breakfast · brunch · comfort food · dinner · easy · eggs · gluten free · healthy · lunch · quick · vegetarian · Yummy

Classic Scrambled Eggs and a New Friend

Two months ago someone handed me a kitten. They walked into my work (at an animal hospital) and said they found the little fuzz ball running around in the street. It was June 8th, the day Anthony Bourdain died, and I was in a dark place. I woke up that morning to the news on my phone and cried with Cortney while making breakfast. Anthony Bourdain has been one of my idols for years. I’m not one to mourn celebrity deaths much, but this one hit too close to home.

Around 8:30 that morning a woman walked in with a little nugget of a cat to check for a microchip. She’d hung onto him for 4 days at this point, and could no longer keep him due to allergies. I held him in my palms and he leaned back against my fingers as if he was in a tiny recliner, all the while sniffing my chin. Before I even knew what was happening, I blurted out that I might be interested in keeping him. THERE WAS NO THOUGHT PROCESS AT ALL. He pressed his little wet nose against my neck and I was done. The person they had lined up to take him fell through, and 30 minutes later he was mine.

I texted the boyfriend (who we’ll start calling T) telling him what happened and looking for name suggestions. His immediate response was, “Bourdain.” And so it was.

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He was mine and I was his. Neither of us was quite sure what to do.

Within 24 hours I realized that I had made the very grave mistake of adopting a demon. He was 3 pounds and what nightmares were made of. T was watching him while I was in Duluth with Cortney, and he texted me a few hours after dropping him off saying, “THIS IS MORE WORK THAN A BABY.” It was like a 2 year old throwing a temper tantrum ALL OF THE TIME. Except this little fucker bites. HARD. If kittens weren’t so fucking cute, cats wouldn’t exist at all. We’d just murder them all and not even feel bad about it. They’d be considered pests, and we’d hire old, gruff dudes to “take care of it.”

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Look at those sharp little teeth!

Within 48 hours I was having some serious buyer’s remorse. He peed in my laundry a week after peeing on my bed, and I thought, “This is it. I’m going to be a kitten murderer, and no one will be my friend again.” No one wants to be friends with a kitten murderer. I had to control myself.

It took him a solid 3 weeks to be allowed free range of the apartment without supervision. It took another 3 weeks for us to successfully sleep in the same bed without him biting me. Honestly, we’re still working on the biting. But he’s good with Harriet. And I think he’s good for me. He shook up my life, and I need that sometimes. We all do.

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Harriet’s checking to see if the eggs are fresh. She’s a good helper.

So, between the two of us, T and I now have 4 cats. It will certainly make living together interesting, should that ever happen. I’m sure Bourdain wouldn’t even flinch at the idea of terrorizing all 3 of the other cats. He’s completely brazen and undeterred, and while that irritates me, I respect it.

Scrambled eggs with buttered sourdough toast has been my obsession for the last few months. I took Anthony Bourdain’s approach with this, and kept it simple. No cream. No milk. No herbs or hot sauce. Just butter, salt, pepper, and fresh eggs.

Classic Scrambled Eggs

2 eggs

1/2 tablespoon butter

Salt and pepper

Absolutely NOTHING else

Place a skillet on the stove over medium heat. Drop in a pat of butter. Crack eggs into a small bowl, making sure to pick out any shells. Whisk until the yolk and white are fully incorporated, but not whisked into oblivion (control yourself). Swish around the butter that should be melted in the pan to fully coat the bottom. Then add another pat of butter and immediately afterwards, add in the eggs plus salt and pepper. Coat the bottom of the pan with the eggs and wait until it starts to set (maybe 30 seconds) before moving it all around. Add more salt and pepper after pushing the eggs around a bit with a wooden spoon. Anthony Bourdain says to make a figure 8 with the spoon, but I find that moving around any which way works just fine. Once the eggs are mostly cooked (but still look a little wet), scoop them out onto the plate. The residual heat will finish cooking them without making them rubbery.  Serve with a thick slice (or two!) of fresh baked sourdough toast slathered with lots of fresh butter. I like to piled it on the bread and eat it like an open faced sandwich. Bourdain always tries to get a bite, too. He’s kind of a dick.

