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Taco Rice Bowls of Deliciousness

Okay. I was totally going to share this recipe with you a couple of days ago, but I got side-tracked by a music man in a coffee shop.

Then I was going to share it yesterday, but I painted the inside of a closet instead.

Huh?

Let me explain.

I opened the hallway closet to put something away, and this is what I saw:

In fact, that is what I’ve seen every time I’ve opened the closet since we bought the house in 2007.  It’s where we put things when we want to forget they ever existed.  I realize the trash can would make much more sense, but logic isn’t always my strong suit.

So, I did what any normal, energy-riddled woman sitting at home on a Tuesday morning would do.  I dumped everything out of it, ripped out the wire shelving, puttied the holes, and painted the dirty, scratched-up drywall with leftover paint from the office.

I may or may not have broken all of the screw anchors when I pulled them from the wall, but no worries.  They’re easily replaceable.  Not that I’m going to replace that crappy wire shelf, which means I need to make a run to Home Depot.  Hopefully I’ll have a (highly anticipated, I’m sure) closet “after” photo for you by next week.

So why am I here again?  Oh, yes.  I’m sharing a recipe.

I’m really kind of excited about this one, and here’s why:  It’s not fancy, refined, or sophisticated.  Not in the slightest.  But remember how I told you I like to experiment with different world flavors when I cook?  Well this dish is actually a super simple mix of Hispanic, Asian, and Indian flavors.  Sound crazy?  I thought so, too.  I thought this would be a complete mess when it was done.

But it wasn’t.  It was so, so delicious.  It’s good ol’ comfort food at its finest, and it’s easily adjustable to fit the tastes of you or the people you’re trying to feed.  These things have mass appeal, so you’ll definitely want to keep this recipe.

(I’m telling you – if you can’t please ’em with this, it might just make more sense to keep the recipe and find new people to cook for.)

The original recipe is called Okinawan Takoraisu (from the Japanese island of Okinawa), but I just like to call them Taco Rice Bowls of Deliciousness.

To make them, you will need:

  • 1 Tablespoon vegetable oil
  • 3 cloves garlic, minced
  • 1 Onion, chopped
  • 1 pound ground beef (Next time I make these – and there will be a next time – I might try substituting ground turkey to make them a bit healthier.)
  • 3 Tablespoons soy sauce
  • 1 Tablespoon chili powder (If you’re super sensitive to spicy stuff, you could cut this back a little.  I thought a tablespoon was about perfect! *Correction: Turns out I had the extra spicy “Mexican style” chili powder – Made it again with a Tablespoon of the plain stuff and it’s not spicy at all.)
  • 1 teaspoon ground cumin
  • 1 teaspoon salt
  • 1 teaspoon black pepper
  • 4 cups steamed Japanese rice (sometimes labeled “sushi rice”)
  • Lettuce (optional)
  • Tomatoes (optional)
  • Queso Blanco or shredded Mozzarella cheese (optional)
  • Salsa and/or hot sauce (optional)
  • Sour cream (optional)

I realize this looks like a lot of ingredients, but keep in mind that the last 5 are toppings and are entirely optional, according to your tastes.

1.  Get your rice cooking according to the package directions.  Like I’ve said before, I use my rice cooker to justify its existence.

2.  Heat the vegetable oil in a sauté pan over medium heat.  Add the 3 cloves of minced garlic and the chopped onion and sauté for a few minutes until the onion starts to get soft.  See?  Simple stuff.

3.  Add the pound of ground beef (or turkey) and break it up and cook it through.  You want to make sure it’s cooked because making people sick is never a good thing – it would make it nearly impossible to blame them for being too picky if they don’t like the food.

4.  Once the meat is cooked, drain some of the grease if necessary, then add the 3 Tablespoons of soy sauce, 1 Tablespoon chili powder, 1 teaspoon cumin, 1 teaspoon salt, and 1 teaspoon of pepper.  Let the flavors mingle and simmer and the liquids reduce for a few minutes.

