Yesterday I had a truly spectacular nosh just after noon. We were at my parents' house and after a truly challenging night of sleep deprivation followed by serious snuggly snooze, I was wakened so sweetly by a certain someone from my single-bed slumber.
Upon arising, I was struck with a familiar urge to get crazy. I cooked myself two basted eggs, pan-fried yam discs, chopped green onion and buttered swiss chard, slathered a chunk of bannock with my home-made cilantro hummus and got down on that morning meal in the early afternoon. Deeeelicious!!
Monday, July 27, 2009
Friday, July 17, 2009
chickpeas, cilantro, lettuce and chili powder
A bowl full of chickpeas, cilantro, lettuce and chili powder was my breakfast this morning. A whole lotta roughage assembled by my sweet lover...tasty as fuck, but I could have choked it down a whole lot faster and with slightly more enjoyment had I any lemon juice and flax or olive oil to drizzle. The chickpeas were frickin' delicious, soaked for a day and a night and then cooked to tenderness while I was making supper yesterday evening. Plain as fuck and they're holy hella good. Good for you too. And of course the organic cilantro and head lettuce obtained from the crop share. Lovin' the food sharing orgy...
Thursday, July 16, 2009
red river
I am so...blessed to be with the person I find myself loving right now. I don't know any other way to describe it but "blessed", which is not a word I use often.
Let's linger over the breakfast I had this morning, since I wasn't able to linger over it in real time. Such a beautiful person across from me as I snarfed re-heated red river cereal sprinkled with brown sugar, just a little more gussied up with stale raisins...
How fucking cool is it that someone listens to me when I speak, thinks about the things I have to say and then helps me come up with a plan? I don't think I've ever been so well-supported...my mother definitely comes to mind when I say that, but her form of support has always been more in the way of getting me do it by myself...nothing like running to mummy when I have troubles eating breakfast in the morning...she raised me to be super-independent and for that I'm grateful, but I have the shortfalls as do we all...she was actually the person who did not force me into the morning meal, believing (correctly) that I could make my own choices about food.
Unfortunately, my decision-making in the breakfast regard has not evolved much since I was nine years old and I find myself often loath to wake up at a reasonable time to get the early sustenance.
Yes, life is good when there's a partner available to help with the responsible decision-making shenanigans...
Let's linger over the breakfast I had this morning, since I wasn't able to linger over it in real time. Such a beautiful person across from me as I snarfed re-heated red river cereal sprinkled with brown sugar, just a little more gussied up with stale raisins...
How fucking cool is it that someone listens to me when I speak, thinks about the things I have to say and then helps me come up with a plan? I don't think I've ever been so well-supported...my mother definitely comes to mind when I say that, but her form of support has always been more in the way of getting me do it by myself...nothing like running to mummy when I have troubles eating breakfast in the morning...she raised me to be super-independent and for that I'm grateful, but I have the shortfalls as do we all...she was actually the person who did not force me into the morning meal, believing (correctly) that I could make my own choices about food.
Unfortunately, my decision-making in the breakfast regard has not evolved much since I was nine years old and I find myself often loath to wake up at a reasonable time to get the early sustenance.
Yes, life is good when there's a partner available to help with the responsible decision-making shenanigans...
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
ghetto picnic breakfast
I had severe fear this morning and so stayed in bed with my lover until about 11:30am when I realized I had lunch plans with my dj friend. !!! I phoned her with toothbrush in my mouth and re-directed her to Corydon Village where she picked me up within 15 minutes of my call.
I wore my favourite long-sleeve blue shirt with the only pair of black slacks that fit me properly. (Though they're still fastened with the safety pin - first time I wore them in June of 2008 the clasp broke and I've never bothered with needle and thread. Do you see why I get the fear?) Of course, this outfit is incomplete without my pinwheel silk neckerchief which I wore closely tied to my throat to hopefully help me with bravery...
It turned out that instead of the chips and pop promised yesterday by my lunch companion, she brought leftovers from her bf's untimely excursion to Affinity of the night before...so we munched cold chili soya strips, kung pao gluten and tofu chow mein still in their takeout containers.
om nom nom breakfast at drizzly Bruce Park in Winnipeg. I love grey weather on green foliage.
I wore my favourite long-sleeve blue shirt with the only pair of black slacks that fit me properly. (Though they're still fastened with the safety pin - first time I wore them in June of 2008 the clasp broke and I've never bothered with needle and thread. Do you see why I get the fear?) Of course, this outfit is incomplete without my pinwheel silk neckerchief which I wore closely tied to my throat to hopefully help me with bravery...
It turned out that instead of the chips and pop promised yesterday by my lunch companion, she brought leftovers from her bf's untimely excursion to Affinity of the night before...so we munched cold chili soya strips, kung pao gluten and tofu chow mein still in their takeout containers.
om nom nom breakfast at drizzly Bruce Park in Winnipeg. I love grey weather on green foliage.