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Not a scrambled egg, but you get the gist. He’s a MONSTER.

dinner · easy · healthy · lunch · mushrooms · pasta · quick · vegan · vegetarian · veggies · Yummy

Vegan “Cheesy” Pasta and “Hot” Yoga

Y’all. I did a hot yoga class today, which ended with me panting, sweaty, and shamelessly in child’s pose. Fuuuuuck. Adding heat makes a huge difference. I spoke to the teacher after class and mentioned that I’d never done hot yoga before. He made it a point to emphasize the fact that this was not, in fact, “hot” yoga, as real hot yoga is done at 105 degrees. This was a mere 98 degrees. NBD.

Fuck.

The flow wasn’t even that hard! This has kicked my ass on a whole new level.

Also, can we discuss the mirrors for a second? My studio doesn’t have mirrors, and I prefer it that way. Why do I need to stare at my sweaty ass for an hour? It just makes me feel worse about myself. I mean, I’m sure the mirrors are technically to help with the students’ alignment, but who are we kidding? Some people are just never going to understand alignment, and don’t give a fuck. And if they really want to learn, isn’t it more about how it feels in their body? They should be able to find the alignment without looking into a mirror.

I really hate mirrors when I’m sweaty and in workout clothes. Especially in Warrior II. Fuck. My ass is out of control in that pose, and my belly sticks out. I know, I know… body positivity. And I’m 100% fine with it when I don’t have to look at myself struggling and covered in sweat. It’s the looking at myself in these poses that starts to make me self conscious. Logically, I know these things don’t matter, and I am worthy of love and acceptance. I know that. But fuck. Baby steps.

I made this pasta the other day with simple ingredients that I already had on hand. I know nutritional yeast isn’t something most people just have lying around, but I had it because I’d been meaning to try it. It had been sitting in my fridge for a few weeks when I finally made this pasta. It is definitely not the same as cheese. But it’s still really good! Give it a shot, and just add cheese if you must.

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Vegan “Cheesy” Pasta

1/2 onion, chopped

1/2 red bell pepper, chopped

1 handful mushrooms, chopped

1/2 pint grape tomatoes, sliced in half

10oz pasta (choose your own shape!)

1 1/2 cups veggie broth

1 1/2 cups non-dairy milk (I used cashew)

A large handful of baby spinach or chopped Swiss chard

1/4 cup nutritional yeast (found in the bulk aisle at any co-op or Whole Foods)

Garlic powder

Salt and pepper

Olive oil

Drizzle some olive oil into a large pot and toss in the onions, peppers, and mushrooms. Sprinkle with salt, pepper, and a little garlic powder (go easy!). Saute for several minutes, until the onions brown slightly. Add the tomatoes and cook for another 2-3 minutes. Pour in the broth and milk. Stir in pasta and bring to a simmer. Allow to simmer for about 10 minutes, or until pasta is al dente. The liquid will absorb and thicken. While still hot, add in the spinach and mix until fully wilted. Finally, sprinkle in the nutritional yeast and mix well. Top with basil if you’re feeling fancy (I didn’t have any on hand).

Love yourself no matter what you look like in silly yoga poses.

comfort food · dinner · easy · healthy · lunch · pasta · quick · soup · Vegetables · vegetarian · veggies · Yummy

Spinach Tortellini Soup and New Year’s Resolutions

I fucking hate New Year’s Resolutions, but I always secretly make one anyway. I mean, not that that is exclusive to January 1st, though. I always think that starting tomorrow/next week/next month I’m going to start being healthier/more active/more organized/thinner/smarter/more well read/somehow better than I am. It doesn’t matter how much I advocate for loving yourself just as you are, society has still been telling me my entire life that I’m not good enough. I certainly don’t need the reminder every fucking January that I’m still not good enough. Fuck you, January. You don’t know me.

Self love is a constant struggle.