5.  Meanwhile, prepare your toppings.  If you managed to get a hold of some queso blanco (Mexican white cheese – they sell it at my crappy little grocery store), crumble it up.  Otherwise, shred your Mozzarella (or whatever cheese you decided to use… I hope you’re using cheese), tear up your lettuce, dice your tomatoes, etc.

Then simply assemble in individual bowls!  Here’s how I did mine:  Rice, ground beef mixture, Cantador hot sauce from Chile Town (a nice, mild, garlicy sauce), queso blanco, lettuce, roma tomatoes, sour cream.

My mouth is seriously watering right now.  I can’t explain to you why this is so good.  You just have to try it.

Productivity is a State of Mind

Okay, so this is what’s happening:

First, I just did something almost unheard of in the universe that is my bodily system.  I didn’t let any caffeine enter into it until noon.  The delay wasn’t a result of some inspired attempt to better myself by cutting back on my caffeine intake.  Oh, no.  I did not intend to deprive myself the entire morning.

Photo source

But after I wrote my notice of fame and let Jillian torture my aching (but growing) muscles, I still had to shower and make myself presentable (one of the negative, time-sucking ramifications of deciding to venture out into the world instead of staying at home with a couple of cuddly mutts – mutts who, after their mischievous and completely accidental consumption of chicken grease from the trap in the grill last night, decided to vomit all over the floor before I left), so I didn’t actually leave my dwelling until half past eleven.

Second, I finally made my way to the trendy coffee place (no Starbucks or chain bookstore for me today, thankyouverymuch – I like to support the local businesses) and my hands are shaking, either because I waited so long to have coffee or the shock of the super syrupy sweet stuff – as opposed to the plain ol’ black stuff I brew at home – was just too much for my unstable system and now I’m having difficulty just writing this post.

I know that can’t be good, but let’s just worry about one thing at a time.

Photo source

The difficulty I’m having might also be due to the fact that I’m not used to writing with all this… stimulation around.  There are colors and lights and music and other people I keep finding that my fingers have stopped typing in order for my ears to better pick up on their conversations or for my mind to wonder what other people are writing.

I’ve never been good at multi-tasking.

Like, is the girl next to me writing a future best-selling novel?  An obscure but insightful blog post?  An article for a fashion magazine about the merits of owning a pair of red pumps?  A thought-provoking Facebook status?

Whatever it is, I’m sure it’s good.

So maybe this isn’t the best environment for me to work.  It’s the music that makes it the most difficult.  I don’t listen to music while I write at home, because, well… all I end up doing is listening to the music.

Speaking of music, you’ll never guess who just walked in.  (Seriously, you’ll never guess because I’ve never told you about him.)  His name is Miraj, and I met him at the wine bar, where he brilliantly performs various acoustics for one of the regular singers.  He looked shocked to see me outside of the wine bar (picture your reaction the first time you saw a teacher at the grocery store or anywhere outside the classroom – it’s freaky), and apparently this coffee bar is his second home.  He hosts various open mic nights here on a regular basis, and after we spent the last half hour chatting, I’m excited because I’ve officially found my in for half-price fancy coffee in Fayetteville.

And It only took me 4 years.

So.  Even though I have now been here for over an hour and what you see in this post is all I have managed to write in said hour, I consider this time well spent.

I actually intended to post a recipe this afternoon – a recipe I’m really excited to share – but I’m afraid it will now have to wait until tomorrow because I’ve rambled for 615 words about coffee and why are you still even reading this?

Decide What to Be and Go Be It

Oh, my.  I don’t know what to say.  It looks as though the world is weary of romance – or at least in need of romantic pressure relief – because a tiny, unromantic piece of my little world is being shared today, on Valentine’s Day, on one of my favorite blogs:

Musings on Life and Love

It’s a fine-tuned version of my Valentine’s Strip Tease post from last Friday.  So, if you want to see what my writing looks like when it’s all professional and polished and edited multiple times and not just pieced together over a bowl of Frosted Mini Wheats and coffee-induced caffeine buzz, head on over to Musings on Life and Love and check it out!

