Well, sort of. Obviously, this blog has become a little stale. I'm sorry, dear follower. But I am still cooking, writing and trying to find love.
And with the new year, there is a new blog:
A year without straight white men.
Enjoy.
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Heart Birth
It's been a long time since I've blogged but today is my birthday and I thought that it would be a nice present to myself to take the time to write here. Well, I also made a crappy gluten-free Betty Crocker chocolate cake with homemade cream cheese frosting and pecans. Good, but embarrassing to admit that I enjoyed (not just eating it, but only taking 5 minutes to make it).
You, dear reader, may be wondering why I haven't been blogging or cooking for guys. I've also been trying to figure that out. The other night I had this realization: I am closed. I don't mean close-minded (although I can be that) or picky (and that too), but I've shut myself off from imagining myself with a lover and I've gotten used to it. It seems impossible to start again. I practically avoid situations where I might even meet someone.
But this was the day that I was born. I'm approaching 30 so, maybe it is time that I give birth. Not birth to a baby or a small, yappy dog, but to me. To my heart.
But this was the day that I was born. I'm approaching 30 so, maybe it is time that I give birth. Not birth to a baby or a small, yappy dog, but to me. To my heart.
Saturday, August 14, 2010
SushiHeart
My Sushi is Your Sushi
When I'm not cooking elaborate meals to entice boys to my house, the kitchen of my apartment becomes the congregation point for me and my roommates. This week one of my roomies organized a sushi night that got out of control.
By the time we used up all the salmon, yellow tail, and eel we had almost twenty rolls of sushi. Other ingredients included teriyaki mushrooms, avocado, green onion, and pickled daikon, which is like a long radish. We also had chilled, creamy sake, of course.
There were only three of us, so all the sushi you see below (plus a few uncut rolls) was totally excessive. But there is nothing like bringing all our disparate lives together through building and rolling raw fish and seaweed.
When I'm not cooking elaborate meals to entice boys to my house, the kitchen of my apartment becomes the congregation point for me and my roommates. This week one of my roomies organized a sushi night that got out of control.
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Dinner 16
Order
It's been much, much too long, all you stomachhearts out there. Apologies for the delays, but life sometimes gets out of order and it takes a little time to get the recipes back together. The updates:
1. got a job
2. stopped dating dinner Guest 14/15
3. dinner Guest 5 sent me this amazing text: Omg. Date just cooked me dinner. "Dinner" = "vegetarian sloppy joes." Vegetarian sloppy joes = microwave leftover rice mixed with ketchup on white bread. Plz blog.
Well, everyone makes mistakes, but this stomachheart finally had another dinner to make up for all the lack of good cooking karma that might have been in the world.
A friend from school asked if he could come to dinner and it seemed like a nice, pleasant, not-too-awkward return to this experiment. I guess I forgot that this guy, a loud, hilarious playwright, always has a few tricks up his sleeve. I suggested he bring wine (not knowing that he didn't drink) and instead he brought me a printout of this photo of me. Then when I served the salad, he suggested we eat it last, it's a British thing, and he's from Canada, after all. And moments before we slurped into the chunky tomato soup with blue cheese, he regaled me with stories of family bowel-movement escapades from his childhood.
Actually, the thing I like most about Guest 16 is his off-kilter humor and ability to make a joke out of any situation, but be gracious and insightful at the same time. It's sometimes difficult to keep up with him though and I found myself finally getting a joke several minutes after the punch or getting all tongue-tied. When I served the asparagus above, he said, "You must not like me too much, you know what asparagus does?" Took me a second but I realized asparagus makes your come taste really bad. How do I even respond to that? Oops!
By the time we got to the out-of-order salad, I saw the more sensitive side to my Guest. He told me about how he has come to terms with the possibility of being single for the rest of his life. This has always seemed like a scary possibility to me, but he has spent a long time "working on me" and making sure that he could live himself. He realized that if it came to that he would be okay. He is happy with who he is. Basically, YOU are the only person you ultimately have to deal with. He, of course, would like to find someone, like all of us, but feeding our own stomachhearts is the priority.
