Yea! It's almost over! It's been a Yummy month, but I'm really, really glad there aren't 27 letters in the alphabet.
It's almost time for the curtain to close and everyone to take a bow :) I am so excited about all the new bloggers I have discovered during the month! You are all stars in the theater of my mind and I applaud you!
X is a stupid letter. Sorry, X, but you are. You are really useless. Well, except for the "X marks the spot" thing. That's kind of cool. But other than that, I don't really see where you fit in. The alphabet could really be 25 letters, cuz, seriously, what are we supposed to do with an X? Especially if you're like me and you've been doing food all month. If I wasn't doing food, I could do X-Files or Xmen. But, I've done food all month and I'm not about to give up now. I guess I could do Xtra gum. Boring. Or Xtra big helping of tarantulas. Umm, no thanks. I could do chinese food because it all seems to begin with an X. I suppose I could do X-ray - - but that doesn't really have anything to do with food.
OK! Bingo! I will do "xoxo" - which we all know means hugs and kisses. HERSHEYS! Yup - it all comes back to chocolate, baby! X - you have redeemed yourself!
All this talk of tarantulas and bacon and onions and quarter pounders this month has made me very thirsty. And when I am really thirsty the only drink that satisfies is Water. Agua. de l'eau. H20. wasser. vann. I love water, whatever the language. My mind, however, working the way it does, immediately went to work - -
"What's that Lassie? Timmy fell down a well??"
Can you imagine pulling up a bucket from a well expecting to draw a nice drink of water and instead finding a shivering, wet boy named Timmy??
Ok. Enough! Shake it off. Back to the topic - - Water. Water is life. I could give you all sorts of boring statistics about how good it is for us, but I won't. We all know that we couldn't live long without it. And not only is water life-giving and the most delicious of all beverages, but water is also lovely to look at.
V alentine cookies! When I was a little girl in elementary school, we had THE best parties ever on Valentine's Day. I'd say it was all because of the Valentine cookies (because my theme is food), but I'd be lying. It was partly the cookies, but mostly the valentines. We would spend days making the prettiest, frilliest, doilie-est valentines EVER! (And yes, doilie-est is the newest word in the Judy Dictionary). Not only did we make the greatest valentines ever, but we also decorated the most beautiful pink paper lunch sacks to house all of those coveted professions of love and friendship. Then, on the actual day - Valentine's Day - mothers would bring the most delicious and beautiful homemade Valentine's cookies. And red punch. Always red punch.
Then, the moment we were all really waiting for - - passing out our valentines to each other, and hoping against hope that you would get one from your secret crush. Some valentines would be store-bought, some would be handmade, but they were all treasures that you would look at over and over again.
Valentine's Day is also my father-in-law's birthday. Val - named after Valentine's Day - one of the greatest and kindest men I will ever know. Cancer took him several years ago. Now, Valentine's Day is a day to remember him and the great legacy he left for his family and all who knew him.
And a day to toast his life with a delicious beautiful Valentine cookie!
Ugh. How many times have you heard that after you've called your family to dinner and they see the tuna noodle casserole sitting on the table? Again. Or the spaghetti? Again. Or the mac and cheese and hot dogs? Again. I have no pride. I will shamelessly admit that I hear that . . . a lot! "Ugh!! Not again! We have that ALL the time!" My response in the past has been, "If you don't like it, feel free to make your own dinner."
I think from now on I will say, "How about a nice fried Tarantula instead, my precious?"!
Every food that I have blogged about thus far, A - S, has been a food that I have or would eat myself. That was the only rule I set for myself when I began this challenge - - first-hand experience. There IS, however, an exception to every rule, and the letter T is it for me. As a famous pirate once said, "rules are really just guidelines." So, with rulebook out the window, here goes - -
Did you know that the T arantula is to a Cambodian what a Twinkie is to an American? Yup, a sweet, succulent snack that kids beg their parents for. But while the Twinkie is full of sugar and preservatives, the Tarantula is bursting (yes, gross pun intended) with protein. So, as a responsible Cambodian parent, the Tarantula is clearly their snack choice. Can you imagine a little Cambodian kindergartner sitting down with his sack lunch and pulling out a fruit snack and his Tarantula. The little boy next to him spies it and his eyes get wide, "Hey, I'll trade you my Twinkie and a hundred dollar bill for your Tarantula." And the kindergartner says, "No way, dude!!"