So, in an effort to exercise more (because I want to, not because some shitty-ass Instagram post told me to), I have been taking more aerial fitness classes (and by “more,” I mean two so far). Aerial seems like something I’d be good at… it seems like something that would come naturally to me. I have a strong yoga practice and have been doing AcroYoga for the last year and a half. I’m familiar with being upside down, and I’m pretty bendy. But I’m also heavy. And I haven’t really worked on my upper body strength a whole lot, so…

Fuck. I’m so bad at it. I took a class the other day that was taught by a teacher trainee. Walking into the ice cold studio, I was greeted by a woman in Lululemon workout gear, curled hair, and a full face of make-up. She smiled and bounced over to me, which caused nothing on her body to move at all because she was clearly 0% body fat. There’s nothing wrong with looking like a marble statue! Nothing at all! That’s just not what I look like, and I can only handle so many discouragements when entering a new fitness class. We started with some “warm-ups.” I feel like she kept emphasizing the fact that we were just “warming up”, which made my panting, sweaty ass feel like shit. She referenced our abs several times, and I was like, “What? Where?” as I glanced down at the soft rolls of my belly as I did standing planks while desperately clinging to the aerial silk. I sloppily attempted to pull my entire body weight forward, while maintaining the reverse plank in mid-air, and I kept thinking, “Dear, God, please don’t let me fall backwards before we’ve even gotten into the silks. I can’t handle that kind of humiliation today. I’m far too delicate.”

Once we got “warmed-up,” we got into some of the aerials (poses/moves with our entire bodies in the silks – often involving being upside down). Fuck yes. This is the shit I’m here for. Bring on the inversions! The first one involves hanging upside down with the silk supporting me at my waist. Okay. Great. Got it! Then she had us “crochet” our legs in the silks for added support, so that we could then reach for the silk above our feet, and pull ourselves all the way up into a seated position. You’re following this, right? Because I’m not. Literally everyone else in class just pulled themselves up like it was fucking nothing. But me? I’m over here using all my ab strength just to reach for the fabric. I literally can’t do a pull-up. Not even one. Never could. It’s just not in the cards for me. So pulling myself up from an inversion feels insurmountable. I’m just dangling there, trying first with my right hand, then my left, which is starting to make the silk sway back and forth. I grab on with both hands (finally), and pull with everything in me. Nothing happens.

Let me try that again.

No luck. At this point, I am swaying back and forth while grunting. Everyone else is resting comfortably in their makeshift chairs as the instructor has them practice doing pretty poses in the air. Fuck you guys.

I gave up and just hung upside down like that’s where I wanted to be.

Later in class there was the “vampire pose,” which consisted of pulling up so much that your entire upper body goes all the way through (with the silk wrapped around your waist) and you land in the silk, but parallel to the floor (like if you were pretending to be Superman). The instructor did it very quickly, and it honestly just looked like a great way to break my face. Fuuuuuuuck that shit. I’m out.

During Christmas week I made this soup to make sure I had something other than cookies to eat. It’s so simple and lovely, and makes the apartment smell like cozy winter evenings. Try it – you’ll love it.

 

Spinach Tortellini Soup

1 medium onion, diced

2 carrots, peels and sliced

2 stalks celery, diced

“5 ounces” baby spinach (just grab some big handfuls)

8 ounces (about) frozen tortellini (No, I did not make that shit from scratch. I’m not Martha Stewart, and I’m okay with that.)

8 cups veggie broth  (Make your own! It’s easy! Just boil shit!)*

Olive oil

Salt and pepper

A few sprinkles of dried parsley

Optional: Shredded parmesan to serve

Heat a drizzle of olive oil in a large soup pot (it’s easiest if this is all done in the same pot – duh). Throw in the onion, carrots, and celery. Saute until cooked through (a few minutes), stirring occasionally. Add a little salt and pepper. It’ll be more flavorful if you let the veggies brown a little bit. Stir in the veggie broth and bring to a boil. Reduce heat and allow to simmer for a few minutes. Add in the frozen tortellini and simmer until they’re warmed through (I mean, just pay attention). Once everything is ready, then finally add in the spinach. It only takes a minute or two for it to fully wilt into hot soup. Sprinkle with parsley and salt and pepper to taste. Serve with some shredded parm (I’m usually a big cheese advocate, but this isn’t super necessary if your tortellini already has cheese in it… which it should, or you’re doing it wrong).

Eat up! You’ll need your energy for humiliating yourself at your next fitness class.