It's been much, much too long, all you stomachhearts out there. Apologies for the delays, but life sometimes gets out of order and it takes a little time to get the recipes back together. The updates:
1. got a job
2. stopped dating dinner Guest 14/15
3. dinner Guest 5 sent me this amazing text: Omg. Date just cooked me dinner. "Dinner" = "vegetarian sloppy joes." Vegetarian sloppy joes = microwave leftover rice mixed with ketchup on white bread. Plz blog.
Well, everyone makes mistakes, but this stomachheart finally had another dinner to make up for all the lack of good cooking karma that might have been in the world.
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
The Fourth of Stomachheart
Divide and Conquer
I feel like the tradition of the 4th of July is based on some dicey situations and some not so friendly history that this great country has been a part of. Regardless, the present celebration is a time where friends and family get together, grill tons of meat, and watch fire explode in the air. Whatever the history and international relations of our wonderful USA, good outdoors cooking can easily make us forget our problems and bring harmony all over the rooftops.
Sausage, sausage, everywhere.
Well, not exactly. Or at least not for me. My roommate and I decided to have a grill-out on our roof and we each invited all of our friends. This quickly led to my inner-self becoming divided into four chambers of my stomachheart. If you thought I got stressed out about having just one guest over for dinner, imagine 20 guests. I felt divided between:
1)entertaining my friends
2)entertaining my roommate's friends
3)making sure the food was coming along
4)and worrying about paying enough attention to my ongoing Dinner Guest (14 and 15).
Homemade guacamole and bottomless sangria.
I suppose it's not that bad, but when you are the host (or co-host, rather) there is a lot of pressure to make sure all of the above things are mixing and getting along well. There is only so much a host can do, but I feel a responsibility for at least trying to get people to talk to each other because I know that I can't be around to do it all the time. The hardest part is balancing friends and new boyfriends. Admittedly, I am not too good at it. I feel like I either have to ignore my friends (while the boy and I have some private time) or shut the boy out of the conversation because my friends and I go way back and always talk about the same thing: writing.
My first ever strawberry-rhubarb pie. I have craved this for years and finally made the recipe from the classic, Joy of Cooking.
So, by the end of the night, we were all on the roof in the cold, cold, fog, watching the fireworks explode all over the city, and I felt totally uncomfortable and drunk. My friends were on one side chatting, but I wasn't able to say much to them because I was pre-occupied with the boy on the other side who seemed to be in a bad mood and whether I was responsible or not, I definitely felt responsible. He wanted to go downstairs because of the cold and then I ditched my friends entirely. And even the rest of the night with the boy was awkward.
I can't even take the credit for this one. My roommate made this amazing flour-less chocolate cake.
Luckily, there is clean up. I ditched everyone to help my roommate put everything away and wash all the dishes. There is something soothing about cleaning. Not only did I wash away all my anxieties about the day, but I cleaned off all the soot that came off of Mission St. and deposited itself on the furniture, food, dishes, and my body. It may seem impossible, but most things that are divided can be glued back together (maybe sometimes in a different configuration) and washed off.
I feel like the tradition of the 4th of July is based on some dicey situations and some not so friendly history that this great country has been a part of. Regardless, the present celebration is a time where friends and family get together, grill tons of meat, and watch fire explode in the air. Whatever the history and international relations of our wonderful USA, good outdoors cooking can easily make us forget our problems and bring harmony all over the rooftops.
Well, not exactly. Or at least not for me. My roommate and I decided to have a grill-out on our roof and we each invited all of our friends. This quickly led to my inner-self becoming divided into four chambers of my stomachheart. If you thought I got stressed out about having just one guest over for dinner, imagine 20 guests. I felt divided between:
1)entertaining my friends
2)entertaining my roommate's friends
3)making sure the food was coming along
4)and worrying about paying enough attention to my ongoing Dinner Guest (14 and 15).
I suppose it's not that bad, but when you are the host (or co-host, rather) there is a lot of pressure to make sure all of the above things are mixing and getting along well. There is only so much a host can do, but I feel a responsibility for at least trying to get people to talk to each other because I know that I can't be around to do it all the time. The hardest part is balancing friends and new boyfriends. Admittedly, I am not too good at it. I feel like I either have to ignore my friends (while the boy and I have some private time) or shut the boy out of the conversation because my friends and I go way back and always talk about the same thing: writing.