If you ever go to Cambodia and muster up the courage to approach one of those Tarantula-selling street vendors, I've got a couple of helpful hints for you. First, go for the crispiest critter there. Why? Because the longer frying time, the less squishiness in the abdomen. Eeeew, gross. And, if the Tarantula has been fried in enough oil and caramelized sugar, you'll hardly notice the hairs. Double eeew.
You can eat them whole, but if you're new at it (and hopefully you all are), you'll probably want to start by pulling two or three legs off at a time and chomping on those. The reasons? Well, first, with each crunch, you'll be able to taste the salt, sugar, oil and garlic that the vendors use to cook those babies in. And, second, if you put too much in your mouth at once, you'll probably feel the legs jabbing at your gums from all directions. That is probably not a sensation that you will want going on in your mouth while chewing.
But, here is the best (only?) reason to eat a Tarantula - - the Cambodians believe that they make you beautiful!
Unless, of course, you get a hairy leg caught between your teeth.
R is for RUDE!!! Well, it was really supposed to be for Restaurants, but my post for today was deleted!! It was an awesome post - and now it's gone! The same spirits that put my dog on our dining room table must have deleted my post!!
Food always brings the sweetest memories to me. Memories of my childhood. One of those memories is going to McDonalds. Walking up to the window and ordering our food. Sitting on tables outside (because you couldn't go inside - and wouldn't want to even if you could). Seeing the golden arches and the sign that says "1 million sold." The menu in 1965 consisted of -
The menu for 2012 consists of more items than I care to count - - more than a dozen different types of hamburgers, eight chicken sandwiches, an array of wraps, salads, breakfast items. . . and on and on. And prices ten times what they used to be.
Even Ronald McDonald was more uncomplicated back in the day. Today he looks like this - -
I like simple. I like uncomplicated. I like cheap.
Samwise Gamgee. A true friend. Frodo couldn't have done it without him. Everyone should have and be a friend like Sam. But, this post isn't about Sam. And it's not about LOTR, although I am a big fan. It certainly isn't about creepy/pathetic Gollum. And it's not about friends. Although we all need friends. No. This post is about potatoes. Po.Ta.Toes.
I don't know why I love potatoes so much. Maybe because of their versatility. There is so much you can do with a po.ta.to. Mash them, french fry them, make pancakes ouf of them, hash brown them - - - need I go on? Maybe I love them because they are a comfort food, and I am in constant need of comfort. If they could make a blanket out of potatoes, I would have one. I would hold it against my cheek and sigh. I would sleep with it. But, instead, I eat Po.Ta.Toes.
I love onions. I love green onions. I love red onions. I just love onions. Everything tastes better with onions. (I'm also a fan of mouthwash and mint gum.) That being said, I think I live in heaven on earth. The home of the most famous onion of all - the Walla Walla Sweet Onion, the most delicious onion on earth and in heaven! I also love Peter Pieri. He was the French soldier who found a sweet onion seed off the coast of Italy over a century ago and brought it back here . . . to my home. (Why he came to Walla Walla 100+ years ago, I don't know. Maybe some sweet love story motivated him. That would be so romantic and make such a good story. And then we might be famous for romance as well as onions. Like Juliet's wall, although that isn't famous for onions, just sweet romance.) But, for whatever reason, he came and he planted. And with sweet onion seed firmly in the Walla Walla soil, the rest, as they say, is history.