*Not literally.

comfort food · dinner · easy · gravy · Holiday recipes · lunch · mushrooms · potatoes · quick · Sauces · sides · thanksgiving · vegetarian · Yummy

Mushroom Herb Gravy and Car Shopping

Holy fuck you guys. I bought a new car just in the nick of time. It’s a fucking winter wonderland out there, and I am fully prepared with a car that has working heat (and a fully functional engine that doesn’t threaten to stop at any given moment). Hallelujah!

I bought a purple Honda Fit, and promptly named her Vivian (“Viv” for short). She and I are in love and plan to live a long and happy life together.

Car shopping is the literal worst. I went to several used car dealerships (I mean, who the fuck is out there buying new cars, and do they also have a room full of money in which they swim?), some of which were 40+ minutes away (that’s a long drive in a car that may or may not die without warning). There was one I found online that had several cars in my price range and also had good Yelp reviews. Perfect. I’m ready and I know what I fucking want. Let’s do this.

I pull up to these two wooden shacks. There’s a small sign that says the name of the dealership, and I can see a bunch of cars parked in a huge dirt parking lot behind them. So I walk into one of the buildings and see several people working at desks. No one offers to help me. After standing around with a look of bewilderment on my face, I finally interrupt one of them, a young woman with fake nails and purple highlights, to ask if someone could help me find a car. She tells me to just walk out to the parking lot – there are salesmen out there. Fantastic. As I walk towards the cars, the wind picks up, blowing dirt and sand into my face. I power on. Once I reach what looks to be a wasteland of damaged vehicles, I scan the area. There is no one out there that looks anything like a salesman. There are two couples looking at cars, one of which is asking questions of a man in dirty jeans and a hooded sweatshirt that is driving around in a golf cart. Dirty jeans. Hooded sweatshirt. A GOLF CART.

Am I at a house party in the country? What is happening here?

Dirty jeans man is, in fact, an employee. And he’s not alone! He helps direct me to a second dirty jeans man with his very own golf cart as well. Perfect. Drive me around this piece of shit lot and find me a car that isn’t covered in hail damage. K. Thanks.

Dirty jeans man #2 proceeds to tell me (while he takes me for a golf cart ride) that all the cars on the lot are salvaged. Most of them were purchased at auction and are from floods. Wonderful. He also takes me back to the office with rude purple highlights lady and tells me that I have to look through this huge book that lists all the cars on the lot. Once I find one I like, I should then find a dirty jeans man to drive me (in the golf cart) to said car.

I did not buy a car from them.

Since I was in the area, I opted to check out another dealership. This one only had one employee that I could see. He was a gruff old man that was also poorly dressed. When I walked into the lobby, he was in an office off to the side helping someone else. As that costumer left, he yelled, “Come in,” as though I was a misbehaving child being called into the principal’s office. I tentatively sat down and stated that I was looking for a used car. He asked what I was looking for specifically. I confidently stated, “Honda Civic or Fit with under 130,000 miles for less than $5,000.” At this point I already had my eye on Viv, but wanted to shop around. He let out a chuckle and condescendingly stated, “Oh, honey. You’re not gonna find nothin’ like that. Not for that price.”

I stood up and said, “I already have! But great! Thanks!”

It was a 30 second interaction. I’m proud of myself for not murdering anyone.

The whole thing ended with me getting a very fair deal on Craigslist from an older couple that was just fucking lovely. They also wore clean jeans, which is nice.

I made this gravy for Thanksgiving and it was a hit (with me and one other person, but we have good taste). It’s cold as fuck outside, and that means it’s goddamn gravy season. Am I right?! So throw this together in 20 minutes to help warm up your insides.

 

Mushroom Herb Gravy

8 oz white button mushrooms, thinly sliced

3 tablespoons butter or oil

2 cloves garlic, minced

3 tablespoons flour

2 cups veggie broth

1 sprig rosemary

1 tablespoon sage (minced fresh or dried)

Salt and pepper

Melt butter in a large skillet over medium heat. Add the mushrooms and saute for about 5 minutes, stirring occasionally. Add the garlic plus salt and pepper and cook for another minute or two. Make sure the moisture from the mushrooms has completely evaporated. Sprinkle in the flour and stir to combine. While frequently stirring, allow mixture to cook for another 3-4 minutes. Let the flour toast slightly, turning a golden brown. Whisk in the broth, making sure to fully incorporate it with the flour (no lumps!). Throw in the rosemary (whole) and the sage. Stir well and allow to simmer for 7-10 minutes, or until desired consistency. Remove sprig of rosemary.

