else do this? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I go on food jags, where I literally eat the same thing every day.  Sometimes more than once a day.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The jags have tiny story arcs within themselves, where I change up the ingredients a bit, due to availablity, and of course, all of the jags over time have a larger story arc that ties them all together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In this case the overall story arc of my eating has been about baby spinach.  I can't get enough of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the past 2 months I have gone on two of these jags.  They are as follows:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THE BABY SPINACH SALAD&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This salad is made up of Baby Spinach (as I bet you already guessed by the title, clever, clever reader), gorgonzola cheese, sliced green apples (with lemon juice if I am packing the salad to go and I don't want the apples to brown), candied pecans and grilled chicken.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The variations?  any kind of blue cheese is fine.  Sometimes I put in candied walnuts instead of pecans, and if there are nice anjou pears at the grocery store or farmer's market, then those'll do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THE QUESADILLA&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A multi-grain tortilla with shredded mexican blend cheese, black beans and of course, the ever present louisiana hot sauce.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's really just the foundation of the meal.  Most of the ingredients I make ahead of time to have on hand.  You've got to be &lt;em&gt;prepared&lt;/em&gt; for a jag.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The black beans I cook on Sunday using the magic spice packets from Goya that my mother taught me about long, long ago.  Goya is more of an east coast brand, but I  finally found a store that sells them here.  No more begging NY friends to send them to me! When I am making the beans, I also make a filling  where I sautee red onions and add frozen shrimp, and another magic Goya spice packet.  Last week I had Portobello mushrooms, and so I used those instead of shrimp for the filling.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I have a pork loin in the freezer, I will slow cook it until the meat just falls apart, and keep the pulled pork on hand to add as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After I put all of the ingredients on the tortilla, I keep it spinning on the pan so it doesn't burn, and top everything off with leaves of baby spinach.  They serve as a lid, keeping the heat in, and when I finally fold the tortilla in two, add a crunch to the whole thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then of course, sour cream.  Last week I accidently bought low fat instead of regular.  Ew.  I'll suffer through, don't worry about me.  If I don't have sour cream, I add goat cheese.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God, now I'm hungry.  What should I have for lunch...  AHAHAHAHAAHAHAA! So funny, me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/38916458-3097210534044209720?l=conversationswithfood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://conversationswithfood.blogspot.com/feeds/3097210534044209720/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=38916458&amp;postID=3097210534044209720' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/38916458/posts/default/3097210534044209720'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/38916458/posts/default/3097210534044209720'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conversationswithfood.blogspot.com/2007/04/jag.html' title='JAG'/><author><name>Oh. It's Kristen Again.  *sigh*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02059444551763120295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='32' src='http://static.flickr.com/60/156146710_e37733751d_o.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38916458.post-117650300738040164</id><published>2007-04-13T15:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-13T15:23:27.386-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Explanation Haiku</title><content type='html'>Here's some food for thought&lt;br /&gt;Stories about all we eat&lt;br /&gt;Are fascinating&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/38916458-117650300738040164?l=conversationswithfood.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://conversationswithfood.blogspot.com/feeds/117650300738040164/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=38916458&amp;postID=117650300738040164' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/38916458/posts/default/117650300738040164'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/38916458/posts/default/117650300738040164'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://conversationswithfood.blogspot.com/2007/04/explanation-haiku.html' title='Explanation Haiku'/><author><name>hmrpita</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02407432643853001915</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://farm1.static.flickr.com/231/444251517_14b68361ef_t.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