When we first moved to Walla Walla, my husband made each of us take a bite of a Walla Walla sweet onion, like an apple. We live here, he said. We need to experience it. Gross, I thought, but I was wrong. It was sweet and juicy and delicious and I've been a fan ever since.
If you are ever in Walla Walla in July (and, in case you were wondering, we actually ARE a destination place), visit our Sweet Onion Festival. Yes, we have a festival devoted to the sweet onion. Or if you'd just like to experience the Walla Walla sweet onion for yourself, you can order them at sweetonions.org. And they're not paying me to say this.
Take me out to the ballgame Take me out to the crowd Buy me some peanuts and crackerjacks . . . blah blah blah
Seventh inning stretch. That's the first thing I think of when I think of Nuts. I don't know why. Maybe because I grew up in Anaheim and was a California Angels FANatic!! I was in love with Rick Reichardt, the left fielder. I was maybe 12 years old. Total tomboy. I would go to the games like 3 hours early so I could see every second of batting practice, imagining that all the players knew I was their biggest fan. Thank goodness, I eventually grew out of that. (By the way, the California Angels will NEVER be the Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim - - that is an idiotic name and totally NUTS!)
But now when I think of Nuts I think of things like One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest, or the same Jack Nicholson in the Shining . . . "heeeeeere's Johnny." Creepy NUTS! Or the guy we sometimes see in our neighborhood walking in the middle of the street spewing crazy nutty unintelligible things. Definitely creepy Nuts.
Mickey. Yes, you heard me right. Mickey. I know what you're thinking. "What kind of food is a mickey?" Well, no kind of food that I know of. We've heard of people who "slip a mickey" to someone, but that has more to do with a beverage than with food. Nobody I know would ever slip anybody a mickey, even though most everyone I know drinks beverages (you know, like lemonade). But I definitely don't hang out with "slip a mickey" creeps.
So, what does Mickey have to do with food? Let me tell you. Do you remember your childhood ice cream truck? It would drive through the neighborhood in the summertime and before you ever saw the truck you would hear its music? "Everybody. SHUT. UP. Do you hear it?? Is that the ice cream man?!!!" Then mayhem as everybody dropped their bats and balls (what can I say, I was a tomboy) and ran to their houses to look for change. The music, which sounded like carnival music, got louder and louder as the truck got closer and closer. And you practically had a heart attack thinking it would pass you by while you were still ripping the couch apart looking for those coveted quarters. Good times!
Because of the carnival music, you almost expected the ice cream truck to be driven by a bear twirling a baton and wearing a tutu. The ice cream truck that came through my neighborhood, however, was not driven by a bear. It was driven by an old gray haired little man named . . . Mickey. There. Now you know. Mickey, the ice cream man. He was a sweet old guy who for some reason took a special liking to me. I know what you're thinking. But this was back in the "Leave it to Beaver" days, not the "Criminal Minds" days, so it wasn't weird or creepy. He was just a kind hearted old man who brought us kids the most delicous fudgesicles and strawberry shortcake ice cream on a stick. And, yes, occasionally he would bring me a gift, which, I guess now that I think about it, could have been misconstrued as creepy. But it wasn't. It was sweet.
I have never claimed to be a good cook. I love watching all the cooking shows, though - - like Top Chef, Next Food Network Star, Throwdown, Chopped - - you know, those. However, if I were to ever be a contestant on any of those shows, it would be "Worst Cooks" - and I would win the title, hands down. My family, in sheer survival mode, tries to build me up as a cook and convince me that I'm good. But I know the truth. And I'm okay with that. I love take out.
But a few years ago, my son was leaving for Bulgaria. He was going to serve a mission for our church, and he would be gone for two years. His only request before he left was that I make him L emon squares. That was the least I could do for my little boy before he left to some faraway land. And I've eaten lemon squares, they didn't seem too hard to make. Afterall, it's not like it was lemon souffle shaped like the country of Bulgaria. They were lemon squares - just lemon, shaped like a box. Surely I could do that. So, I found a recipe - - and it wasn't just any recipe - - it was the "perfect" recipe, or so it said. How could I screw up a "perfect" recipe? It asked for lemon zest. I don't have lemon zest. Why would I? And grounded almonds. Nope, not those either. Plus, there were just too many steps to these "perfect" lemon squares. So, I bought a box. You know, like a box cake. Only these were box lemon squares. Long story short - - disaster. I couldn't even make a box.
