Let's Have Some Frills

We have begun the Stuffed Eggs section of A Book of Hors d'Oeuvre and I couldn't be happier.

We all know that I love to make deviled eggs. A little bite of filling receptive to any spice you mix it with, held preciously in an edible boat? Uh, yeah. What's not to like? I am, however, relatively set in my ways when it comes to deviling eggs. I have a certain set of ingredients that rotate around each other that are usually on-hand because this keeps my life simple and simplicity is important to me.

A Renewed Enthusiasm

With all the injuries, moving apartments, crazy heat waves and other life-craziness, A Book of Hors d'Oeuvres and I took a little hiatus from each other. However, the weather has already begun to cool down - although my heart will not let me totally admit that it is already happening - and my stomach has begun to agree to let me put more than gazpacho and Mexican beer in it. Which brings us back, as ever, to where we started: more cream cheese.

Hog Wild

Let's talk briefly about Kirby psychosis. This is something that takes over my brain each summer around the time these little pickling cucumbers hit the market. Let it suffice to say; shit gets real.

A good friend of mine recently tweeted, “I don’t use the term “hog wild” lightly. Let’s just say there were Kirbys at the farmers market and leave it at that.”

The Rhythm of Lunch

I often find myself having the conversation about how hard it is to make adult friends. No one is ever totally sure why it feels creepy to ask someone out on a friend-date for the first time, but everyone is sure that it does. I have a few theories, the most sentient one so far being that as a kid and a teenager, you are unburdened by self-consciousness and only have to know that you like the same things as that person likes. There's no question of how your overture will be received or if the resulting friend-date will be awkward as hell. When you are kids, if someone doesn't want to be friends with you, they will probably either not talk to you in the first place or just throw rocks at you when you walk down the street. Our carefully cultivated ability to smile-and-nod, something we work on to set others at ease even when we are not, ultimately serves only to foster doubt about whether or not a potential new friend is genuinely interested in getting to know us.

via Flickr

Sometimes I'm afraid I'm the only one who thinks things like this. I suspect, however, that I am not alone. Luckily, we've found the salve: meals. And when the adult friends in question also happen to be co-workers, the salve, more specifically, is lunch.

And Then Sometimes Corn Makes You Laugh

via Eatocracy

 I can't say with any kind of certainty that any first line of an article about growing your own corn has ever, or will ever again, make me laugh this hard.

"This morning, I stood on my roof deck and made my African Guinea Flint corn have sex with itself."

 I am clearly the target audience for this kind of joke, and for the thoughtful, nicely written article that follows. Corn really gets a bad rap in my brain, based on its sheer saturation of our daily diet. To hear someone talk lovingly about raising heritage kernels from the ground up is a nice change of pace. And to see a corn-banging joke on Eatocracy sort of makes my heart swell up with pride. Way to go, ladies. Click over here to read it!

On Treading Water and Bulgarian Feta

A few quick notes.

1) Moving is crazy.

2) Do not get sick or hurt, ever.

So, we're treading water a bit. Having just recovered from an apartment move and with my Sidekick on the mend from a herniated disc, the food we've been putting in our faces has relied largely on the two following principles: how quickly can I do this, and with how little heat?

Which is where Bulgarian feta comes into the picture.

Oh, Hey June.

I promise that I did not stop eating. Or talking about it. Or taking pictures of the things I ultimately eat. Here's proof.

Remind me that we need to have a long conversation about shrimp rolls.

Here is what is happening: we're moving! Not very far, still in Brooklyn, but it requires that we pack up all our - you know - shit. And then take it somewhere else. To cook more. And take more pictures. And stuff our faces and those of the ones we love. July is going to be filled with posts. Promise. For now, please give me ideas of things I can make for dinner that don't require heat.

Also, the McSwayze family made the Huffington Post food page! Check us out here. 

In Case You Are Melting

I joked with my sidekick last night (I wasn't joking) that we've reached the the part of the year where all I want to drink is Mexican beer. The only beer I will fruit - just shove a lime in a Pacifico and send me on my way. I have to admit, when I said that, I'd momentarily forgotten about this bad boy. Allow me to introduce you to the Pucker Up.

If those straws do not make you swoon, you may want to check your pulse.