This post is about food. Not really about recipes, but about my insanity as it’s related to food. It has nothing to do with my kids. So if you’re only reading this blog because you want to feel better about yourself as a parent and you do so by comparing yourself to me and my horrific parenting choices, then you probably don’t want to read this today.
However, if you are moderately insane and want to feel better about yourself and you do so by comparing yourself to people who are more insane than you, read on.
1. Did you happen to see that The Pioneer Woman was featured in Parade Magazine in last Sunday’s paper? She was on the page where they feature a recipe that someone famous makes. She provided her recipe for chicken parmesan.
Want to know her special ingredient?
Three cans of crushed tomatoes.
I swear that woman is trying to give me botulism.
You can go to her website and get the recipe if you want, but you’ll have to look at 51 pictures (I counted) of her pounding raw chicken and opening her cans of botulism and adding salt to flour because evidently we’re all idiots and don’t know what it means when a recipe says “add 1/2 teaspoon of salt to flour mixture.”
Obviously, I still have an issue with The Pioneer Woman. I’m working on my anger, but it takes a while for the alcohol to mellow me out in the morning.
2. Speaking of The Pioneer Woman, a Facebook friend insisted that her salsa recipe was to die for. Seeing as how The Pioneer Woman is a big can whore, you know there are going to be craploads of cans in this recipe. Which is probably where the “to die for” comes in. Anyway, in an effort to overcome my alumicanibotulisiphobia, I decided to make the salsa. I had high hopes that it would suck and my hatred of all things Pioneer Woman would be further justified.
So I went to the store and purchased new, very undented cans and came home and made the salsa. It was actually okay. And the fact that I didn’t die from it was a plus.
Aside: I wish I had a cupbearer. Just in case you’re like me and you thought that a cupbearer was just “ye olde busty serving wench” that handed the king his cup of mead, I’m going to tell you what a cupbearer is. (I might be getting kings and Vikings confused.) In ye olden days, a king would have a cupbearer whose job it was to pour the king’s drinks because apparently everyone was trying to poison the king. And sometimes the cupbearer would have to drink some of the king’s drink to make sure it wasn’t lethal.
Anyway, I could use one of those. Any volunteers? You’ll just be required to sip a bit from each can I open and then wait a day to see if the botulism kicks in. I sometimes use my husband for this purpose, but he actually doesn’t know I do it. I’ll make something with a can, and I won’t eat any and won’t serve any to our kids, and if he doesn’t go blind and have trouble swallowing within the next 24 hours, I figure it’s safe to eat. I’m kind of sick.
Back to my story. So after making The Pioneer Woman’s salsa, I decided to make my homemade, fresh salsa that uses no cans, and I want to show you a picture of it because it’s better than The Pioneer Woman’s and it won’t give you botulism.
Looks delicious, right? Well, that’s because I Photoshopped the hell out of it. Just like The Pioneer Woman does. Here’s what it really looks like.
And that, my friends, is why you cannot trust anything that’s on The Pioneer Woman’s web site. I bet her dog isn’t even real. He’s probably a stuffed animal and she just poses him around the farm doing randomly cute things and then Photoshops him to make him look real. She also probably Photoshops the chaps onto Marlboro Man’s ass.
3. I’ve mentioned my issues with food safety, but I haven’t yet mentioned that I’m pretty well convinced that most of the food in the grocery store is being poisoned by evil people who carry hypodermic needles full of cyanide. If I’m buying sour cream, I have to remove the lid and make sure the foil seal is virginal, without blemish, otherwise I’m pretty darn sure that someone has injected some cyanide into it. I also have to check seals on milk, yogurt, peanut butter and anything with a lid.
However, I’ve always been relatively lax with fruit. In theory, I guess someone could easily inject an apple with cyanide, but I haven’t really checked my fruit before. Then I went and bought bananas this week.
They look fine, right?
Well, then I lifted up the top bananas and saw this:
Do you think someone injected poison into them? Regardless, I won’t eat them and won’t let the kids eat them. Virginia Slims Man eats things that have been in the fridge for a week and have grown slime, so he can eat them if he wants.
Either way, I now have to make a note to check my bananas for signs of contamination in the future.
4. Lastly, here is a picture of my boys eating dinner last night.
They’re eating Lucky Charms and watching T.V. My husband played golf for 7 hours yesterday and I couldn’t sleep the night before (long story that you’ll hear about later in the week), so I was pretty much exhausted all day and didn’t feel like making dinner. I took the boys to the store with me and told them they could pick out a cereal. They picked Lucky Charms. They ate bowls of sugar, watched T.V. and crept ever so slightly closer to an obese and diabetic future.
Well, look at that. I didn’t think this post was going to have anything to do with me being a sucky mom, but I pulled it out in the end.
Feel better about yourself now?