So, today, L is for Loser (could be Loser Me . . . but it's really for Loser Lemon Squares).
Kool-Aid - The Elixir of Life. Okay, maybe not. But, it was the elixir of my childhood. I don't remember ever drinking water, except from a drinking fountain. Oh, I learned something new the other day. Two of my daughter's roommates are from Boston - - they call a drinking fountain a "bubbler." I thought that was cute, so had to share. Back to Kool-Aid. I suppose that I really DID drink a lot of water as a child, seeing as that's what Kool-Aid is - - water, flavoring, and a butt load of sugar. And I know now that it was the butt load of sugar that I really loved. But, whatever. Kool-Aid - - the green kind. Loved it.
Summer always meant Kool-Aid stands. Back then you didn't need to apply and pay a zillion dollars for a permit just to have a kool-aid stand. Kids were allowed to be kids. Yea for back then! There were no rules, no regulations - - just a card table, a couple of chairs, cups, a box for all your money and a pitcher full of Kool-Aid! No parents freaked out by the butt load of sugar. No creepy men driving by slowly, with sneers on their faces and gross stuff in their minds. No neighbors complaining about the unlicensed business at the end of a driveway. Nope. None of that. Just total innocent fun! The way childhood is supposed to be.
Memories are woven by so many different threads of experience. One of those threads in my tangled web of memories is Jujubes. Yes. The candy. Those hard, sort of chewy little candies that you could get at the movies. Just the thought of them makes my mouth water, my teeth hurt, and the memories swirl around in my head.
When my sisters and I were little, we went to the movies a lot. On Saturdays, my mom and dad would drop us off at the theater, usually the Fox Anaheim. It had a balcony. We never sat in the balcony . . . we knew what happened there. Ick. Mom and dad would pick us up when the movies were over. Yes. You heard right. Movies. As in two. Double feature, baby! The good ol' days. The days when a movie ticket cost fifty cents and you didn't have to take a loan out to buy a popcorn and a drink. Plus, you got to see TWO movies - two GOOD movies - not one good movie and one stupid movie. And cartoons during intermission! Heaven!
Two movies, a popcorn, a drink, cartoons AND jujubes! My candy of choice back then. You could chew/suck on one of those babies and it would last the entire movie! That might be because they stuck to your teeth and were almost impossible to get off, but still . . .
I love ice. I love it in my Diet Pepsi, and I love it in my Diet Coke (I am no respecter of soft drinks). I love crushed ice. I do not like the ice cubes you make in those little plastic things in your freezer. I think that ice tastes funny. But, ice is not just ice. Ice has many faces. What about ice sculptures? And ice skating? I love to watch Olympic ice skaters. They are so graceful and their costumes are so beautiful. And if the Olympics ever goes to Sweden, you can stay at the Ice Hotel. Yes, a hotel made of ice. Brrrrr. It's built new every winter. Artists come from all over the world to help build it. BYOC or you might get cold.
And ice is also a girl's best friend. There's also ice.gov, which is the website for the US Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE). And iceculinary.com - The Institute of Culinary Education. Cold as Ice by Foreigner, my fav. One of my favorites is ice cream. Tillamook peanut butter and chocolate. Or Ben and Jerry's Vanilla Caramel Fudge. Ice is endless (unless it melts).
But, I will end as I began - - crushed ice and Diet Pepsi. Oh ya!
