You okay, honey?

Remember back in the good ol' days when Sharon Stone was a respected actress?

Neither do I.

Rachael Ray - Who died and made you Oprah?

Being sick sucks. I've been feeling sous-les-temps for the better part of a week, and it sucks. I've been drudging through the majority of my classes, skipping those I find less worthy, and spending the rest of the day how I please. Having little energy, "how I please" usually involves food and television. Any combination of food and television usually involves Rachael Ray in some capacity.

I love Rachael Ray. Every day, this woman makes an indelible impression on the legacy of cooking shows, and food in general - I myself own several of her cookbooks. I have yet to use them, but I own them and that is what counts. Rachael Ray has made cooking fashionable, and that is always a good thing. Who doesn't love a delicious and easy 30-minute meal?

Lately, Ms. Ray has gone a bit overboard. Rach launched The Rachael Ray Show, an Oprah-like show where Rachael interviews celebrities and discusses weighty issues (Mena Suvari and teenage plastic surgery on the episode I witnessed) and follows up with a quick and easy 15-minute-meal. What reason does she have to do this? I was satisfied having Rachael teach me how to cook quickly and eat on a budget. It seems now that I have to deal with her doling out life advice as well.

This is Rachael's world. We just live in it.

This is for Andy.

Hey Andy. I'm pretty sure you're the only person that reads this. You complained that I don't update enough.

Since I really have nothing to say that is both impersonal and insightful, this is the extent of my post.

You're welcome.

I am hungry. I am incorrigible. I am man.

I can't say I really understand how certain foods have been given gender. How, exactly, did the term "chick food" come about? What is it about tofu and sushi that screams woman?

I just saw the Burger King "Manthem" commercial again in which a young man ditches his hot girlfriend at an upscale bistro and storms out onto the street where he is joined by a screaming horde of men extolling the virtues of being a primitive carnivore, in song - of course. I first saw this commercial late last summer and remember being slightly amused. In the past few weeks, this commercial has been stalking me. It seems like Comedy Central (the station of choice in my apartment) runs the spot every other commercial break. In case you haven't seen it yet, I present it to you now for your viewing...pleasure:



The commercial harks back to a time when men were required to hunt down their food. In those ancient times, a man's worth was determined by his skills as a hunter. That was man's ultimate concern. In those days, eating quiche would mean you could not make the kill to provide for your family. Understandably, quiche would have been an emasculating entree in those days.

However, in this modern day of instant gratification, man no longer has to chase down and kill his dinner. Choosing to eat quiche should be of little relevance to a man's masculinity. Man can just as easily throw some steak on the grill once he finishes his delicious quiche. I see no reason why he would, as quiche is quite filling - but I'm trying to make a point. Choice of entree should not reflect on manliness in our society. A double whopper is not a reward for the long and grueling hunt to kill that cow. Man should not be rewarded for driving up to a window and whipping out a credit card. If a man is expending such little effort to procure his meal, he can suck it up and eat quiche.

For all you manly men out there - a challenge.

YELLOW SQUASH AND MOZZARELLA QUICHE WITH FRESH THYME Recipe at Epicurious.com

As I sit here in the kitchen...

I spend a lot of time in the kitchen.

I get bored often. Saturday was a boring day for me, so, as I often do when bored, I retreated to the kitchen. I wasn't feeling all that hungry, but the boredom was strong enough to pull me towards the oven. I had a lot of old food that I needed to get rid of - things I feared would turn foul if I let them stay in my pantry one minute more. There was a particular item in the pantry that I felt calling out to me. This lonely soul had been sitting under boxes of tea and macaroni for far too long. It appeared I would be cooking myself some tuna.

I didn't exactly know what to do with the tuna. I knew I wanted to cook. I didn't want to simply throw the tuna in a salad or a trashcan. I needed to get my creative juices flowing so I pulled out a teflon skillet. I know that teflon has been under some real heat lately for being potentially toxic. I'm a daring guy so I decided to take a risk and use it anyway.

I turned on the stove and threw the tuna on the skillet with some Extra-Virgin Olive Oil (or EVOO if you're a follower of Rachael "I'm the second coming of Martha" Ray). The tuna started browning - well, graying. I was not sure exactly what my next step should be. Taking a quick sweep of the refrigerator, I spotted the mayonnaise and thought it might make things interesting. Interesting, indeed. Upon hitting the skillet, the mayonnaise started a beautiful dance with the small bits of once-gigantic fish (see picture). This game of footsy turned into a lovely tuna paste of sorts - a beautiful thing.

I could have called it quits right then, seeing as I had a lovely tuna paste simmering in my skillet. Something told me I was not yet finished. There was another lost soul calling out from the cabinet - cream corn. [Cream corn? Really?] Yes. Really. I discovered that tuna and corn blend delightfully. The cream corn picked up the dance where the fish bits and processed egg whites left off, whipping the whole dance floor [read: skillet] into a frenzy.

So here I had this gorgeous tunacorn pasty thing. Now what the heck to do with it?

Wrap it.

Wraps are quite delicious, I suggest you add them to your diet.

Appletini's Gorgeous Tunacorn Pasty Thing
-1 can chunk-light tuna
-1/4 can cream corn
-2 tbsp. mayonnaise
-app. 2 tsp. EVOO (just eyeball it)

Directions: Go crazy.

An Introduction

I was once told that it's better to stay silent and be thought an idiot than speak and remove all doubt.

I personally find that to be a rather inane piece of advice.

Love me or hate me - this is who I am.

I hope you love me, because chances are I love you.