Monday, June 29, 2009
back at the old job
I've been back at the old job for probably exactly two months now - couldn't hack the shit at MB so I ditched and came back to good ol' CGK. Nothing much has changed here - still shitty at showing up every day and/or on time, still shaking with rage when the crap typewriter will only return with my impatient assistance, still bristling with outrage when one of the pigs I work with pees on the toilet seat.
The breakfast thing ain't happening, either; I sort of shacked up temporarily with the new gf, so breakfasts are usually pathetically haphazard and/or just don't happen. I'm moving on Wednesday and have resolved to get back into the baked beans and bannock habit, as well as miso soup breakfasts, once I've started sleeping at the new homestead... Wish me luck.
The breakfast thing ain't happening, either; I sort of shacked up temporarily with the new gf, so breakfasts are usually pathetically haphazard and/or just don't happen. I'm moving on Wednesday and have resolved to get back into the baked beans and bannock habit, as well as miso soup breakfasts, once I've started sleeping at the new homestead... Wish me luck.
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
new job - not good for breakfasts
Strange, but starting a new job is not conducive to maintaining old, second-nature routines, let alone barely-established routines like my breakfast-eating regime.
I've managed to eat something each day for breakfast these past two months, but I'm not finding any of it satisfying at all, not the way I used to enjoy these morning meals. Maybe the novelty's worn off, but somehow I doubt it. It's just not the same here at the stupidest workplace ever, in any respect and especially respecting breakfast.
I am exaggerating here, but fuck, this place really sucks. I've become accustomed to a whole other world, a non-unionized world, in which breakfast on the job was a sneaky luxury and an unexpected privilege afforded to me only because I was a barracuda working for a barracuda. Here, breakfast is an empty coping mechanism. I can either eat breakfast while working on the two things I have to do all day and then have NOTHING to do all day after breakfast, or eat breakfast and do nothing but eat breakfast, then do the two things I need to do and then have nothing to do. Not much of a difference there, is there? No stolen bites in between urgent phone calls. No sly nibbles during dictation. No mouth stuffed full during filing duties. I miss my old life at the law firm, I have to say. This is a sorry excuse for a career.
In an attempt to rekindle my interest in the novelty that is breakfast-dining, I've tried a new recipe for baked beans. Post Punk Kitchen directed me to it. The recipe calls for nutritional yeast and liquid smoke. I was quite excited about it, but having made it and allowed half a pot to mold in the fridge this past week, it's not what I'd call earth-shatteringly delicious, not irresistible the way my other beans are. There's all sorts of exciting ingredients in these "punk beans", totally going beyond my usual simple but thrilling trinity of caramelized onions, green pepper and tomatoes posed against the beans bathed molasses, vinegar and chili powder. I have to say, simplicity kicks nooch, smoke and dry mustard's asses when it comes to baked beans.
Although, at about the same time as the punk beans disappointment, I allowed a gorgeous pumpkin scone to go stale on the kitchen table, not because it wasn't delicious, simply because I've lost my breakfast mojo. This is how disinterested in breakfast I've become. I've found that any kind of dough can usually serve as a sure attractant for the morning meal; I can't generally resist toast of any kind, bannock is a serious temptation, and since I first made it I thought this pumpkin scone could become a new problem for me, a real vice. Not so. The stale evidence is languishing in the freezer. I didn't have the heart to throw it away just yet.
I've been subsisting on an admittedly delicious morning diet of fruits: bananas, grapefruits and Ateulf mangoes. While I find it tedious to chop and peel and chew these fibre-rich, vitamin-laden natural "fast foods", I have to say they've saved my ass and my blood sugar for the past week or two.
To end this more positively, one thing I do love about the morning now is the barley coffee I've discovered. I don't know if I've mentioned this before, but I've pretty much dropped the caffeine habit. I'm no longer dependent on a daily cup of coffee. Now I drink a roasted grains beverage with Silk creamer, the taste of which is not unlike instant coffee, though it's caffeine-free and not riddled with obscure chemicals. I first discovered barley coffee in the form of an expired jar of the Oskri brand, lurking behind some more popular products at Organic Planet. I bought it in curiosity and did not experiment with it until very recently, when I realized I was almost desperate enough with this new employment to fall into the old familiar pits of manageable addiction: coffee, weed and cigarettes. I knew morning coffee would be my gateway to post-work hoots and all-day cigarettes and so I dug my fingernails in, recommitted to my new clean and clear lifestyle and mixed myself a cup of Caf-Lib and Silk. Lo!! I've gone through three jars in two months and I'm eagerly gulping my way through a fourth jar, no stopping me now! There is a definite psychological need in me, a very real craving for the comfort that comes with the clutching of a beaker of hot, dark, creamy beverage. While often fooling me chemically, mateine-containing Yerba Mate does not meet the requirements of my morning psyche. Barley Coffee, all the way.
