Chicken is one of those cheap and versatile foods, therefore it is a huge part of my diet. Despite popular belief, most "fresh" chicken arrives at your supermarket as a block of poultry ice and is thawed before being moved to the display case. Then if you're like me, you buy your assorted chicken parts in bulk, freeze and thaw them again, and then wonder why it tastes flavorless and dried out (not like this prevents me from eating it). The short answer to this chicken conundrum: brining.
Barbecue enthusiasts have been touting the wonders of brining for years, as keeping meat moist during a 15 hour smokefest is no easy feat. There are tons of brining recipes available on the Internet but most require water, sugar, and salt as staple ingredients. Basically you mix your brine in a bucket, ziploc bag, etc, and let your poultry soak in the mixture for a set amount of time (an hour for chicken breast, up to a full day for a large turkey). After brining simply cook, fry, roast, or grill your meat per your custom. The result: chicken so moist and flavorful that you don't mind eating it 4 times a week - as much!
Thursday, December 27, 2007
Wednesday, December 26, 2007
The End of an Era
I got an alarming call from my hair salon last week - they are officially closing at the end of this year. As I was scheduled to get my hair cut on Jan 2 my blood pressure immediately went through the roof before I was assured that I could come in on Saturday. It seems as if my three year relationship with Solace in Weymouth has officially come to an end.
I've probably been to 15 salons since graduating UMass in '02. Some of them didn't work out while others simply moved to greener (and warmer) pastures outside of Massachusetts. I've travelled to Amherst, Boston, Stoughton, Weymouth, Waltham, and Braintree in search of the perfect cut. With naturally curly (aka: Jew 'fro) tresses, it's tough to find someone who can do my do without making me look like Scary Spice.
It's not easy having a head full of devil curls and encountering stylists who tease your hair out 80's style after you explain to them that you spend the vast majority of your morning getting intimate with a flat iron. "You're soooo lucky to have these gorgeous curls", they coo from behind a defuser as I look on in horror at the fact that my hair is starting to resemble a chia pet. Right-o. Except when it's humid or rains or has not been treated with gallons of product to keep from frizzing. So basically, it sucks all the time except those random occassions when Jupiter aligns with Mars and the hair gods smile upon me.
Everything is cyclical and someday big, permed hair will become all the rage and I will be the luckiest girl this side of the Southeast Expressway. Until that time, I seriously need to find someone new to cut my hair. I'm willing to pay top dollar (as long as that dollar number is $75) to the stylist who can do my do without causing tears, emotional distress, or a bitchy parking situation.
I've probably been to 15 salons since graduating UMass in '02. Some of them didn't work out while others simply moved to greener (and warmer) pastures outside of Massachusetts. I've travelled to Amherst, Boston, Stoughton, Weymouth, Waltham, and Braintree in search of the perfect cut. With naturally curly (aka: Jew 'fro) tresses, it's tough to find someone who can do my do without making me look like Scary Spice.
It's not easy having a head full of devil curls and encountering stylists who tease your hair out 80's style after you explain to them that you spend the vast majority of your morning getting intimate with a flat iron. "You're soooo lucky to have these gorgeous curls", they coo from behind a defuser as I look on in horror at the fact that my hair is starting to resemble a chia pet. Right-o. Except when it's humid or rains or has not been treated with gallons of product to keep from frizzing. So basically, it sucks all the time except those random occassions when Jupiter aligns with Mars and the hair gods smile upon me.
Everything is cyclical and someday big, permed hair will become all the rage and I will be the luckiest girl this side of the Southeast Expressway. Until that time, I seriously need to find someone new to cut my hair. I'm willing to pay top dollar (as long as that dollar number is $75) to the stylist who can do my do without causing tears, emotional distress, or a bitchy parking situation.
