Month: June 2016

day twenty-nine: monday morning qb

Posted on by thedingismything

Holy cow. This was one of those weekends when I need a weekend to recover from my weekend. Spent Saturday morning at an Earth Day event picking up trash out of the L.A. River, and then Sunday I helped my mom clean out her garage to prep for a yard sale next weekend. It all added up to a lot of manual labor followed by a lot of time recovering by binge-watching season 5 of Game of Thrones before the new season premiere last night.

Again, holy cow – if you saw it, you’ll know what I’m talking about.

Where I went right this weekend:

The Husband and I have a long-standing tradition of making a big celebratory dinner for the first Game of Thrones of the season. We try to make it something they would eat on the show. He was in charge of last night’s feast, and he outdid himself with a little dish he called “Fleabottom Bowl of Brown.” It was a Whole30 compliant beef stew he came up with on his own, and it hit the spot. The only this we were missing was our wine. Tyrion Lannister would have been truly disappointed.

beef stew

Where I went wrong:

Despite all my activities this weekend, I still fell short of my step goal both days. I averaged around 7,000 steps per day. It probably wouldn’t have taken much to get those extra steps – a quick walk around my neighborhood would have done it.

We had our eyes on the prize this weekend, and stayed focused on Day 30 being around the corner. But, I felt like we dwelled a little too much on thinking about how everything would have been better with something NOT allowed by our diet. Example: After the river cleanup, we both were dying to go with our friends to Golden Road Brewery and just spend the rest of the day drinking beer and hanging out. Talking about it over and over made it so much harder to focus on the main event itself. And, after eating the beef stew, all I could think about was how it could have been even better with a big ol’ glass of merlot (don’t judge me) and some crusty bread to soak up the juices at the bottom of the bowl.

Goals for this week:

Make it to Wednesday. Come onnnnn, Wednesday.

No seriously, I’m looking forward to a little freedom after Whole30 is over. But, I’m also afraid of going nuts and undoing all the good I’ve accomplished. Seems to be the outcome of every diet I’ve ever done. Which is why we started thinking of this not as a diet, but how we’d like to eat from here on out. Just with a little more flexibility. I’ve realized I don’t miss sugar at all and I could eat like this quite happily as long as I could enjoy a glass of wine with dinner or a nice cocktail at the end of the week.

So my goal for this week is to enjoy a few days of being done with Whole30, but to try just wading into the pool instead of diving into the deep end right away. I want to introduce one thing back at a time, and avoid stuffing my face with junk food again.

Note: This is a re-post from the Tumblr version of this blog. It originally ran on April 25, 2016.

day twenty-six: light at the end of the tunnel

Posted on by thedingismything

I’m wearing a pair of jeans today that 27 days ago wouldn’t fit over my ass, let alone zip up.

They aren’t one, but two sizes smaller than the size of my Mercy Jeans that I acquired just prior to starting Whole30.

Look, I know. I’ve bitched a lot. I’ve lost my mind a few times. I’ve complained more than I care to admit. And in four days from now, at 11:59 p.m., I’m gonna be poppin’ some bottles to celebrate being done with this.

But today, I’m wearing my skinny jeans. And they’re not uncomfortable. So was this past month worthwhile?

Ask me again on Wednesday.

In the meantime, I’ve got another yummy Whole30 dinner for you, along with another of my trademark valuable lessons learned.

I made meatballs again. And, in keeping with this week’s apparent theme, they didn’t come out as good as they did the first time. At least I was able to figure out why they didn’t.

Kids, when you make meatballs, you need to use ground meat with a little fat. I’m not saying the 80/20 bargain bin bullshit. But don’t use the 99% Fat Free I’m So Much Better Than You Because I’m Extra Lean Ground Turkey. If you do, they’re going to come out dry, like mine did. If you still insist on being a fat free ground meat snob, make sure you have some all natural nothing added snobby applesauce on hand to go with it, because that’s what saved my meatballs from joining my mayo in failure hell.

The other redeeming feature in this meal was my Whole30 compliant mashed potatoes – recipe invented by yours truly. I tackled the potatoes first, because a) they are easier to keep warm, and 2) making the meatballs is an action-packed process that requires a lot of attention. Just like me.

First thing you want to do is get a pot of water on the stove and get it to boiling. I hate forgetting to do this ahead of time – then I’m halfway through with cooking and have to stop and wait for water to boil.

