Can we talk about fast food for a second and without all the jerk-y knee jerk reactions about how it's incredibly processed, and how it's bad for me, and how it's evil, and how it's quite possibly responsible for the collapse of our foodways, and how your cousin heard that McDonald's was secretly funding an underground Nazi terrorist group that is strong in organization but where all members have terrible heart conditions and struggle to breath? (Did you not hear about that? It was in the underground blogs.)
Let's be honest. People wouldn't eat it if it didn't taste good. Second, I had a chocolate-filled croissant and two cups of black tea with cream and white sugar for breakfast today. You can't argue that that wasn't just as unhealthy as anything through the drive-thru window.
Anyways, can we all just agree that McDonald's fries are just the bee's knees? Yes, without a kitchen I have had to throw myself at the world of eating out, and while part of that entails discovering new restaurants there have also been forays into the Monsanto-supported Golden Arches and others of its similar grease-up-the-paper-bag-till-you-can-see-through-it ilk.
Sure, most of their food usually leaves me in a curled mess wishing the meal had never happened as I my heart begins to stutter. Yet, I find if I limit myself to one order of fries and that's it then I am happier than an event planner with an unlimited budget. Hot, greasy, salty, crunchy, and those delectable soggy with grease fries. Yes. I love them with ketchup, but I'll eschew it for a bit of ranch or malt vinegar. Double yes.
The days of eating out will come to a close soon. I think. Hopefully. Assuming the Kitchen Remodel Gods decide to stop jabbing me in the eye with a stick. It's like they delight in pulling the rug out from under people, except you don't land on a clean floor. No, it's covered in nails and debris because you're in the middle of a god damn kitchen remodel.
Let's go into the progress first.
I have walls! Huzzah! No more wires writing out from every which way to strangle and ensnare me making it feel like my kitchen is Clive Barker's new cenobite. In addition, we now have lights! No more living in darkness. You have no idea how much I appreciate not tripping over every random piece of clutter when the sun goes down.
It's amazing how these tiny bits of progress can seriously uplift a mood.
We are also still painting. Every. Single. Wall. Ceiling. Door. Trim. Window frame. Everything. It's exhausting. It looks great when it's done and I've been lucky enough to have help from a few friends, but like Stephen King's woefully long career it is unending. I am admittedly nervous about the dark blue The Husband has picked for the living room, but then again I am shocked how much I love the grey accent walls in the master bedroom.
So we'll see.
The cabinets are finally in after a bit of drama. The cabinet makers sort of botched the order and made a right hand panel instead of a left hand panel. It doesn't sound like much, but it took some repair work that then delayed the installation of the granite, which delayed the installation of any appliances, which delayed my ability to cook anything whatsoever. So yes, there will be a bit of a lack of recipes here still for quite sometime.
I do have a hot plate and toaster oven from my mum's home, so I can't imagine there won't be a simple tartine, a pilaf, or some simple soups. Perhaps even a posset. I do love them and haven't had one in forever. Boil some milk and sugar, add citrus juice and you have a simple pudding that'll please the house guests and make you look like a star when you're really just feeling lazy. Hooray!
We're also not house poor. Instead, we're renovation poor. I actually bought a stack of ramen noodles the other day, and some radishes and green onions to go with it. In college it was a simple go-to meal to do ramen with garlic, thinly sliced radishes and the radish greens, and some green onion. If I had any stock I would toss the flavor packet for something that didn't have more salt than the lake shores in Utah.
Still, the packets are nostalgic and they take me back to younger days back in my twenties. (I'm now coping with turning 30. Shut up and let me complain about my slowed metabolism and no longer taught as brand new bike seat skin.)
I do wonder about the Oriental flavor of ramen and ponder if eating it makes me racist. Also, what exactly is Oriental flavor? Anyone?