Friday, December 21, 2007
By and large, the most exciting thing to happen in a somewhat mundane 2007 was the growing population of Hollywood's pregnant single ladies. Only decades ago if a young, unmarried woman got knocked up, she was sent to live with an "aunt" in a remote location. In today's more liberal times, a 16 year old celebritot becomes preggers and the future grandmama is lining up exclusive multi-million dollar photo ops. This my friends, is partly why I am so happy to be living in America today.
Statistically speaking, about 10% of all American newborns have mommies under the age of 19. In a nation with such diverse cultures, religions, and economic upbringings, getting pregnant is really one of the only equalizers left. No matter how our girls are raised, the reaction to the news of their pregnancy is almost always anger, confusion, and sorrow.
Whether she likes it or not, Jamie Lynn Spears is looked up to and adored by millions of tween girls. While they may have a Zoey 101 backpack and watch the show religiously, most of these girls are not likely to get pregnant at 16 just because their hero Jamie Lynn did. Afterall, girls have been cradling dolls and playing mommy for centuries; the coorelation between playing house, watching Nickelodeon, and getting pregnant is pretty non-existant.
Since we as a nation are so celebrity-obsessed, I think it would be wonderful to have a Jamie Lynn Spears reality show documenting her first year as a mom. They can edit out all the fun stuff, such as having a baby shower and buying outfits at the Baby Gap, and focus on the more day to day stuff. For example, they can show her waking up every 2 hours to do feedings or changing diapers a dozen times a day. They can watch her graciously turn down invitations to parties and cut back on her career so she can take her baby to Gymboree. Perhaps they can zoom in on her 16 year old friends doing normal 16 year old girl stuff while she sits in a pediatrician's office for 2 hours listening to her child scream their head off because they came down with an ear infection.
What will be so wonderful about this celebriality show is that like most teenage moms, Jamie Lynn will not have the benefit of having a boyfriend or spouse around to pick up the slack. While the father of her child is screwing around in LA, potentially becoming an absentee father to another child, Jamie Lynn will be sleep deprived and struggling to lose the baby weight in Louisiana. Also, since Jamie Lynn is under the impression that raising her child in some backwater Louisiana swamp will produce a well-adjusted tot, it will also serve as a wonderful way for me to get pointers on how to raise my own children some day. I can already picture the pilot episode to be aired on the CW.
The real kicker here is that in a year or two Jamie Lynn will be another has-been competing to participate in a VH1 show. There's no way that the wholesome Nickelodeon network is going to keep a 16 year old single mom on the air and while that may not be fair, that's life. If Jamie Lynn didn't realize that before then she is seriously not mature enough to be somebody's mother. Unlike the deadbeat dad, Jamie Lynn is the one with everything to lose. While the loss of her career as an American sweetheart is essentially over, she will likely find being a mom to be just as rewarding. It's unfortunate that wasn't able to postpone it for a few years and truly have it all.
Statistically speaking, about 10% of all American newborns have mommies under the age of 19. In a nation with such diverse cultures, religions, and economic upbringings, getting pregnant is really one of the only equalizers left. No matter how our girls are raised, the reaction to the news of their pregnancy is almost always anger, confusion, and sorrow.
Whether she likes it or not, Jamie Lynn Spears is looked up to and adored by millions of tween girls. While they may have a Zoey 101 backpack and watch the show religiously, most of these girls are not likely to get pregnant at 16 just because their hero Jamie Lynn did. Afterall, girls have been cradling dolls and playing mommy for centuries; the coorelation between playing house, watching Nickelodeon, and getting pregnant is pretty non-existant.
Since we as a nation are so celebrity-obsessed, I think it would be wonderful to have a Jamie Lynn Spears reality show documenting her first year as a mom. They can edit out all the fun stuff, such as having a baby shower and buying outfits at the Baby Gap, and focus on the more day to day stuff. For example, they can show her waking up every 2 hours to do feedings or changing diapers a dozen times a day. They can watch her graciously turn down invitations to parties and cut back on her career so she can take her baby to Gymboree. Perhaps they can zoom in on her 16 year old friends doing normal 16 year old girl stuff while she sits in a pediatrician's office for 2 hours listening to her child scream their head off because they came down with an ear infection.
