Nice to meat you

I have always had a volatile relationship with meat. When I was still a very small child I remember "seeing" blood in my campbell's chicken noodle soup chicken bits (I'm sure that I didn't really, but it freaked me out just the same). I still don't eat them to this day. Soup meat is on my unsafe meat list, along with most cold cuts, fried chicken, chicken sandwiches in restaurants, sausage, fatty meat pieces, and canned meats (usually including tuna).

However, the real winning point for vegetarianism happened when I was 14 and my relationship with eating meat was changed forever. One evening while eating dinner at a friends house I made the mistake of grabbing a slice of roast that contained a major artery. The artery provided two purposes; one was to provide the departed cow with nutrients, the other simultaneously provided me with a fear of meat products for the next 4 years, one that still pops up like a bad case of acne to this day.

The problem was that the artery was not a skinny vein that could be dealt with, it was thick at the bottom and branched out like a tree, hogging the whole slice of roast. The shock of seeing something like that in my food sent a reaction that probably doesn't have a medical term but is similar to the 5 steps of grieving (but with a twist):

Denial: Whoa, is that a vein? No, that is an elaborate piece of fat. Shoot, that's a vein. Wait, no, it's something else. Gag.
Anger: Out of the 20 pieces of roast how come I got the freaky piece?! Honestly, anyone else would have been fine with it, but nooo, I'm the one that has to get it. Meat is gross! I hate my life! Gag.
Bargaining: Ok, look, if I turn the piece over maybe we can just forget about it. Yea, that would work, right? I don't want to hate meat, I'll do anything. Gag.
Depression: I probably deserved this to happen. I think I just need to sleep this off. Gag.
Acceptance: Ok, there is a nasty vein in my meat. I have two options; take this like a champ and suck it up, or go without meat indefinitely. Gag. Go without meat indefinitely it is.

Now just add in some hot flashes, a few badly concealed gags that took place under the table (while I pretended to get something out of my purse), and a near miss for passing out and you get the picture.

However, after 4 years I realized that I couldn't go without meat forever and I slowly added it back into my diet. All was going good until last monday when I had a repeat offense, but this time in my steak at Applebee's.

Jarom's parents had offered to take everyone out to eat and it had been decided that Applebee's was the place to go. I was on the fence on whether to order the fiesta lime chicken, or a steak like everyone else. In a moment of peer pressure I opted for the steak. Oh, how I wish I had resisted because what I got was not edible.

When the steaks came they were sizzling, a good sign right? I had ordered mine medium-well and wasn't surprised to find my steak was medium to medium-rare in the center, but that was something I could deal with. What I couldn't deal with was the 2 rubbery veins that remained uncut even though I had cut clear through the rest of my steak with my knife. How does that happen by the way? How can you cut through a whole steak with your knife but not get through the veins? Anyhow, that should have been my red light indicator but I'd dealt with a few measly veins before and I was trying to become tougher about eating meat.

I worked around them, making a Picasso of my steak by cutting random geometrical shapes off places that seemed safe. And then it happened. I cut the back of my steak and found a cluster of veins, a cluster that resembled california freeways running together, a cluster that was the thickness of a pencil. I kid you not.

Hot flash! Slowly I pushed my steak back together to conceal my discovery. Then I leaned my head back and took a few deep breaths so that I wouldn't share my already consumed salad with everyone at the table.

"What's wrong." Jarom asks after I dramatically gag.
"My steak." I gasp.
"What about it?" He questions me again.
"There is a vein." I stage whisper.
"So?" He asks.
"No," I say, "There is a VEIN. Like a big one. Like an artery."

At this point I have everyone at the tables attention.

"Let me see." Jarom says and then pulls my steak apart. Like a bungee cord the other side of the steak snaps across my plate to the one that Jarom has just dragged forward. "It's fat. Just eat around it." He says.
"Are you kidding me?" I ask him. "That is a vein! There is no way I'm going to eat that..."
"Let me see," Kim asks. I hand the steak over and she prods the steak like an expert coroner. "That's definitely a vein."
"What's wrong?" Craig asks. "Did you get the varicose special?"

Hot flash! I lean my head on Jarom and fight the nausea.
"You should make a little R.I.P. stone for him out of your potato skin." Jarom's brother Tyler adds.
"Hey," Jarom says as he picks the steak up and swings it around on the vein, the two pieces swinging wildly like nunchucks. "You can play tetherball with it."
Gag, Hot flash!

"Ok, ok, ok, you guys. Seriously, I'm going to throw up." I say, my eyes watering from the effort of holding my nausea in. I'm starting to perspire. I keep having to take deep breaths and I'm sure I'm going to lose it if I see anyone else playing with my steak.

At this moment the waiter comes over. "How is everything going?" He asks.
"Something is up with my steak." I tell him
"Does it need more cooking?" He asks concerned.
"Well, it's very rare in the center, but mostly there is a gigantic vein running through it."
"I'm so sorry about that." He answers horrified, "we can cook it more and de-vein it for you if you'd like."