Speaking of coffee, I think I’m going to attempt writing this afternoon’s post at a coffee bar after my workout this morning.  I had a very good night at the wine bar on Saturday, and that, combined with my newfound fame over on Musings and the $7.88 my writing earned last year, I think I deserve to sit in a trendy coffee bar typing away on my HP Mini while a goth barista brings me steaming venti mugs of non-fat, caramel-choco-mocha lattes because if I’m going to be a writer, I at least have to try to look the part.

Right?

Oh, and as a side-note, THE AVETT BROTHERS performed at the Grammys last night!

I love them so much that I died.

Then I came back to life so I wouldn’t miss the song.

And then I died again.

P.S.  This post is for Stacy, because she brought the Avetts and good coffee into my life.  She’s not goth, but she’s weird in the most perfect way and sometimes, when I start to confuse myself in line at a coffee place, I just take a deep breath, think WWSD, and sing.

P.P.S. If you haven’t read Stacy’s guest post on this blog, you probably should.

 

 

 

My Name is Might Have Been

I kind of had a bummer of a morning.

It’s one of those things that I actually felt coming.  I can’t describe it.  A couple of months ago, I had high, high hopes for this thing happening, but after not hearing anything, and then not hearing anything, and then, finally, not hearing anything, my thoughts turned negative.

So now I can’t decide if my thoughts turned negative because I somehow knew it wasn’t going to happen, or if it didn’t happen because my thoughts turned negative.

Either way, the envelope was there, sitting on my kitchen counter this morning.  (How it got to the counter and managed to sit all night without me knowing about it, I have yet to figure out.)  But the envelope only confirmed my suspicions.  Had things gone the way I wanted them to go, I would have gotten a phone call – not a nondescript, cold little envelope, the weight of which made it feel like I was holding a twenty pound dumbbell.

On my chest.

I opened it anyway, already knowing what it said – that, for some reason or another, I would not be donating bone marrow to my potential match.  I would not be saving a life.

It turns out the reason is not because, after extensive blood testing, they determined I’m not a great match.  It’s because the patient is no longer a candidate for receiving bone marrow.  Which, I have to say, is news that likely bodes far worse for the patient than it does for me.

But I still feel bummed.

I wanted to help.

I wanted to do something worthwhile.

I wanted to do something that meant something to someone.

But I’m starting to realize… It’s not really about what I want, is it?

I’m going to stay on the Department of Defense Bone Marrow Donor list, for which I signed up when I worked for the Army a couple of years ago and promptly forgot about until they called me just before Christmas.  If you’re not affiliated with the Department of Defense but still want to consider putting yourself on the National Marrow Donor list (at no commitment to you – there will always be a choice about whether or not you want to donate, right up until the end), check out their website, www.marrow.org.

Let me know if you have any questions.

*Title taken from lyrics to Celebrity Skin, by Hole.

Two Things:

1.  I don’t really miss making money.  Not that much.  I miss being good at my job, and I miss many of my old co-workers (a fact that was only emphasized last night when I was able to spend some quality time with them).

But the money?  Only when I have to do things I’d rather pay someone else to do.  Like clip my dogs’ nails.  Because while my dogs are really actually very good about letting me do it, that doesn’t change the fact that I’m still terrible with a nail file.  And then things like this happen:

Okay.  It doesn’t look that bad.  But it’s really hard to set the aperture and shutter speed while picking a focal point all with one hand because you’re trying to take a picture of the underside of your other arm reflected in a mirror, all while trying not to make your typical, scrunchy “concentration face.”  But it does look a tad more gnarly in person.

