Office-Mock-Bruschetta

I am wearing a new-ish white shirt that I bought for $9 over the weekend. I love it…and I just sprayed balsamic vinegar along the front.

This morning I packed my lunch in a hurry. I tore off a hunk of wheat Italian baguette. I threw a whole Roma tomato in a plastic baggie along with a sprig of five basil leaves. I then poured some balsamic vinegar and some olive oil in a dressing container, shoved them all in a lunch bag and ran out the door.

I’ve been hungry all day so I decided to make some tomato basil salad and I intended to use my bread to scoop up my lentil soup at lunch. Can you see where this is heading? If you can’t, I am worried.

In my company kitchen I found a long, sword-like knife (why they have one like that I don’t know…and why they would allow someone like me to use it is an even better question) to cut up my tomatoes. I grabbed the piece of bread, sliced it in half and tossed it in the toaster. In a coffee mug, I threw the squared tomatoes and drizzled the olive oil and balsamic, stirring until they were all well mixed. When my bread was done I wrapped it up in paper towel and along with my mug of tomato-olive oil-balsamic vinegar, sauntered to my desk in hopes to make my coworkers drool. Out of the plastic baggie I took the basil, and with a pair of (don’t freak out Mom!) desk scissors, snipped the leaves until I had a small pile of basil strips atop my tomato mix. I pulled out some salt in a packet and then asked a coworker to borrow his pepper shaker (we love food here, how cute is that?). When it was well-mixed, I scattered my tomato basil “salad” generously over my bread. I stopped to admire it for a brief second and took a large chomp, causing piled tomatoes to tumble down onto my desk and my new-ish $9 white shirt.

I don’t care about my shirt.

It’s just too good.

Cha-cha's Not-So-Yummy White Chicken Chili

So, lately I've had a new craving. I love me some Taco Time. Okay, I love anything of the taco variety. But my love for this fast food chain increased when I tried their White Chicken Chili.

You see, I used to be all about the mexi-nuggets. Then I figured out that those babies amount to a whole lot of calories and fat that could be much better used towards things like Reduced Fat Chips Ahoy cookies. I could have 9 cookies for the same amount of fat and calories as these itty-bitty fried potato balls. 9 cookies! Even I have my priorities.

Anyways, back to Taco Time, I decided that I can't just have a taco. I wanted something to go with it. So I ventured out of my box and went for the chili. That stuff was so good I seriously contemplated eating the bowl just because I knew there was other chili bits just waiting for me in the crevices. Don't worry, I restrained. Sorta.

After this taste of heaven, I was constantly left wanting more. I figured I am a pretty good cook. I can make a mean chocolate devils food cake (okay, so that's baking but still...). There had to be a recipe out there for this concoction of White Chicken Chili. I had to find that recipe.

So I set off to allrecipes.com. I searched, I checked how many stars, I looked at the pictures, I will even admit to reading the reviews. Finally, I struck gold. The picture looked just like what they have at Taco Time. This HAD to be it. I was so excited, I even PLANNED AHEAD.

I decided that since I had to have this chili NOW, I would make it the night before, let it simmer in the crockpot, and then enjoy it for lunch. I had visions of sharing with my peeps all the greatness of the chili. Then I woke up.

The gold was tarnished. Or I went to the wrong gold mine. Something was desperately wrong with my chili. My house did not emit yummy-I-am-going-to-have-the-best-lunch-ever vibes. My house smelled like something awful. I think it could have been dirty feet. But there was no dirty feet in the house, just my chili. But who am to judge based on smell alone? I mean, some of the best foods smell awful right? Right? I know, I am kidding myself. But I tried it anyway.

That was a mistake. The taste in my mouth could also have been dirty feet. Or peas. It was that bad. So, although I have no yummy white chicken chili, I have learned a few things from this little adventure:

1. Stick to Taco Time. It will never be the same.
2. Cha Cha lies. She does not make delicious chili. Someone was just trying not to hurt her feelings. That someone is not me. She owes me for making my house smell. I am sending her the cleaning bill.
3. If it smells bad, it is so gonna taste worst. DON'T EAT IT.

Now, does anyone want any chili/feet soup? There is plenty for the whole class...

Persian Kebabs

1. Eight years ago I had a restaurant experience that to this day, has rivaled every other amazing restuarant experience I have been part of. My freshman dormroom neighbor invited five other dorm-mates and me to drive up to downtown Seattle and for a four-course Persian meal complete with belly dancers.
   
   I'm talking a table full of feta cheese, bright red tomatoes, fresh, aromatic basil, warm pita triangles, baba ganough, mint salad, skewered beef tenderloin massaged and marinated with lemon and onion, delicate basmati rice with a touch of butter and saffron and as a finale, sweet cream ice cream made with rosewater, topped with crumbled pistachio.
   
   Oh my...wow. I'm salivating.
   