Pour that shit on everything. I scooped it onto some fried potatoes, wilted Swiss charge, and then topped it with an egg (see below).

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corn · easy · gluten free · potluck food · quick · sides · snacks · Vegetables · vegetarian · veggies

Mexican Corn Dip

You ever drink so much that you end up knee deep in mud?

No? Just me? Fantastic.

Apparently you’re supposed to pay attention to where you’re walking in the woods when coming upon a river. I mean, I thought I was paying attention. Clearly, that was false. My boss had to pull me out of the mud, breaking my flip flop in the process. Since those were the only shoes I brought with me for the weekend trip, I had to wear his shoes home.

I’m not good with moderation (or boundaries). I am, however, working on it.

Most companies host a tasteful party once a year, and maybe throw in a few team building exercises. At my work, we like to get hammered and wander through the woods together. It’s how we bond.

I was actually planning on not drinking much this year. But then I showed up to my boss’s house and immediately starting downing pineapple mojitos (thanks, Stacy!). Before I knew what was happening, I was sinking into mud, running around in the river, trying bear meat for the first time, voicing any little thought that crossed my mind, and being an all-around obnoxious drunk person. Suddenly it was early morning, and I was waking up to the sound of dogs walking around, the taste of death on my tongue, and a feeling of regret in the pit of my stomach. #storyofmylife

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But I did make this fucking scrumptious Mexican corn dip to share. I discovered the stuff at a dog’s birthday party the week before. Yes, a dog’s birthday party. He was turning 15 and spent the afternoon getting table scraps and eating ice cream straight out of the container (sounds like every single night I’ve spent white girl wasted). There were cupcakes with frosted swirls of poop on them. It was amazing. I got a little drunk there as well, and went to town on this corn dip that someone brought, after yelling at him for topping it with cilantro (I mean, how dare he? Didn’t he know I was the only one that mattered at this party?). Drunk Kelsey can be kind of a bitch.

After berating him for using cilantro, I also chimed in with, “Have you ever had Mexican style corn with the mayo and cheese? You know, they sell it on the street sometimes? This tastes just like that!” as if this was a revolutionary idea he couldn’t possibly understand. He responded with, “Yeah, that was the idea,” and proceeded to graciously give me the recipe. (He was actually really nice and patient with me.)

OMG, is this what it feels like to mansplain something? I’ve never been on the other end of it before.

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Mexican Corn Dip

4 cups corn kernels (fresh, frozen, or canned)

1 or 2 jalapenos, diced

3 tablespoons mayo

2 tablespoons shredded parmesan, plus extra to sprinkle on top

Juice from 1/2 lime

1/2 teaspoon chili powder

Olive oil

Salt and pepper

Drizzle some olive oil into a skillet and put it at medium-high heat. Throw in the corn and jalapenos. Cook for 8-10 minutes, stirring occasionally, until cooked threw and slightly browned. Pour the corn/jalapeno mixture into a mixing bowl with all the other ingredients. Scoop into a shallow serving dish and top with a little extra parmesan and chili powder. Serve with tortilla chips.

If you made it ahead of time and are just pulling it out of the fridge, bake it at 350 degree for 20 minutes, then top with cheese and chili powder before serving.

Side note: These pictures are shitty because I was drunk. *insert shrugging emoji*

comfort food · gluten free · lunch · potatoes · quick · shopping · sides · vacation · vegetarian

Homemade Mashed Potatoes and Vacation Brain

I’m going on vacation today, but my brain has been turned off for at least 2 days. It makes everything more difficult. My patience is wearing thin (and, let’s be real, it’s not great to begin with). I was up late last night frantically packing, because it’s impossible for me to plan ahead. I also insisted upon going to an acro jam, because apparently I wanted to have even less time to pack. And I showed up late to the jam (which, if you don’t know, is just a term for acro people getting together and doing acro for a few hours without a teacher), because I was starving to death. I made mashed potatoes at the last minute, which is silly because it’s not really an on-the-go type of food.

