By DesiValentine4 on January 07, 2012
We all know I'm an emotional eater. Greasy popcorn, you say? Yes, please! Chocolate anything? Oh, hell yeah! Food prepared by someone else, who then clears the table and washes the dishes? (*swoons*) That might be more than I can take. But I am always willing to give it a try.
That's right. I'm tough like that.
My doctor's office called this morning to tell me there is nothing structurally wrong with my knee. The MRI scan is clean, showing some swelling and inflammation, but no significant tears, erosions or arthritis.
Sure. Except that my knee still hurts, and continues to frustrate my ability to live my life like an active, healthy adult. Except that if I had a tear, laparoscopic surgeons could make a little incision, then use their tiny laser to trim off the hurty bits, and I could get back to training within about six weeks. SIX WEEKS!
Instead, I get to wait. Again. To see my doctor and then to see a sport injury specialist and then to figure out where I go from here.
So, while I polish off this slice of chocolate cake and brick of walnut fudge (thanks, PW!), feel free to view the made-by-others noms I've enjoyed recently.
This one came from Pizza Hut – Don't judge. I had a coupon! – and was accompanied by a plastic tub of "marinara sauce" for dipping. Processed mozzerella cheese and processed ham cubes folded into the sweetest pizza crust I've ever tasted, sprinkled with a dry herb blend and grated parmesan.... Yeah, it tasted about as good as it looks. Like the burgers I ate at 3am during my bar star days in Banff, these are probably best suited for drunken consumption. Don't try this sober. Just don't.
Let me tell you, I was more than a little skeptical when the waitress brought me breaded fish. I mean, aren't fish tacos supposed to have, you know, bits of fish in it? Like the ground beef in a traditional taco, except, you know, not beef? Evidently, Moxie's Restaurant disagrees, as this white fish was marinated in lime, then tempura battered and deep fried, before joining that lovely smear of chipotle guacamole, avacado chunks, sweet onion and red bell pepper in a toasted flour tortilla. So GOOD!!! Dripping-down-my-arm-but-I-don't-care good. I-can't-possibly-eat-all-of-this-but-I-will-do-it-anyway good. THAT good!
And before the fish tacos? I had this:
Which is easily the best tomato soup I have ever had, ever in my life. Even better than my own homemade roasted tomato soup – a situation that MUST be remedied.
We are always hesitant about bringing the kids to restaurants without children's menus. I called Earl's ahead of time to ensure they were welcome, chatted with the host about the availability of booster seats and extra plates, briefly considered ordering pizza. And then just headed over there.
I am so glad we did.
Reason number one? That sandwich is divine. DIVINE! Even for someone like me, who doesn't particularly like brie or figs or white bread. All of them together turned into something wonderful and I absolutely must eat it again. Immediately. Reason number two? The starter-sized servings they suggest for kids are WAY too large. Which means that when my daughter ordered this:
I got to eat
most half of it. Chicken chunks marinated in tomato and mild chilis, served in a toasted soft tortilla with chopped fresh cilantro, avocado corn salsa, jalapeno jack cheese and salsa fresca with hot sauce on the side. (Nom nom nom.) Imagine my disappointment when my daughter muscled through one third of her plate and turned her nose up at the rest. Poor ME! I traded my fries for her extra taco and we were both happy girls.
During our annual New Year's Day dinner, my in-laws served up veggie antipasto and glazed herb pork paté as hors d'oeuvres. Ordinarily, I would've gone right for the chips, but this is supposed to be about trying new things, right? I bellied up to the serving spoons, toasted rounds and dollops of yum. (Though I wasn't quite coarse enough to whip out my phone and snap photos. I save that bit of class for fine dining only.)
The antipasto is very sweet. Like hamburger relish, though the olive slices lent a bit of a savoury finish, as did the baguette. The paté was salty and smooth, yummy on a cracker (though my son elected to eschew the cracker for his fingers, and then waved his meaty fist at me in distress). We have a recipe around here somewhere for authentic Mediterranean antipasto. I suspect it might taste better fresh.
Thirty-four foods in, I am still icing my knee and still eating cake. Tomorrow, I'll find my big girl panties and stop all this tiresome whining. Today?
I have cake.
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