   Since that occasion, I have been back to the restaurant several times and can count on a Persian craving haunting me at least once a month.
   
   I had just one of those last Friday and it became one of those moments that I began cursing at myself to decide to do Weight Watchers because HOW ON EARTH WILL I EVER LIVE IF I CANNOT EAT LIKE A PERSIAN PRINCESS?
   
   Ah! This is why God gave us the internet...you know, emergencies like these. And so I found a recipe for Persian Kebabs on Recipe Source.
   
   6 servings
   2 lb. lamb, cut in 1-inch cubes
   2 cloves garlic, crushed
   1/2 c. salad oil
   1 tsp. salt
   1/2 tsp. pepper, fresh
   6 bay leaves
   1/4 c. lemon juice
   4 small tomatoes, halved
   2 green pepper, cubed
   2 small egplants, cubed
   
   Marinade:
   Combine oil, lemon juice, garlic, salt, pepper and bay leaves. Marinate meat cubes for 4 to 5 hours in refrigerator.
   
   Kebabs:
   Thread meat, vegetables, and bay leaves on skewers. Brush with marinade. Broil 3 minutes on each side, or barbecue 5 minutes on each side. Serve immediately.
   
   And so I did, with some exceptions. I chose chicken instead of lamb. It's healthier and lighter, and I also sliced up an entire onion and added it to the marinade for some additional sass. After I marinated the meat for about an hour, I threaded it on some skewers I had soaked in water and Liquid Smoke. Along with the cubed chicken, I put chunks of eggplant, green and red peppers and onion slices.
   
   I set them in the middle of the grill and placed quartered tomatoes along the edges of the grill where there was less heat to char them.
   
   I found that the kebabs required more than the five minutes the recipe recommended for the lamb pieces, I'm not sure if it was because my cubes were bigger than they should have been or if it was because chicken cooks slower than lamb. Either way, my kebabs came out of the grill...a little black. Actually, I lie. They were dried out and just plain burned.
   
   I sat down with my family to taste my embarrassing creation and I believe I pouted through the entire meal, disappointed that I had charred any nutritional value out of the vegetables, and more importantly, they weren't very pretty being all wilty and sad.
   
   After picking it all apart, I now know what I'll do to fix my meal in the future. The chicken, although slightly blackened tasted zesty and salty, just as I liked. Next time though, I'll make kebabs of only chicken, leaving enough time for them to come out cooked through but juicy. And from there, I'll serve it like they do in my favorite restuarant, next a pile of basmati rice with butter and saffron, basil leaves, lemon wedges and sliced onions.
   
   Veggies, Schmeggies. I'll find a way to fit that in later.

Spicy Thai Shrimp with Mint Raita

Having spent the majority of my day snacking on ice water and Wasa crackers, which, in my opinion taste very similar to drywall, I came home wanting something to give my tastebuds a little jolt. In my fridge I found the fixins' for a little recipe I found in Self Dishes, a magazine I had discovered at my local grogery store boasting "light and easy" recipes as well as brightly colored photos, many of which make me want to lick the pages they're on. Tonight's menu consisted of steamed spinach and Spicy Thai Shrimp with Mint Raita over brown rice.

Protein from shrimp and calcium from yogurt? Score!

makes 4 servings, 3 points a serving
Raita
1 c. nonfat plain yogurt
1/4 c. peeled, seeded and diced cucumber
1/4 c. thinly sliced green onions
1/4 c. mint leaves, minced
2 tsp. lemon zest

Shrimp
2 tsp. olive oil
2 tsp. sesame oil
2 tsp. minced fresh ginger
1 tsp. garlic
24 fresh, large shrimp, peeled and deveined
1/4 c. Thai red chili paste
Juice of two lemons
2 tbsp. snipped fresh chives

I chopped, mixed, sauteed and garnished as the directions told me to...and 20 minutes later, dinner was ready.

I salivated over my steaming plate of six shrimp, rice, raita and spinach. I grabbed a forkful of shrimp and topped it with the mint raita, impatiently shoving it in my mouth...and that's when it happened...I nearly seared my tastebuds right off!

Thai chili is hot, um, yes. I learned that tonight. No amount of creamy raita or forkfuls of brown rice helped soothe the radiating heat coming off my poor tongue. It left me completely unable to savor or evaluate my opinion of the garlic and ginger that had coated my shrimp. To top it off, I found that the more raita I ate, the more I disliked it. To me, mint is for mojitos being sipped in the sunshine outside of my favorite restaurant, famed for their Latin fare, not to be paired with green onions and stirred into yogurt. It left me underwhelmed.

Perhaps less chili would have enticed me a little more than this dish did but in the end, I'd still give it an "eh" on the 'ol KC scale.

The remainder of my dinner wound up in my garbage disposal, to say the least. Eight of my points down the drain. Literally.