Pause. Ok, waiter's tip: If you have to use the word de-vein in any speech to a table in the course of an evening than something is very wrong. NEVER say the word de-vein in a restaurant, that is just nasty.

Un-pause. His helpful suggestion is just too much for me and I lean my head on Jarom and take a few deep breaths. When I finally regain composure I ask him to just remove it from the bill. He takes my steak to show the kitchen crew and gags when I show him my not-so-little vein buddy first.
Meanwhile everyone feels bad for me that I'm only eating the baked potato he leaves and offers me bites of their steak which is about the last thing on earth I'm wanting at the moment.

As we're leaving Craig says "You should have asked him for a body bag, I mean a doggy bag."

A body bag would have been the right thing to request. I guess I'll put the breaks on eating steaks for a while but that experience was close to making me a vegetarian again. That was a near miss for Jarom, because me as a vegetarian would make him a very sad man.

Dead locked

I have nothing to write about. The things that I could write about I'm just not feeling funny enough to do justice. I need some kids to post pictures about, a job where I am talking to random humorous people, chance encounters with interesting characters who give me blog fodder. The problem is that I sit in this room as useless as a human log. I don't feel like taking pictures of myself seeing that I feel as big as a house but a blog with no pictures is not really a blog.

Do you have any suggestions? I'm all out.

Seeing Red

A typical checklist for a big event goes something like this:
Pretty new clothes
Fabulous hair cut
Flattering makeup
Sexy shoes
Bloody zombie-esque eye
New jewelry

Now I gather that most people don't stock up on each of these items before a big day; some people already have the great hair, or the perfect makeup, but it's hard to find the bloody eye. Thankfully I acquired one before both of my events that required good looks; my wedding and my one humorous attempt at American Idol (a blog to follow this confession that I swore I would take to my grave to come shortly). It went down like so:

Five days before the wedding:
Jarom and I are sitting in our Italian Language class joking around. Something strikes me as extremely funny, in fact so funny that I bang my head with excessive gusto against the wall behind me when I throw back my head to get out a really good laugh. After seeing stars for a second I groan an "owww" which of course Jarom finds hilarious.

Four days before the wedding:
In Nordstom's I am viewing the jewelry counter, looking for a gorgeous bracelet or earrings to wear with my wedding dress. As I look down Jarom gasps loudly and says, "What is on your eye!?"
"What do you mean, what is on my eye?" I ask panicked
"There's...like...blood, on your eye..." Jarom answers, his face contorted in fear and intrigue. I can tell that even though this freaks him out, he also thinks it's kinda cool.
I look in the mirror but don't see anything, although I now notice that my eye feels like there is a small grain of sand when I close it. Jarom gently pulls up on my eyelid and reveals what he's just discovered. A bloody massive hemorrhage on my eyeball that looks like my eye has exploded from the inside out. Shoot!
"What is that?" I ask in a heightened whisper, then draw attention by crying. "Get it off!"

When I arrive home I quickly call the doctors and set up an appointment. The next day is the earliest I can get in and I'm sure I am dying slowly while I wait to see someone. The rest of the day is spent staring into the mirror while mentally composing my will. Mozart's "requiem for a dream" is playing hauntingly in the background for my tragic demise.

Three days before the wedding:
In the doctor's office Dr. so and so informs me that I am not in fact dying, but rather I have sustained my gory eye from a head injury.
"Have you been hit in the head?" He asks, while eying Jarom who is looking baffled.
"No." I answer.
"You haven't had any blunt trauma to the head?" He coaxes again.
Ah, now I remember. I guess slamming my head into the wall would count, but I'm certainly not going to admit that. How does one admit that after laughing like a wild hyena they slammed their head into the wall with enough force that it broke a blood vessel, without looking like an idiot? Better to remain silent.
"Nope." I respond.
Jarom moves to interrupt and offer my embarrassing moment as an explanation for my crazy eye that is now becoming more visible by the hour. I reward him with an icy bloody stare that would send chills to the most stout hearted, since it now is the epitome of the evil eye in it's finest. A baby cries on the next room.
I then ask in order to change the subject, "How long will it take to go away?"
"Well," he answers, "it should start moving down the eye and eventually be absorbed back into the body. It will be totally gone in about five days"
Excuse me, I'm getting married in three...

Day of wedding:
My eye has absorbed most of the blood, but just like the good doctor said I have specks of blood that have moseyed on down to visible level, and my eye is now pink with yellow and red spots. Classy. Thankfully you can't tell in my pictures except that one of my eyes looks a bit dark. I prefer to think that I'm brooding in those pictures... in one eye...