2.  Check back this afternoon, because I’m going to be writing a post about Valentine’s Day.  Because, you know – it’s like my favorite. Holiday. Ever. (Riiiiiight.)  I don’t really want to do it.  But if there’s one thing I’ve learned from the world of blogging this week, it’s that V-Day is not to be avoided.  Especially when you have a story that involves tacky t-shirts, broken dreams, and Carmen Electra.

Instant Mood Rectifiers: 001

Well, the good news is that I woke up this morning to a second day of sunshine in a row.

The bad news is that I still woke up feeling like my body had been run through a meat grinder overnight and then pieced back together by little elves who must have misplaced the blueprints and forgot to oil the joints because I know my knee wasn’t quite this rickety yesterday and it can’t be from Jillian’s lunges and all those muscles she’s making me grow or the fact that I type while sitting with one or both legs tucked up under my butt, so it must be the elves.

Old, very UN-flattering (to both me and my then-unfinished living room) picture stolen from this post of yore.

Fortunately, it’s nothing a little ethereal coffee can’t fix (or at least temporarily make me forget about).

A cup of coffee like this is just one of many IMRs – Instant Mood Rectifiers – I have tucked away in my little metaphorical box of things that make me feel good.

(Hey!  I said metaphorical – get your minds out of the gutter.)

Those of you who’ve been reading this for any amount of time probably know another one of my major IMRs is music – especially music that’s being performed live – right in front of my face with each strum of the guitar strings entering a direct line to my veins.  But since I can’t keep Jack Johnson or the Avett Brothers tied up in my hand bag (but wouldn’t that be interesting?), pre-recorded music works too.

There’s a wide range of music that can improve my mood at any given time, but there really are two songs that come to the forefront of my mind when I feel like I need a pick-me-up.

*I’m sorry the playback is restricted on my web page – but just click the link inside the video and it will take you straight to YouTube where you can listen to your heart’s content.

Melody, by Kate Earl:

and…

Build Me Up Buttercup, by the Foundations:

I realize this second one makes no sense – especially since it’s basically about a girl who continuously dicks a guy over (or a guy who continuously lets a girl dick him over, depending on how you look at it), but there is just something about that song – and I’m almost positive that it has nothing to do with the cruel lyrics – that makes me have to smile.

This is but a small sampling of things in my bucket o’ feel-goodery, but feel free to bookmark this page if you have a moment when you’re feeling especially crappy and you need a quick – and perfectly legal – mood-enhancing fix.

IMRs, baby.  They’re a very good thing.

My Big Fat Greek Wrap

I was hesitant about sharing this recipe today because while it’s certainly good, I think it could be improved.

(Well technically any recipe could be improved, but I like to post things I love and wouldn’t really change much.)

It’s called Pork Souvlaki and can be found here, but I just like to call ’em Greek Wraps.  You know, to keep it simple.  The pork in this recipe is cubed and skewered and roasted in the oven.  Now, I might not have been crazy about it because I bought pork chops; however, I think this would’ve been really tasty (and worked better for the wraps) if it had been shredded, pulled pork.  But that’s just me.

The flavor of these babies is fantastic.  Because of my “Life ADD,” I’m always experimenting with different ethnic flavors.  And I think Greek flavors might be among my favorites – oils, olives, and feta cheese.  What’s not to love?

Speaking of olives, there aren’t any in this recipe.  But maybe there should be.  Because olives, in my humble little opinion, are one of the best. foods. ever.  Green, black, kalamata… mmmm.  I love them so much that when I was little, I used to ask Santa for cans of black olives for Christmas.

You say crazy, I say practical.

Now back to your regularly scheduled program.  These wraps are pretty simple.  Just cook your meat, prepare your veggies, warm your flat bread, and assemble!

You will need:

  • 2 tsp. salt
  • 1 tsp. dry dill
  • 1 tsp. dry oregano
  • 1 tsp. garlic powder
  • 1 tsp. lemon juice
  • 1 Tbsp. olive oil
  • 1 lb. boneless pork, cubed
  • Flat bread
  • Vegetable accoutrements (optional – I used red bell peppers and cucumbers)
  • Feta cheese (optional, but why wouldn’t you use it?  It’s cheese.)
  • Tzatziki (optional, but highly recommended – this is a Greek yogurt/cucumber dip.  I found mine in the deli section at Wal-Mart.)