What will be so wonderful about this celebriality show is that like most teenage moms, Jamie Lynn will not have the benefit of having a boyfriend or spouse around to pick up the slack. While the father of her child is screwing around in LA, potentially becoming an absentee father to another child, Jamie Lynn will be sleep deprived and struggling to lose the baby weight in Louisiana. Also, since Jamie Lynn is under the impression that raising her child in some backwater Louisiana swamp will produce a well-adjusted tot, it will also serve as a wonderful way for me to get pointers on how to raise my own children some day. I can already picture the pilot episode to be aired on the CW.
The real kicker here is that in a year or two Jamie Lynn will be another has-been competing to participate in a VH1 show. There's no way that the wholesome Nickelodeon network is going to keep a 16 year old single mom on the air and while that may not be fair, that's life. If Jamie Lynn didn't realize that before then she is seriously not mature enough to be somebody's mother. Unlike the deadbeat dad, Jamie Lynn is the one with everything to lose. While the loss of her career as an American sweetheart is essentially over, she will likely find being a mom to be just as rewarding. It's unfortunate that wasn't able to postpone it for a few years and truly have it all.
Friday, December 14, 2007
Hoorah for Class Action Lawsuits
Amongst the pile of supermarket circulars and credit card applications, I came across an envelope that look suspiciouisly like a jury duty notification. It turns out that as a globe trotting American, I've been targeted as a victim of the Man. It was scientifically proven in a court of law that during the decade that spanned 1996 - 2006, banks were screwing unassuming consumers to the wall with outrageous fees. I had always assumed that those $10 foreign ATM fees were a bit excessive. If a class action lawsuit isn't enough proof that I've been wicked duped, well, then I don't know what is.
It turns out that if you bought a candy bar in Canada with a debit card during this time, you're entitled to $25. If you travelled or lived abroad for a significant period of time, you stand to earn a bit more. Should you happen to be one of those people who saves all their bank statements (1996....that was like 4 mergers ago, right?) then you be potentially owed zillions, or maybe even a couple hundred.
Greedy lawyers, PIRG's, and Ralph Nader: pahkcah02 thanks you from the bottom of her cold, Republican heart.
If you think that you were victimized by the evil banking empire, go to www.ccfsettlement.com to see if you qualify.
It turns out that if you bought a candy bar in Canada with a debit card during this time, you're entitled to $25. If you travelled or lived abroad for a significant period of time, you stand to earn a bit more. Should you happen to be one of those people who saves all their bank statements (1996....that was like 4 mergers ago, right?) then you be potentially owed zillions, or maybe even a couple hundred.
Greedy lawyers, PIRG's, and Ralph Nader: pahkcah02 thanks you from the bottom of her cold, Republican heart.
If you think that you were victimized by the evil banking empire, go to www.ccfsettlement.com to see if you qualify.
Friday, December 7, 2007
He's like mishpucha already
The Troll has had various gentleman callers throughout the years, the most recent being a fellow named Bry. They've been seeing each other for a few months and I finally get to meet him this weekend. How do I know that things are getting serious? I've already been warned about my behavior.
It turns out Bry is a native of Maryland (or Baltimoron as they are lovingly referred to by the DC folks) and gets touchy when someone pokes fun of this fact. But seriously? Of course I'm going to make fun of his accent and the fact that the Ravens and Orioles suck. Who does she think she's kidding?
In my deranged world, if I make fun of where you come from, it means I secretly like you. Call it a Boston superiority complex if you will. Of course I'll try not to go overboard; afterall, it's not Bry's fault that he didn't grow up in New England.
I'm seriously looking forward to meeting Bry. He treats the Troll like a princess, has taught her the nuances of Ravens football, and can be a passenger in her car without being tranquilized. In mind, that makes him a stand-up gentleman, and one definitely worthy of my twin. If he can take my Maryland jokes and dish them back then he may be elevated to hero.