I also ended up going to MOA (for those that aren’t cool and live in MN, that stands for Mall of America) after work last night to return a swimsuit that I purchased online last week. I think I’ve complained about this before, but what is the fucking deal with plus size swimsuits(or is it all of them?)? I ordered one from Torrid with these cute little pink details and a much needed underwire… only to find that it won’t even remotely accommodate my chest. I even tried it on in a bigger size in the store, and technically it fit… but fuuuuck. I was going to have a nip slip for sure, and I don’t need that kind of stress in my life. Fuck that shit. I’m all for a sexy, low-cut look… but I also intend to be swimming and snorkeling. I need to feel secure in my swimsuit. I’m sick of all the stores carrying the some shitty styles in plus size. Like, no, I do NOT want a fucking halter top. Why is this the most common option? Can you even comprehend how heavy my breasts are? That skinny ass fucking strap is cutting into my neck. It’s horrible. And even this one that I purchased last week, which was supposedly made for my body type, is completely impractical. I was literally going to fall out the top of it, and then to make matters worse, there were padded inserts to help push me further out of the top. What. The. Fuck.

Anyway, I did end up finding something I like, but the whole experience was a pain in the ass. I’m just glad it’s not a halter and that it doesn’t have a fucking skirt attached. Stop trying to hide my body. Fuck.

While I’m so excited about all the amazing things I’ll be doing while on this vacation, one of the most exciting parts of it for me is that I will get to turn my brain off for a bit. I’m fucking exhausted. For 2 whole weeks I won’t have to worry about bills, chores, work, or (most importantly) dating. I don’t have to fucking overthink anything, or analyze intentions. I just get to fucking relax and have fun. This trip is so needed right now. And I will get to spend time with a handful of my favorite people, which just makes it even better. Plus, I’ll get to eat mochi every single day in Hawaii.

So these mashed potatoes (is it still plural when it’s just one potato?), like I said, were made on a whim when I was starving last night. I was really craving french fries, but you know, you can’t always have what you want. I’m a big fan of leaving the skin on for mashed potatoes (my mom always says that’s where all the nutrients are), but you’re welcome to peel yours first. I live alone, so I usually only boil and mash one lone potato. It works out really well, because that one potato fluffs up to double it’s size! Try it out. Making mashed potatoes for one doesn’t have to be considered “too much effort.” It’s really easy, actually. Besides, you’re worth the extra effort.

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Homemade Mashed Potatoes

1 large russet potato, unpeeled (but remove all the growths on it, because we all know it’s been sitting in your cabinet for weeks)

1.5 tablespoons butter

A large splash of half and half or milk (~1/4 cup)

Salt and pepper

Bring a pot of water to boil. You only need enough water to fully cover the potatoes. While waiting for the water to boil, wash your potato and chop up into 1-2″ cubes. Once water starts boiling, throw in the potatoes (Carefully! Splashing boiling water is no joke!). I suppose you could just put the potatoes in before boiling the water, but I like to live on the edge. Let boil for about 10-15 minutes (until soft – you’ll know by stabbing a cube with a fork, lifting it out of the water, and it falls right off). Drain and place back into the same pot. Add butter and start to mash with a potato masher. I like to wait until the butter is mostly melted before adding the half and half. Start with a small splash of half and half and mash a bit more. If it’s still too thick, add some more. Continue adding half and half until it’s the consistency you like, and then add some salt and pepper. Taste as you go. You’ll need more salt than pepper, but pepper can be a nice touch.

You could also top this with some green onion, or add in some cooked mushrooms and garlic. Roasted garlic is always good with mashed potatoes, too. But I kept mine simple last night, mostly for a lack of time. Serve with whatever the fuck you want. I did a fake chicken patty and some arugula, because that’s all I had lying around. I wouldn’t judge you at all for serving it with nothing. Just eat that shit right out of the pan while watching some Netflix if it makes you happy. Fuck going out and socializing.

avocado · breakfast · brunch · comfort food · Dating · dinner · easy · eggs · healthy · lunch · quick · Sandwiches · vegetarian

Spicy Avocado Toast (aka My New Obsession)

I have been eating this literally every morning for breakfast this week. It’s even better than the original avocado toast recipe. I kid you not. This also passes for a fucking awesome (and quick) dinner, which is helpful when you have many drink dates set up with crazy people from Tinder. It never ends.