So, by the end of the night, we were all on the roof in the cold, cold, fog, watching the fireworks explode all over the city, and I felt totally uncomfortable and drunk. My friends were on one side chatting, but I wasn't able to say much to them because I was pre-occupied with the boy on the other side who seemed to be in a bad mood and whether I was responsible or not, I definitely felt responsible. He wanted to go downstairs because of the cold and then I ditched my friends entirely. And even the rest of the night with the boy was awkward.
Luckily, there is clean up. I ditched everyone to help my roommate put everything away and wash all the dishes. There is something soothing about cleaning. Not only did I wash away all my anxieties about the day, but I cleaned off all the soot that came off of Mission St. and deposited itself on the furniture, food, dishes, and my body. It may seem impossible, but most things that are divided can be glued back together (maybe sometimes in a different configuration) and washed off.
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Stomachheart Eats Pride
Pride is History
As you, dear reader, probably know, this past weekend was Gay Pride in many cities across the country including my little place of residence, San Francisco. I made it a point to go to as many events as I could, from the TransMarch to Dykes on Bikes and even to a performance by the Backstreet Boys on Sunday. This year, the theme was "Fabulous and 40" commemorating the 40th anniversary of the event. This, of course, made me think of history and how Pride has a way of digging up the past and presenting it to you as if it were yesterday. And I don't mean it makes me remember all those queer legends and heroes that came before to make Pride possible.
Necessities: What better to way to brave a very hot and crowded Dolores Park on Pink Saturday than with a cheap bottle of chilled Chardonnay and some reduced fat pita chips. I, of course, brought a classy little cup to keep the festivities green.
The history I'm thinking of is more personal. For me, and I think for many queers in the city, Pride is the inevitable time when you are bound to take the long parade past many of the people that you've hooked up with. Sometimes this city is too small and there are just too many skeletons in the closet (or out of it actually).
By the end of Pride, it felt like I had made dinner for half of the gay men in the city. At the Pink Party, I barely just said "hi" and "happy pride" to Dinner Guest 11, when I ran into and did the same thing all over again with Dinner Guest 2. Literally within 1 minute of each other. Awkward... I wonder what would happen if two of my Dinner Guests met. Would they cancel each other out? Would they join forces and fight me? Would they fall in love?
Then on Pride Sunday, I narrowly escaped an encounter with Dinner Guest 1. I totally dove behind a crowd of shirtless leathermen just, so I didn't have to have another awkward hello and happy pride. And then, of course, the Monday after Pride, I ran into Dinner Guest 12 who actually took the day off as a paid religious holiday (Q: Do you believe in God? A: No, just Gay). Also very awkward because I ran away after 5 minutes. Sometimes it's just too much. Sadly, he actually witnessed the shooting that happened at the Pink Party. I guess there are more important things to worry about then the boys from my past. Hopefully next Pride will not only be fun as it always is, but safe for everyone, too.
My friends totally showed up my meager Pride snacks with lots of delicious offerings from Bi-Rite: beet and sweet potato salad, organic peaches, chocolate mousse, spinach and artichoke dip, and some yummy cheese.
The one dinner guest that I wish I had run into at Pride is Dinner Guest 14. Unfortunately he was out of town and I had to go the whole weekend without even a very proud snuggle.
As you, dear reader, probably know, this past weekend was Gay Pride in many cities across the country including my little place of residence, San Francisco. I made it a point to go to as many events as I could, from the TransMarch to Dykes on Bikes and even to a performance by the Backstreet Boys on Sunday. This year, the theme was "Fabulous and 40" commemorating the 40th anniversary of the event. This, of course, made me think of history and how Pride has a way of digging up the past and presenting it to you as if it were yesterday. And I don't mean it makes me remember all those queer legends and heroes that came before to make Pride possible.
The history I'm thinking of is more personal. For me, and I think for many queers in the city, Pride is the inevitable time when you are bound to take the long parade past many of the people that you've hooked up with. Sometimes this city is too small and there are just too many skeletons in the closet (or out of it actually).
