not falling down

I spent three years working at Trover and bringing my lunch in a plastic bag. These lunches invariably contained sandwiches on whole-wheat bread, and though I went through phases regarding the filling (tuna, peanut butter and jelly, peanut butter and pickle), I generally came back to slices of turkey, on romaine lettuce or “spring mix,” with mayonnaise.

Now, I started working from home every day nine months ago, leaving me a bit at a loss. The constraints on my lunch (must tolerate refrigeration, must fit into reusable containers, must be edible on a half-hour break) were suddenly removed, but I continued to act as if they were still in place. I put things on a plate and I sliced up the apple.

Then I moved to London and found analogs to the American lunch ingredients, and still kept eating the same lunch. Admittedly, some of this was a comfort-familiarity ritual, but I’m past that now and it’s about time lunch and I started mixing it up.

To wit: this week I bought some French bread, and salami, and a tomato. I have blown my own mind. I am tossed amidst the shattering waves like driftwood in the brainstorms this has unleashed! On the ocean, I guess! In the metaphor!

So salami and turkey taste good together, especially on crusty bread. Would you like me to share with you some of the other revolutionary sandwich innovations/relevations? Innelvations? Revolevinnotrons.

• Using pepperoni instead of salami
• Toasting the bread
• Cutting it in half, for greater ease of gripping
• Cutting it in half diagonally
• Maybe get that lettuce with shredded carrots
• Shit, I know this is crazy
• Just hang on
• We are going into flavor hyperspace

Of course these sandwiches are not as healthy as the more fibrous, less-sausaged original version. There is a price to pay for joy, my friends, and that price is paid in belt loops. I’m never going back. Those who say you can enjoy food and lose weight are chasing a fool’s dream, and anyone who acts like they aren’t is profiting by it.

I made empanadas! They looked like regurgitated horseshoe crabs. They tasted pretty good!

Holly launched her food blog! Yay! You have to understand that these aren’t fake foods covered in shellac and developing fluid: these are real things that I get to help eat. That alone, so far, has been worth the trip.

Of course, now it’s my night to cook and I am experiencing more stage fright than ever did on an actual stage. It’s not as if I’m trying to live up to the house standard. I just want to avoid the part of The Birdcage where they all take one sip in unison and then quietly, carefully, put their spoons back down.

The Mayan Gypsy is back!

This is mostly for my own future reference, but the apples I found labelled “Mountaineer” at Whole Foods are just slightly superior to Fujis in every way. A little more tart and crisper, with thicker skin, less wax and a better texture. They asymptotically approach the quality of apples from my grandmother’s orchard, which is probably the best any commercial apple is going to do. Unfortunately, they seem to be available only in season, so it looks like I’ll be back to eating Fujis (which are, to be fair, far superior to any other cultivar) in a month.

Data point: since I started eating roughly four to five apples a week–something like a year and a half ago–I have not been sick. Magic? Or coincidence?

I discovered a few minutes ago that I have not only a big black splinter in the heel of my hand, but a hell of broken nail on that hand’s ring finger. My hand was in no such condition when I went to bed last night. What exactly am I doing in my sleep?

I know I haven’t written anything in here in like ten weeks; I have been saving up the biggest thing for the day when it actually happens. Meanwhile, Maria bought a red car, we ate at the Mayan Gypsy three times in a week, Ian touched down like a spinning stone, and Brenna will never trust us again.

We’ve officially been in Louisville long enough to hit a residency landmark: The Favorite Restaurant That Always Seems Packed But Now It’s Closing. That’s right. The Mayan Gypsy is going away in a little over two weeks, and the world will be poorer.

To get in while we can, Maria and I are telling you to come eat with us there at 6 pm EST this Sunday, June 25th. Update: Not Sunday, they’re not open on Sunday. Monday? Call, email or comment if you want in on our reservation. We’ll get corn cakes and chocolate. I envision a pitcher of sangria and an 18% gratuity. Walls will tumble. Men will die.

The Mayan Gypsy, probably our favorite restaurant, gets a nice writeup from the deplorably-named Louisville HotBytes (the closest thing we have to a Zagat’s). The critic (Paige A. Moore, according to the reprint in LEO) even praises the famous Beef and Shrimp Diablo.

Man, we haven’t been back there in a while. Want to take some guests next weekend, Maria?

I am a big fan of refurbished electronics and appliances, despite the fact that they are maybe the worst things to get refurbished (rapid depreciation, complicated things that if they broke once, etc). I also display a startling brand loyalty to KitchenAid. Thanks to Simply Recipes, I found a refurbished, fairly high-end KitchenAid blender on Amazon for less than half price, with free shipping. You can guess the result.

Tuesday everybody brought stuff to try in smoothies, and Wednesday Maria and I experimented with chocolate pseudomalts and strawberry-orange slushies. Last night I found it difficult to establish a decent texture for a real milkshake; Maria found recommendations online that say if you’re using skim milk (we do), stick it in the freezer for ten minutes first. I firmly intend to do so.

Basically, I’ve enabled myself to drink ice cream. If I were a betting man, and I were in a boxing match against getting fat? I would put my money on getting fat.

Maria: “This is your favorite recipe ever! ‘Cook some butter. Eat it.’”