I learned the term “Tinder Fatigue” this week. I was talking to this guy on the app about how overwhelming it can be to online date. Now, we had been having some decent conversation for about a week. I felt fairly comfortable talking to him about this. He didn’t seem like a dick. But he was just not understanding. Like, he thought everything was easy and fun. Sigh. Dudes – am I right? So I finally said to him, “Okay, just tell me then… how many matches do you have right now? I don’t mean just the people you’re actually talking to… but how many are in your full list of matches?”

“Eight,” He replied.

Well, shit. This guy has no clue. NONE.

Now I’m faced with a dilemma… do I lie? Do I somehow break it to him gently? How is this going to go? I’m a terrible liar, even via text, so I opt for the truth. I have 41 matches (which has only increased since having this conversation). You know what his first question was?

“So how many hook ups have you had on here?”

Sighhhhhh. So when I match with guys on Tinder… I’m fairly certain that 80% of them are swiping right on nearly every single woman they see. This means I am forced to sift through the pile of dudes. Fuck. I don’t want to waste my time sifting through a pile of assholes. Wouldn’t it just be easier for everyone involved if we read each other’s profiles and swiped accordingly? The profiles are literally less than 500 characters.

Several people have told me to join OkCupid. I thought it might be better because they match you with people based on about a million questions. One of the first things I did was check the “no babies” box, and then, just to be very clear, write in my profile that I don’t want kids. I love that they ask questions and give me a match percentage on OkCupid, but I absolutely fucking hate that they allow anyone and everyone to message me. I signed up for it, and then forgot about it for about a week. By the time I signed in again, I had 311 “likes” and 56 messages. Fuck. I scrolled through it for 2 minutes before closing the whole thing in a panic. I could not process that many people trying to talk to me. I couldn’t even look at their profiles. The whole thing was just too much. I waited a few days before trying again. I braced myself and signed in only to find even more messages (many along the lines of, “Hey, sexy/baby/sweetie/cutie/beauty/etc” or “You have a beautiful smile/hot body.” Gag). Before tackling the messages, I decided to fill out my profile more. At least now the messages are from people that somewhat make sense to me. Everyone else just gets blocked immediately. I’ve blocked so many fucking people.

The first Bumble date I ever had messaged me on OkCupid the other day. We went on one date 6 months ago that lasted about an hour. He bailed out of there so quickly that I just assumed he wasn’t interested. I wasn’t really either, so no hard feelings. Never heard from him again. Suddenly he’s interested? He’s all, “I really wanted to make out with you, but you didn’t seem into it.” Well, I wasn’t. And neither were you, because you bailed the moment our drinks were finished. He seemed to think we were going to reconnect. WTF? We literally met in person for one hour, and had nothing in common. Why the fuck would I want to see him again?

What is wrong with people?

I do have hope, though. I’m talking to a couple people that seem like decent human beings. I mean, for now. They’ll probably all ghost me, and/or be shocked that I don’t want children (and then ghost me).

One person even made it to 3 dates. That seems to be my max, though, so we’ll see if I ever hear from him again. He probably didn’t realize I don’t want to breed with him, and once he realizes he’ll ghost me and/or act appalled. I mean, how is he supposed to know when there are a full 4 sentences in my profile?

Goddammit, people – read my fucking profile.

Spicy Avocado Toast

1 slice sourdough bread

1 egg

1/4 to 1/2 avocado, thinly sliced

Red pepper flakes

Arugula

Olive oil

Hot sauce

Salt and pepper

Bring a pot of water to a boil and slowly lower in an egg. Let it boil for about 6 minutes (it’ll be runny in the middle). While it’s boiling, take your toast and layer with the avocado slices. Sprinkle some red pepper flakes on top, along with some salt. Drizzle with olive oil, and add as much hot sauce as you like. Top it with the arugula and a soft boiled egg. Use your fork to break up the egg a little bit, spreading it around evenly. Add some salt and pepper and shovel into your face. Eat this for all your meals because you can’t bring yourself to cook more than that, and you’re too busy going on many dates. When you’re done eating, collapse from exhaustion.

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