Sometimes you look at what the future holds, and you think, “What can I make without using my brain at all?” Here is what we had for supper this week:
BLTs, root beer floats
Birthday! Kiddo requested this meal; she’ll have a party later. Meanwhile, we increased our stilt ownership by 100%.
Never thought I’d be buying special, patterned duct tape to help us tell all our stilts apart, but here we are.
Made by Mr. Husband. I forgot my shopping list, and so bought ingredients for pizzas, tacos, and quesadillas, but I forgot cheese. Toldja I had no plans to use my brain.
Tacos, guacamole, tortilla chips
I had a cheap attack in the middle of the supermarket, and decided to cut the ground beef with some ground turkey that was on sale. I also balked at Hass avocados @ $1.29, and instead chose the somewhat thriftier travesty known as Florida avocados, a vegetable entity which sometimes compounds the offense by introducing itself as a “SlimCado.”
in the United Kingdom, the term “avocado pear” is still used as applied when avocados first became commonly available in the 1960s. It is known as “butter fruit” in parts of India and goes by the name “bơ” [ɓɘː] in Vietnamese, which is the same word that is used for butter. In eastern China, it is known as è lí (“alligator pear”) or huángyóu guǒ (“butter fruit”). In Taiwan, it is known asluò lí or “cheese pear”.
You see? We do have options, preserving at least our dignity and integrity. And yet here we are, consenting to vote for something called a “SlimCado.” If you were watching CNN last night and wondering, “How did it come to this?” — well, this is how. One SlimCado at a time. Concession and compromise after concession and compromise. Things fall apart; the center cannot hold because it is all withered and false, not like a real avocado pit at all; but they’re counting on people thinking, “But this is an emergency! I have no choice! I better just buy this, this thing here, because it says it’s an avocado . . . ”
I bought two SlimCados, and I’ll probably do it again, if they’re on sale. I am what’s wrong with America today.
So, the guac was the wrong shade of green and gravely inferior in texture and depth of flavor, and the taco meat kind of balled up, but we ate it.
It was also on Monday that I sent the following email:
Cleverly, I sent it not to my husband, but to the Special Projects Director at the Office of the Bishop in Colorado Springs, where I am going in a few weeks to speak to a local Legatus chapter. I blame the treacherous SlimCado. This is what happens when you’re alligator cheese-deficient in the brain pan.
Hamburgers, pasta salad, broccoli and carrots with dip
NTR. But the pasta salad included basil that came from my very own terrible garden!
Not the broccoli, though. I tried growing broccoli once, and got some gorgeous, water-hogging foliage with a little ornamental broccofluff on top.
Hammy Sammies, Cheezy Weezies
Yummy little recipe: You buy a package of little rolls and cut the tops off without even separating the rolls from each other. Lay ham and Swiss cheese on, and put the tops back on. Cover them with a sauce made of melted butter, worcestershire sauce, mustard, and poppy seeds. Let it sit for a while, then throw them in the oven.
Here’s the other thing you need to know about me: This is not the first time I’ve gotten this message from my computer:
Yep, I’ve spent most of my adult years downloading photos called “ham and cheese.” I am what’s wrong with etc. etc.
La Brea Tar Pit Chicken, Cole Slaw, Grits, Peaches
An actual new recipe, actually, suggested by several Facebook pals when I put out a call for help re: boring drumsticks. You mix up soy sauce, red wine, sugar, and ginger, heat until the sugar is dissolved, and pour the sauce over the chicken. Cook for a while, turn it over, cook it some more, and it turns out looking like La Brea Tar Pit Chicken.
This doesn’t have anything to do with the post. I just added it to remind you all why you read Aleteia.
Quesadillas, brown rice, frozen corn
What, because Hillary’s so much better, I guess?
Oh, sorry, I thought we’re just supposed to say that every few minutes now. As you were, AmeriCaCado.