It turns out Bry is a native of Maryland (or Baltimoron as they are lovingly referred to by the DC folks) and gets touchy when someone pokes fun of this fact. But seriously? Of course I'm going to make fun of his accent and the fact that the Ravens and Orioles suck. Who does she think she's kidding?
In my deranged world, if I make fun of where you come from, it means I secretly like you. Call it a Boston superiority complex if you will. Of course I'll try not to go overboard; afterall, it's not Bry's fault that he didn't grow up in New England.
I'm seriously looking forward to meeting Bry. He treats the Troll like a princess, has taught her the nuances of Ravens football, and can be a passenger in her car without being tranquilized. In mind, that makes him a stand-up gentleman, and one definitely worthy of my twin. If he can take my Maryland jokes and dish them back then he may be elevated to hero.
Wednesday, December 5, 2007
Thinking that the Thought Counts
My mom has never been one for details, and growing up with a typical type A personality this used to bug me to no end. I'd request Boston Creme Pie flavored yogurt during her supermarket run and she'd come back with the Key Lime. I'd inform her that gymnastics practice was over at 7:30 and I wouldn't see the headlights of her Celebrity wagon until 10 of 8.
As I got older my frustration turned to acceptance, and then slowly morphed into a source of amusement. It's not that my mom goes out of her way to ignore the details. In fact, from her doing of view she generally thinks that she's doing something good by picking up the wrong flavor yogurt (she wanted some type of pie flavored, right?). Hanukkah rolled around this year and since I genuinely have everything that I need and tons of stuff I don't, I had to rack my brain to come up with a gift. Conversely, the Troll and Pee Wee have been making their lists and checking it twice since Labor Day. When mom asked me what I wanted I had to think about it for about a couple of days and then announced that I wanted an 8" omelet pan and a dust buster. Sure they aren't the most exciting gifts but I had been meaning to pick up those items anyhow and with Bed, Bath, and Beyond within a mile of my parents compound I figured it was an easy, low-maintenance request.
Obviously I wasn't surprised when I went to my parents last night and mom presented me with a set of 10" and 12" frying pans (sans the dust buster). While cracking up with laughter (on the inside of course) I thanked her, ate dinner, and then went to BB & B to exchange it. Best of all I already have the exact same pans she bought me, so I can make a big production over them the next time she comes over for dinner.
Living with my mom for 25 years taught me a lot of valuable lessons that have shaped my personality, such as being annoyingly on-time and sweating the small stuff. As I grow older I've come to realize that my mom is who she is and while mildly irritating at times, it's pretty damn funny if you think about the fights we've had over it (notably the Great Alliance of 1995 when my sisters and dad became a united front when mom dared to bring home generic diet soda because she thought we honest-to-god preferred it over Diet Coke). It makes me realize how lucky I was to have a mom that was always around, and most of all, how badly I never, ever want to have teenaged daughters.
Happy Hanukkah pahkcah02 blog readers. If I have your address you can expect a culturally neutral winter greeting card shortly.
As I got older my frustration turned to acceptance, and then slowly morphed into a source of amusement. It's not that my mom goes out of her way to ignore the details. In fact, from her doing of view she generally thinks that she's doing something good by picking up the wrong flavor yogurt (she wanted some type of pie flavored, right?). Hanukkah rolled around this year and since I genuinely have everything that I need and tons of stuff I don't, I had to rack my brain to come up with a gift. Conversely, the Troll and Pee Wee have been making their lists and checking it twice since Labor Day. When mom asked me what I wanted I had to think about it for about a couple of days and then announced that I wanted an 8" omelet pan and a dust buster. Sure they aren't the most exciting gifts but I had been meaning to pick up those items anyhow and with Bed, Bath, and Beyond within a mile of my parents compound I figured it was an easy, low-maintenance request.