I have a new batch of beans soaking and waiting for preparation tonight. I'm going to try to make these motherfuckers so good my toes will curl when I eat them. I'm also going to have to look into diversifying: I've got a lot of breakfast food recipes I've never tried. I suppose this is the time to do some experimenting. Also need to just wake up earlier and enjoy breakfast at home. As painful as it will probably turn out to be to be: sit down and relax into the meal in my beautiful kitchen, the radio tuned to my satisfaction, the spring light sinking into me as I dine, only to have to tear myself away from such perfection in order to attend at this shithole version of a job. Hopefully by the time I've started enjoying breakfast again, I'll be starting a better job at a fantastic location.
I've managed to eat something each day for breakfast these past two months, but I'm not finding any of it satisfying at all, not the way I used to enjoy these morning meals. Maybe the novelty's worn off, but somehow I doubt it. It's just not the same here at the stupidest workplace ever, in any respect and especially respecting breakfast.
I am exaggerating here, but fuck, this place really sucks. I've become accustomed to a whole other world, a non-unionized world, in which breakfast on the job was a sneaky luxury and an unexpected privilege afforded to me only because I was a barracuda working for a barracuda. Here, breakfast is an empty coping mechanism. I can either eat breakfast while working on the two things I have to do all day and then have NOTHING to do all day after breakfast, or eat breakfast and do nothing but eat breakfast, then do the two things I need to do and then have nothing to do. Not much of a difference there, is there? No stolen bites in between urgent phone calls. No sly nibbles during dictation. No mouth stuffed full during filing duties. I miss my old life at the law firm, I have to say. This is a sorry excuse for a career.
In an attempt to rekindle my interest in the novelty that is breakfast-dining, I've tried a new recipe for baked beans. Post Punk Kitchen directed me to it. The recipe calls for nutritional yeast and liquid smoke. I was quite excited about it, but having made it and allowed half a pot to mold in the fridge this past week, it's not what I'd call earth-shatteringly delicious, not irresistible the way my other beans are. There's all sorts of exciting ingredients in these "punk beans", totally going beyond my usual simple but thrilling trinity of caramelized onions, green pepper and tomatoes posed against the beans bathed molasses, vinegar and chili powder. I have to say, simplicity kicks nooch, smoke and dry mustard's asses when it comes to baked beans.
Although, at about the same time as the punk beans disappointment, I allowed a gorgeous pumpkin scone to go stale on the kitchen table, not because it wasn't delicious, simply because I've lost my breakfast mojo. This is how disinterested in breakfast I've become. I've found that any kind of dough can usually serve as a sure attractant for the morning meal; I can't generally resist toast of any kind, bannock is a serious temptation, and since I first made it I thought this pumpkin scone could become a new problem for me, a real vice. Not so. The stale evidence is languishing in the freezer. I didn't have the heart to throw it away just yet.
I've been subsisting on an admittedly delicious morning diet of fruits: bananas, grapefruits and Ateulf mangoes. While I find it tedious to chop and peel and chew these fibre-rich, vitamin-laden natural "fast foods", I have to say they've saved my ass and my blood sugar for the past week or two.
To end this more positively, one thing I do love about the morning now is the barley coffee I've discovered. I don't know if I've mentioned this before, but I've pretty much dropped the caffeine habit. I'm no longer dependent on a daily cup of coffee. Now I drink a roasted grains beverage with Silk creamer, the taste of which is not unlike instant coffee, though it's caffeine-free and not riddled with obscure chemicals. I first discovered barley coffee in the form of an expired jar of the Oskri brand, lurking behind some more popular products at Organic Planet. I bought it in curiosity and did not experiment with it until very recently, when I realized I was almost desperate enough with this new employment to fall into the old familiar pits of manageable addiction: coffee, weed and cigarettes. I knew morning coffee would be my gateway to post-work hoots and all-day cigarettes and so I dug my fingernails in, recommitted to my new clean and clear lifestyle and mixed myself a cup of Caf-Lib and Silk. Lo!! I've gone through three jars in two months and I'm eagerly gulping my way through a fourth jar, no stopping me now! There is a definite psychological need in me, a very real craving for the comfort that comes with the clutching of a beaker of hot, dark, creamy beverage. While often fooling me chemically, mateine-containing Yerba Mate does not meet the requirements of my morning psyche. Barley Coffee, all the way.
I have a new batch of beans soaking and waiting for preparation tonight. I'm going to try to make these motherfuckers so good my toes will curl when I eat them. I'm also going to have to look into diversifying: I've got a lot of breakfast food recipes I've never tried. I suppose this is the time to do some experimenting. Also need to just wake up earlier and enjoy breakfast at home. As painful as it will probably turn out to be to be: sit down and relax into the meal in my beautiful kitchen, the radio tuned to my satisfaction, the spring light sinking into me as I dine, only to have to tear myself away from such perfection in order to attend at this shithole version of a job. Hopefully by the time I've started enjoying breakfast again, I'll be starting a better job at a fantastic location.
Monday, February 16, 2009
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