The first time I ever had Hawaiian Haystacks (or, chicken sundae, as it is known by amateurs) was at a church activity many years ago (I'm sure there must have been green jello also). It was an assemble-yourself kind of deal that was just a little weird to me. Sitting on a long table were serving bowls of rice, chicken and gravy, and a number of toppings. I had to look at the person in front of me in order to know what to do. I assembled my meal, sat down and began to eat . . . it was delicious! And now I am hungry and my stomach is growling, and I think I know what's for dinner tonight!
So, I will leave the "recipe" with you and a wholehearted endorsement . . .
2 cans cream chicken soup 1 can (or so) of milk 2 cups cooked chicken breasts, diced or shredded (I liked shredded)
Heat soup and milk on the stove until heated through. Should be consistency of gravy. Add the chicken and cook til warm.
Serve the sauce over cooked rice, and then top with any of the following:
shredded cheddar cheese pineapple tidbits sliced olives diced green onion chopped celery sliced almonds diced fresh mushrooms chow mein noodles diced tomatoes mandarin oranges cashews soy sauce OR ANYTHING YOU WANT!! (which is the beauty of this simply delicious meal).
So simple (which is what I do best - - actually it's the ONLY thing I do!) ENJOY!!
I am a fan of gum. Chewing gum. As a child, one of my favorites was Bazooka bubble gum. We used to have contests to see who could blow the biggest bubble, and then laughed when it popped all over our face. I loved the Bazooka Joe comic strips that came with each piece of gum. Back then, chewing gum was pretty straight forward. We didn't need instructions to know how to chew it. We just unwrapped it, put it in our mouth and chewed. In these complicated days, however, I guess people are confused and need directions. Fortunately, I found these on the internet, complete with illustrations (you, however, will have to use your imaginations) - -
1. Find out what the chewing gum is made of (huh?) 2. Choose the type of gum you wish to chew, and the flavor (you mean we get to choose??) 3. Know the facts about each type and flavor (facts? like price? like if it's spearmint?) 4. Place the gum in your mouth (man, I was going to put it directly in my hair) 5. Chew the gum using your chewing teeth (chewing teeth?) 6. Occasionally, draw the gum to the front of your mouth and exercise your biting teeth (which, I guess, are different from your chewing teeth) 7. For bubble gum chewers, blow a bubble a couple of times every minute (hence, "bubble" gum) 8. Continue chewing the gum for as long as you desire (or longer, if you want) 9. Once finished, place the gum in a wastebasket AFTER wrapping it in some paper or tissue (I can't just put it under my chair?)
Chewing gum is so complicated these days. Kind of takes all the fun out of it.
I apologize to my arteries for what I'm about to say.
There there is nothing better than . . . fried foods. There, I've said it. My arteries, however, will be pleased to know that The British Medical Journal did a study, published in January of this year, which showed that fried foods are not bad for you if they are fried in olive or sunflower oil. Ha! I stopped reading after that because I didn't want to see if a "but" followed. Yes, I know. The study didn't say that fried foods were healthy (or DID it? I didn't finish reading!) - just that they weren't "bad" for you. "Healthy," "not bad," - semantics. All the same to me. So, fried foods - thumbs up!! Straight from our friends across the pond. I love those Brits!
And where better to get fried foods than at a fair! Fairs are really kind of creepy (mainly because of the really scary people who work there). But fair food is totally amazing! The unofficial motto of state fair food vendors is that if you can fry it, you can eat it. Fried bacon, fried oreos, fried coca cola, fried kool-aid, fried pop tarts, fried Twinkies, fried club salad. You name it, you fry it. The 2011 Wisconsin State Fair even offered clumps of deep fried butter. That sounds extremely gross to me, but who am I to judge?
Next month is our annual Balloon Stampede. Hot air balloons in the sky and rows of vendors on the ground selling their wares, including, of course, fried foods. We don't have anything as exotic as fried coca cola (although if we did, I'd be first in line), so I will look for the humongous platter of fried french fries (redundant, I know).