Then on Pride Sunday, I narrowly escaped an encounter with Dinner Guest 1. I totally dove behind a crowd of shirtless leathermen just, so I didn't have to have another awkward hello and happy pride. And then, of course, the Monday after Pride, I ran into Dinner Guest 12 who actually took the day off as a paid religious holiday (Q: Do you believe in God? A: No, just Gay). Also very awkward because I ran away after 5 minutes. Sometimes it's just too much. Sadly, he actually witnessed the shooting that happened at the Pink Party. I guess there are more important things to worry about then the boys from my past. Hopefully next Pride will not only be fun as it always is, but safe for everyone, too.
The one dinner guest that I wish I had run into at Pride is Dinner Guest 14. Unfortunately he was out of town and I had to go the whole weekend without even a very proud snuggle.
Thursday, June 17, 2010
Dinner 15
Distractions
It's really hard to cook when you are doing even one of these things:
a) stressing out about job decisions
b) stressing out about how the decisions you make now will affect you in the future
c) stressing out about keeping in touch with friends with busy schedules
d) starting to date someone
It's especially hard to cook when you are doing all of those things. And it's even harder to eat what you've cooked. Even though I am e) all of the above, luckily, I'm not having that problem. I've been cooking every night (but just for myself) and eating heartily. The problem is what follows eating. Stress really fucks up your stomach. My stomach grumbles and sucks in on itself and bloats out to prego point and then flips over and I pretty much want to vom when I think of the life choices I need to make.
A salad with carrots, broccoli, arugala, and jicama. For dressing, we loaded on scoops of TJ's White Bean Hummus.
Fortunately there is d). And d) happens to be Dinner 14's guest. After Vermont, we started hanging out periodically and things have progressed slowly but surely. Usually when I start to date someone, I totally stress about how much they like me, or if they like me at all, or what I should do when they do this, or what I should do when they do that. With Dinner 14, it's different. We only get to see each other about once a week, but when we do, we have a really good time, biking around, giggling like little girls, and eating, of course. There's no pressure because we seem to be on the same, unspoken page.
Paninis with grilled portabella mushrooms, red peppers, onions, and zucchini with goat cheese.
Recently we hung out at Lake Merced and then went to the ocean way out there. It's weird because the road along the ocean is barricaded and sand has blown over a lot of it. It kind of looks like the end of the world, especially when it's deserted and you just walk down the center of the road. But it's nice when you have someone's hand to hold.
Sweet potato fries and a random picture of a dog that Dinner 14 picked up on the street.
After our journey to the end of the world we cooked together, this time at his place. It always makes me nervous to cook in other people's territory, especially this time because his kitchen is really small and he has few utensils and dishes. But somehow we managed okay and even made a lemon cake that came out really weird, because we had to stir it in the same square pan that we baked it in. I guess amid all the chaos in a kitchen or in our lives, we find a way to make do with the things that do make sense.
It's really hard to cook when you are doing even one of these things:
a) stressing out about job decisions
b) stressing out about how the decisions you make now will affect you in the future
c) stressing out about keeping in touch with friends with busy schedules
d) starting to date someone
Fortunately there is d). And d) happens to be Dinner 14's guest. After Vermont, we started hanging out periodically and things have progressed slowly but surely. Usually when I start to date someone, I totally stress about how much they like me, or if they like me at all, or what I should do when they do this, or what I should do when they do that. With Dinner 14, it's different. We only get to see each other about once a week, but when we do, we have a really good time, biking around, giggling like little girls, and eating, of course. There's no pressure because we seem to be on the same, unspoken page.
Recently we hung out at Lake Merced and then went to the ocean way out there. It's weird because the road along the ocean is barricaded and sand has blown over a lot of it. It kind of looks like the end of the world, especially when it's deserted and you just walk down the center of the road. But it's nice when you have someone's hand to hold.
After our journey to the end of the world we cooked together, this time at his place. It always makes me nervous to cook in other people's territory, especially this time because his kitchen is really small and he has few utensils and dishes. But somehow we managed okay and even made a lemon cake that came out really weird, because we had to stir it in the same square pan that we baked it in. I guess amid all the chaos in a kitchen or in our lives, we find a way to make do with the things that do make sense.
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