Dealing with guests is a bit different. Most people expect a bright eyed bride, not a bright red eyed bride. Most of the day is spent talking to people who don't know me but look cross-eyed at my frightening eye as we converse than back away slowly as they leave. I'm sure they fear that I have picked up a new form of rabies and don't want to turn their back on me. For the first time in my life I wish I had a gigantic chest so there was something else for them to look at while we talk. Unfortunately I don't and I must resist the urge to bite people.

Since this blog is getting long I will cut to the chase on the American Idol story:

First- you know that myth about closing your eyes when you sneeze and how your eyeballs will pop out if you keep them open? It's true. I am proof.

Five days before Jarom and I drove down to San Francisco for American Idol, I made the mistake of driving on a windy freeway when I had to sneeze. I was afraid that in the four seconds it took to sneeze someone would slam on their breaks and I would ultimately die in a car wreck. So instead of closing my eyes like a proper person, I kept them a crack open and went to town with my sneeze. Disaster averted I arrived to work safely only to discover in the bathroom at work that my eye had exploded this time in a very visible spot. Oh fabulous!



Needless to say, the lady who judged me was frightened, I did not make American Idol and I received stares for 2 weeks until this stubborn explosion disappeared. So as a friendly reminder I leave with you two words of advice:
Don't sneeze with your eyes open
If you must throw your head back when you laugh please make sure that you are in an open area where head banging will not occur.

Good luck.

Writing/ Indian Dishes

I have had the hardest time writing a blog lately. Most of my blogs are written about humor but what do you write about when you are not feeling so funny? In fact, more frustrated than funny. Sorry for the delay in writing, I'm sure I'll think of funny things to write about, I've experienced a few lately but I'm just not in the mood. So instead I will write about something I am very passionate about. Food!

This is a fabulous Indian food recipe that I made Jarom for Valentine's Day. Tikka Masala is our absolute favorite indian dish, along with hot chewy naan bread. When we found this recipe with a little tweaking it was exactly like the restaurant we use to visit at BYU and we were so excited it turned out the same. Please excuse the bad photography skills, the pictures look like a cheap restaurant, but since that was what I was attempting to do, it almost works. Almost.

Chicken Tikka Masala

1 cup yogurt
1 tablespoon lemon juice
2 teaspoons ground cumin
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
2 teaspoons cayenne pepper
2 teaspoons freshly ground black pepper
1 tablespoon minced fresh ginger
1 teaspoon salt, or to taste
3 boneless skinless chicken breasts, cut into bite-size pieces
4 long skewers

2 tablespoons butter
2 cloves garlic, minced
2 jalapeno peppers, finely chopped
4 teaspoons ground cumin
4 teaspoons paprika
2 teaspoons tikka masala spice mix
½ teaspoon salt
1 (15 ounce) can tomato sauce
2 cups heavy cream
1/2 cup chopped fresh cilantro


In a large bowl, combine yogurt, lemon juice, 2 teaspoons cumin, cinnamon, cayenne, black pepper, ginger, and 1 teaspoon salt. Stir in chicken, cover, and refrigerate for at least 1 hour.

Preheat a grill for high heat or an oven to 450 degrees.

Lightly oil the grill grate. Thread chicken onto skewers, and discard marinade. Grill until juices run clear, about 5 minutes on each side. Or put chicken on skewers propped over a casserole dish in a 450 degree oven.

Melt butter in a large heavy skillet over medium heat. Saute garlic and jalapenos for 1 minute. Season with 4 teaspoons cumin, paprika, and ½ tsp salt. Stir in tomato sauce, cream and cilantro. Simmer on low heat until sauce thickens, about 20 minutes. Add grilled chicken, and simmer for 10 minutes. Transfer to a serving platter.




Naan

1 (.25 ounce) package active dry yeast
1 cup warm water
¼ cup white sugar
3 tablespoons milk
1 egg, beaten
2 teaspoons salt
½ tsp baking soda
3- 3 1/2 cups bread flour
¼ cup butter, melted

In a large bowl, dissolve yeast in warm water, with one tbsp. of the sugar. Let stand about 10 minutes, until frothy.

Stir in remaining sugar, milk, egg, salt, and enough flour to make a soft dough. Knead for 6 to 8 minutes on a lightly floured surface, or until smooth.

Place dough in a well oiled bowl, cover with a damp cloth, and set aside to rise. Let it rise 1 hour, until the dough has doubled in volume.

Punch down dough. Pinch off small handfuls of dough about the size of a golf ball. Roll into balls, and place on a tray. Cover with a towel, and allow to rise until doubled in size, about 30 minutes.

During the second rising, preheat grill to high heat.

At grill side, roll one ball of dough out into a thin circle. Lightly oil grill or skillet. Place dough on grill, and cook for 2 to 3 minutes, or until puffy and lightly browned.

Brush uncooked side with butter, and turn over. Brush cooked side with butter, and cook until browned, another 2 to 4 minutes. Remove from grill, and continue the process until all the naan has been prepared.