1.  Combine the first 6 ingredients to create the marinade for your pork.  Or is it a rub?  It’s kinda wet, kinda dry.  A marirub?  Rubamade?

This doesn’t look like a lot of wet/dry marirub, but it will cover the pound of pork quite nicely.

2.  Cube the pork (again, I used chops, but please educate me, those of you who know your meats, about what kind of cut might have worked better for this) cover the pieces with your rubbinade.

Just mix it with your hands if you like the feeling of squishiness between your fingers…

Mmmmm…

Cover the meat and let it marinade in the fridge for at least 2 hours (but as with any marinade, letting it sit overnight would be even better!).

3.  When the meat is ready, preheat your oven to 350-degrees F.  Stick the meat tightly on some wood skewers, place them on a foil-lined pan, and let them bake for 30-40 minutes.  (If I make it this way again, I will probably increase the oven temperature to 400 for the last 10 minutes or so to get the pork crispier on the outside.)

4.  Meanwhile, chop up your chosen vegetable accoutrements and sauté them in a little oil.  If you have a double-oven, these would be phenomenal roasted in a pan at 400-degrees.

5.  Just before your pork is ready, start heating the flat bread on the stove in a pan over low heat.  Get your other garnishes (feta and tzatziki) ready as well.

Tzatziki is the perfect accompaniment to these wraps.

And if you have to eat some of it with pita chips while your pork is cooking, I won’t judge you.

6.  When everything’s ready, set it up assembly-line style.

Just assemble the wrap to your liking!

Don’t forget the tzatziki.  Tzatziki makes the world go ’round.  (Or at least it makes my world go ’round.)

Or you could put a little Windex on it.

JUST KIDDING.  Do NOT put Windex on your wraps.  Windex should not, under any circumstances, be ingested.  But can you name that movie?  (The title of this post might be a slight giveaway.)

The flavors in this are wonderful. If you try these and figure out a more satisfying (less chewy) way to cook the meat, please let me know!

Wonderful Deathless Ditties

I knew what I was going to name this post before I wrote it.

That never happens.

Or has never happened, I should say.  Up until now.

I once read a book by Mark Haddon called, The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time.  It’s written in the voice of a 15-year-old autistic boy named Christopher who, at one point in the story, expresses his dislike for “proper novels” because they are essentially lies.  And the beauty is that his disdain for lies is not a question of morals – he doesn’t care that lies are wrong – what bothers him is the fact that while only one thing really did happen at a particular time and place, “there are an infinite number of things which didn’t happen at that time and that place.”  And when he starts thinking of all of those things that could happen in a lie, they keep filling his head until he feels shaky and scared.

There are too many options.

And sometimes, that’s how I feel about writing.

When I try to write fiction – to make up a story – I become lost with possibility.  I’m afraid to let a character choose a direction and get too far, only to find out that direction isn’t where I wanted him to travel at all.  My head swims with the possibilities and I give up before I even start.

But blogging?  This makes more sense.  I can pick a topic on which to focus – or not focus, as the case may be – and just have at it until I’ve exhausted the details to my satisfaction.  This writing is train-of-thought – typing the words as they run through my mind, with little thought of how they’ll sound or backtracking to make them be… better.

Because it’s something I have yet to accomplish, I admire those who can create a story, beginning to end, complete with developed characters and coherent, conceivable plots and inspire joy or compassion or hatred or grief.

I feel the same way about poets and lyricists – writers who can instill these same emotions or conjure vivid imagery without excess words.  I can’t tell you how many times I’ve found immense inspiration from just the right lyrics heard at just the right time.  They have the power to find ways into your subconscious like water through cracks in cement and

alter moods,

break hearts,

change minds.