Obviously I wasn't surprised when I went to my parents last night and mom presented me with a set of 10" and 12" frying pans (sans the dust buster). While cracking up with laughter (on the inside of course) I thanked her, ate dinner, and then went to BB & B to exchange it. Best of all I already have the exact same pans she bought me, so I can make a big production over them the next time she comes over for dinner.
Living with my mom for 25 years taught me a lot of valuable lessons that have shaped my personality, such as being annoyingly on-time and sweating the small stuff. As I grow older I've come to realize that my mom is who she is and while mildly irritating at times, it's pretty damn funny if you think about the fights we've had over it (notably the Great Alliance of 1995 when my sisters and dad became a united front when mom dared to bring home generic diet soda because she thought we honest-to-god preferred it over Diet Coke). It makes me realize how lucky I was to have a mom that was always around, and most of all, how badly I never, ever want to have teenaged daughters.
Happy Hanukkah pahkcah02 blog readers. If I have your address you can expect a culturally neutral winter greeting card shortly.
Tuesday, December 4, 2007
While discussing the fact that Red Sox tickets go on sale this week with Nay, Shzaam (who is doing great, btw), and Mama T, Nay mentioned that with the rising cost of tickets that it's almost impossible for a family to attend a game at Fenway. The Red Sox have sold the most expensive tickets in baseball for the past few seasons, with this year's average seat hovering in the $50-range. While tickets in other ball parks are cheaper (and easier) to come by, as a whole watching professional sports live in-person is an expensive endeavor overall.
A lot of my friends are still single and of the ones that are married only a handful have children, none of which are old enough to go to Fenway Park. While certainly not a tiny expense, dropping $100-$150 to see the Sox isn't a budget-breaking activity for most of us childless folks. However, add a family of five into that mix and it's called a car payment. You've gotta wonder if the Sox actually want families to go to the game of if they're merely targeting affluent professionals who have enough disposable income to drop $70 on a ticket and $8 on a beer.
Surely there are plenty of family friendly options, including the Pawtucket Red Sox and Lowell Spinners. However, I for one am not rushing out to drop a couple of Franklins on a Sox four-pack. Incidentally Mama T, who used to drive up from the Cape to wait in line for tickets to go on sale on Yawkey Way isn't falling for it either, despite the fact that she currently lives within spitting distance of the park.
I firmly believe that everyone at some point in their lives should have the opportunity to take in the sites and sounds of one of America's most historical ballparks. But I've been there and done that and see no reason to park my ass in a small fold-out seat, especially when it's so much more fun for me to watch the game with my friends at a bar. With tickets almost impossible to come by, I don't anticipate even having the opportunity to watch the Sox play ball at home. This current seaon Fenway and I will be continuing our complicated relationship via HDTV.
A lot of my friends are still single and of the ones that are married only a handful have children, none of which are old enough to go to Fenway Park. While certainly not a tiny expense, dropping $100-$150 to see the Sox isn't a budget-breaking activity for most of us childless folks. However, add a family of five into that mix and it's called a car payment. You've gotta wonder if the Sox actually want families to go to the game of if they're merely targeting affluent professionals who have enough disposable income to drop $70 on a ticket and $8 on a beer.
Surely there are plenty of family friendly options, including the Pawtucket Red Sox and Lowell Spinners. However, I for one am not rushing out to drop a couple of Franklins on a Sox four-pack. Incidentally Mama T, who used to drive up from the Cape to wait in line for tickets to go on sale on Yawkey Way isn't falling for it either, despite the fact that she currently lives within spitting distance of the park.
I firmly believe that everyone at some point in their lives should have the opportunity to take in the sites and sounds of one of America's most historical ballparks. But I've been there and done that and see no reason to park my ass in a small fold-out seat, especially when it's so much more fun for me to watch the game with my friends at a bar. With tickets almost impossible to come by, I don't anticipate even having the opportunity to watch the Sox play ball at home. This current seaon Fenway and I will be continuing our complicated relationship via HDTV.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