Every Easter Sunday when my sisters and I were little my mother used to dress us in new frilly dresses, bonnets with bows, white gloves, pretty shiny shoes and socks (we were very, very cute), and then we would go to church. I didn't really like to go to church when I was younger. However, I didn't mind going - not one bit - on Easter. That may have had something to do with the candy. Heavenly angels standing at the doors with lucious boxes of candy . . . and they were GIVING IT AWAY!! Actually, they were just ordinary men, but to me they were angels! Because, really, what is more heavenly than giving away candy to adorable little girls?? In my little girl eyes it could not get any better than that!! And after church we would come home and look for our Easter baskets, which had been filled with even more sugary goodness and hidden in plain sight somewhere in the house. I’m sure that my early Easter years have a lot to do with the sweet tooth that now curses me in my adult years.
But to counteract all that wonderful candy were the eggs.The wonderful, beautiful, sloppily colored Easter Eggs. I loved coloring Easter Eggs.The newspaper inadequately covering the table, the little glasses of vinegar, the color tablets and the metal egg holders.Placing the eggs in the egg carton and waiting impatiently for the color to dry so the eggs could be hidden.And, finally, after FOREVER, the hunt.Heart pounding, you hope you find as many as the other kids.Looking in the same spot over and over, hoping against hope that an egg would be hidden there.And when all the eggs were counted and it was announced they had all been found, when you weren't looking mom and dad make sure you had as many as the others. And, then, it’s over. And all of a sudden you’re not feeling so good.
I love Easter. For many reasons. Easter Eggs among them.
Doughnuts. Who doesn't love doughnuts? It's almost unAmerican not to love them. I love them. Policemen love them (although that could just be a stereotype). Little children love them. Picture a little child eating a jelly doughnut, jelly dripping down his arm, sweet little kisses of thanks afterwards. What is a sweeter image than that? No pun intended. My sister reminded me that when we were little my father would stop for doughnuts after church at Winchells. (No, we didn't have church at Winchells - - I should restructure that sentence.) Those are good memories. And if you want a normal, sweet, yummy delicious doughnut, go to Winchells, or Krispy Kreme, or any other doughnut shop. You won't be disappointed (unless, of course, they taste like crap, which is doubtful because - - they're doughnuts).
However, if you want an experience along with your doughnut, there is only one place that will do. And if you've ever been to Portland, Oregon, then you know what I'm talking about. Voodoo Doughnuts. The home of the Voodoo Doll doughnut, and many others previously unknown to mankind, with weird names and delicious flavors. Imagination is the only boundary in the creation of Voodoo Doughnuts. Open 24/7. And if you'd like to get married while you're eating your doughnuts, then go ahead, do it - - get hitched at Voodoo Doughnuts. Seriously. You can be married (legally, even) beneath a holy doughnut and a velvet painting of Isaac Hayes, if you are irreverent enough to do that.
Yes, doughnuts are scrumptious and should be and probably are a staple of every obese American's diet. Let's all get fat together!
C oconuts. HA! I bet you thought I was going to talk about chocolate! Wrong! Although, I suppose, if you broke down the word "coconut," you could probably come up with a chocolate angle - - "coco" (or "cocoa") "nut" - - Chocolate comes from cocoa nuts. But, wait. I digress. Back to coconut. A funny food. Or drink. Or weapon. Or bowl. Or ball. Coconuts conjure up so much more than food. For instance, I immediately think of a candle my children gave me. Smells lovely. And, it's housed in a coconut shell, which is really cool. Someone gave my daughter a bank made from a coconut. It had no money in it. I guess that was her job. She's fired. That job will NOT go on her resume. But the empty coconut bank - - so cute. Coconuts - - a brand of shoes. So versatile. And coconut brings to my mind a childhood memory - - the Helms Bakery truck. It used to drive through our neighborhood and tempt us with the most delicious chocolate covered coconut patties. Back to chocolate. Food is just one big round circle (kind of like an open mouth).
And there are even songs about coconuts . . . I've got a lovely bunch of coconuts or You put de lime in de coconut . . .