Perhaps no one pays better homage to these artists than Arthur O’Shaughnessy in his poem, Ode.  Although you may not know the poem, you’ve likely attributed its opening lines to this guy:

“We are the music-makers,
And we are the dreamers of dreams”

But it was O’Shaughnessy who first said it – who said what the rest of us feel but can’t express about those who create from scratch – novelists, poets, playwrights and musicians – those “wonderful deathless ditties” that leave marks on our souls (*if you don’t like poetry, pretend these are song lyrics):

We are the music-makers,
And we are the dreamers of dreams,
Wandering by lone sea-breakers,
And sitting by desolate streams.
World-losers and world-forsakers,
Upon whom the pale moon gleams;
Yet we are the movers and shakers,
Of the world forever, it seems.

With wonderful deathless ditties
We build up the world’s great cities,
And out of a fabulous story
We fashion an empire’s glory:
One man with a dream, at pleasure,
Shall go forth and conquer a crown;
And three with a new song’s measure
Can trample an empire down.

We, in the ages lying
In the buried past of the earth,
Built Nineveh with our sighing,
And Babel itself with our mirth;
And o’erthrew them with prophesying
To the old of the new world’s worth;
For each age is a dream that is dying,
Or one that is coming to birth.

The poem is actually nine stanzas long, but you get the idea.

Think of some of your favorite song lyrics.  How have they changed you?  Defined you?  Affected your spirit?

Maybe I’m just an idealist, but I think in the end, that this is the status for which all artists strive – perhaps not for the ability to “trample an empire down” with their words, but to make an impact.  Inspire change.  Become a “mover and shaker” of the mind of at least one person.

That – more than wealth, more than education, more than caste – is power.

 

How to Make $7.88 Per Year

Today I did something that scared me.

Not something that scared me a little (like opening a tube of refrigerated biscuit dough), but scared me a lot (like hand-serving a select portion of my insides on a platter to Hannibal Lecter and, for some inexplicable reason, finding myself hoping he likes it).

I wrote something and submitted it to an online publication.

Well that’s not a big deal.  You do that practically every day on this blog.

True, but I can write whatever I want on this blog.  There are virtually no restrictions except for the ones I place on myself.  And the people who read this are not under any delusions that I’m an “actual” writer – I’m just a girl with a blog.

Well I checked out the link and it looks like anyone can submit to that site.  Just like anyone can write a blog.  That shouldn’t be scary.

Theoretically, no.  It shouldn’t.  But this is the first step of a process through which I am trying to gain viable freelance writing connections and start building a portfolio.  I’m trying to get them to like me.  (And they will even more if you read my posting and hit “save” – you might need to sign in to the site to do so.)

Haven’t you ever been the new person at a job and you’ve had to head to the break room for lunch on your first day, frozen Lean Cuisine clasped in your nervous little hand, wondering how the hell you’re going to break the ice with these people?

Photo source

That’s a little what this feels like.

The editors at Trazzler are going to judge me based on 124 words over which I agonized for over an hour.  (Wow, it kind of sucked to admit that.)

What lit this fire under your ass?  We thought you were happy with this blog and your renewed passion for serving people food and alcoholic beverages?

I do love the blog.  And I’ll choose to ignore the food comment.  But honestly?  This stemmed from a surprising little email I received with the subject line:

“Demand Media, Inc. sent you $7.88 USD.”

And I was all, Who sent me $7.88?  In U.S. dollars, no less?  And how do I get them to send me more?

Turns out I finally got a payout from Ehow.com for an article I wrote… I don’t know… about a year and a half ago.

But did the tiny payout deter me?  Heck no.  Turns out this is exactly what I needed to realize there is just a slight possibility that I could actually get paid for something I write.  I’ve just never tried, because I’ve never known where to start.

Turns out you start by writing.

So that’s what I’m doing.

I know there will be rejections.  I know there will be failures.  But in the end, I’d rather have the feeling that I failed after trying than failing without trying at all.