I think of movies (Castaway) and TV shows (Survivor, Gilligans Island).
But, MOSTLY I think about . . . .
Kind of pathetic, I think, that everything comes down to food for me.
So, I guess the only question is: is coconut a fruit, or a nut? Or both?
The letter B hadn't even finished forming in my brain before I knew what I would write about - - BACON! Duh! Who doesn't love bacon? I could hear the sizzle and smell the hickory smokiness and see the grease staining the paper towels - okay, that part isn't very appetizing. But, still, it's bacon!
But the weird thing is - - I don't want to write about bacon bacon. I want to write about Kevin Bacon. I know he isn't technically a food, but humor me. He's the bacon that popped into my mind, so he's the bacon that stars in the blog.
I like Kevin Bacon. I don't love Kevin Bacon. Not like I love bacon bacon. I liked Kevin Bacon in "A Few Good Men," and "Tremors" - the first one. He was kind of adorable as that dorky rednecky kind of guy. And I really liked/hated him in "The River Wild." I wanted to hit him with an oar and knock him into the river. I looked at Kevin Bacon's filmography. He's been in a zillion movies, most of them I've never heard of.
The one thing about Kevin Bacon that I really don't understand is this: Why do girls think he is so good looking?? I really don't think he's cute. I mean, let's be honest - - he has some appeal just because of his name. Cuz really, how can you go wrong with the name Bacon? Seriously, even if you were hideously ugly and had BO and no teeth, when people hear your name, they're going to smell bacon and lust after bacon, and the hideously ugly, smelly, toothless person named Bacon won't seem so bad. That's the beauty of bacon bacon. It's an equalizer.
And, just in case you were wondering, I don't think Kevin Bacon is hideously ugly. He probably doesn't even have BO. I just don't think he's very cute. I do, however, have a sudden craving for a BLT while I watch a KBM (Kevin Bacon movie).
A month or so ago I was contemplating my topics for the A to Z challenge. I was having a hard time coming up with stuff to write about. For instance, the only thing that came to mind for the letter A was a pastry called an "Alligator." It is deliriously delicious, but I don't think I could write a whole blog about it. Nor would you want to READ an entire blog about them. I could, however, EAT a whole "Alligator" while WRITING a blog, but that's kind of not the point of the challenge. (Although, that could be a new and exciting challenge for the future - - eating baked goods with one hand while writing your blog with the other!) In my self-deprecating way, I mocked myself for thinking of baked goods. As much as I like baked goods, writing about them for a whole month would be self-destructive to my blog and to my girlish figure. So, I needed another idea.
It was right in front of my eyes (or nose). Food. Not just baked goods, but ALL food. A topic near and dear to my heart. Now, I don't want you to think that I weigh 500 pounds or anything (although if that were true, I would hope you wouldn't judge me by that fact.) I just like food. I bet some of you do, too. And certain foods bring certain memories, or evoke certain moods or feelings.
So, 26 days of food it is. Starting with the letter A . . .
I love love love avocados. In sandwiches, in tacos, in salads, in guacamole . . . or by themselves. I just love them. My mother-in-law says it's the Calfornia girl in me. I don't know if that's true or not. I don't remember eating avocados growing up in SoCal. But I do love them now.
I googled "avocado" to see if I could come up with some interesting tidbits about the fruit. Did you know that the Aztecs called it the "fertility fruit?" I only have three children. Enough said. This next little "interesting tidbit" kind of grossed me out and made me wish I hadn't googled.
The word "avocado" comes from the Spanish aguacate which in turn comes from the Nahuatl word ahuacatl (testicle, a reference to the shape of the fruit).
I asked a friend of mine, who is from Mexico (where the avocado originates), if she knew this about the avocado. She did not, and was just as grossed out as I was. I will not stop eating avocados because of this new fact that is forever embedded in my brain. I will, however, never think of them in the same way. Thanks google.