Peel your potatoes and cut them into halves or quarters, depending on size. They’ll cook more evenly and quickly this way. Plop them into the boiling water, and set your timer for 10 minutes. They might take longer. When you can stick a fork in ‘em easily, they’re done. Don’t cook them to the point that your fork breaks them apart. Then your mashed potatoes turn into mush potatoes, and nobody likes that.

mashed pot how to

While the potatoes are boiling, put all the meatball ingredients into a bowl. One pound of ground meat, one beaten egg, onion, S&P, oregano, and I like to use a little almond flour (about ¼ cup) to give them some oomph. Using your hands, mush everything up together. Here, it’s OK to mush. You can use those plastic cafeteria gloves if this step grosses you out. But just remember this makes you a weenie and everyone will laugh at you.

meatball how to

When the potatoes are ready, drain the water and get out your potato masher. Time to work out some of that stress. You’re going to add in, one at a time, some ghee or clarified butter, canned coconut milk, and chicken broth. Depending on how many potatoes you use, these amounts will differ. I used two giant potatoes, about 2 tablespoons of ghee, about ¼ cup of coconut milk, and 1/3 cup of broth. First add your ghee and let it melt while you mash it in with the potatoes. Then add the coconut milk, and mash again. Finally, add the broth a couple tablespoons at a time and mash mash mash away until it reaches the right consistency. You’ll know when it’s there.

I got fancy and added some chopped chives to mine.

Back to your meatballs. Heat some oil in a NONSTICK pan – that’s super important – and roll your mushy meat concoction into golf ball sized balls. And here, don’t be like me. Actually roll them. I just kinda picked up meat and shaped it, thus my meatballs look more like meatcubes. Put them in the pan, and rotate every minute or so to brown on each side. Have a baking sheet ready and lined with parchment paper. When the meatballs are browned, line them up on your baking sheet and finish them in the oven for about 6-7 minutes.

Et, voilà. Meatballs and mashed potatoes. Super good yummy comfort food to get you through your last week of Whole30.

meatballs and mash

 

Note: This is a re-post from the Tumblr version of this blog. It originally ran on April 22, 2016.

day twenty-five: the great mayo meltdown ’16

Posted on by thedingismything

Got a little bit of bad news yesterday. Both of the offers we submitted for houses last week were rejected. Seriously, who are these people making all-cash offers over asking price? How are we supposed to compete with that? Who has half a million dollars in cash just lying around anyway? And if you do, why the hell would you want to live in Reseda, of all places?

<<deep breath>>

As you might infer, I’m a little disappointed. But, I also was expecting it, so it wasn’t completely devastating. I took the news pretty well, and tried to muster up enthusiasm for going back to square one and checking out the latest on Redfin and Zillow. That lasted about 10 minutes before I was just over it.

I take solace in knowing that it’s not just us who find it difficult (read: impossible) to buy a home in this market. Still, it makes me feel pretty crummy. I’ve had some pretty sharp peaks and valleys when it comes to my self-worth and self-confidence over the years. I can honestly say that nothing has made me feel as much of a miserable failure in life as this home-buying process has.

When I finally left the office, I had one of those commutes where every asshole on the 5 freeway decided it was ok to cut me off. I hit every single red light. I had to stop at the store, and a shithead stole my parking space as I was about to pull in to it. Got in the shortest line behind the s-l-o-w-e-s-t old lady who, of course, paid in cash – with exact change.

You can imagine I’m reaching the end of my rope here.

The Husband said he would handle dinner for us. He was taking a stab at a salmon cakes recipe out of the Whole30 book. The note at the bottom of the page said it paired well with the tartar sauce recipe, made from their basic mayo.

For any newcomers, the Whole30 basic mayo was the first Whole30 recipe I made and it was a smash hit. I was so happy with it. Easy to make, tasted great, saved my lunches for the first 10 days. I haven’t made any since I ran out of my first batch, so while he made the salmon cakes, I took on the mayo so we’d have a nice little sauce on the side.

One egg, one-half teaspoon of mustard powder, one teaspoon of salt and a quarter of a cup of olive oil all went into the standing mixer. I flipped it on, and it started to combine.

And then, it just kinda did nothing.

I seemed to remember it looking a little less liquidy the first time. But oh well. Let’s just keep going.

Started to drizzle in my one cup of olive oil. Little bit at a time. Little bit. Little. Bit.

Only difference was MORE of the liquid. Not thickening. At all.

Do I stop? No! Persevere! Keep going! It will start to emulsify.

Have I mentioned it’s 7:45 p.m. at this point, the salmon cakes are just about ready, and we’re both starving?

Entire cup of olive oil is mixed in. It’s the same consistency. Much more yellow than I remember it looking the first time.

At this point, a person in their right mind might step back and think, “OK, clearly this isn’t working out. You’re hungry and tired and very stressed out. Just stop and enjoy the cakes by themselves.”

I wasn’t in my right mind.

I went back to the recipe and saw the direction that said your egg needed to be at room temperature in order for this to work. Forgot all about that. No wonder. A tip said that if you’re pressed for time (story of my life) you can put the egg in a bowl of hot water for five minutes and then it would work.

Second egg comes out of the fridge and goes into a bowl of hot water. I remove the first failed batch from the mixer and pour it into a mason jar. All I can think about at this point is that a bottle of olive oil costs $15 and I just wasted about $3 worth. I can’t throw this away. I can save this somehow.

I start the second batch. Egg is warmed to room temp, everything else is good to go. I’ve re-read the complete instructions for the recipe about four times. It’s now 8 p.m. and the salmon cakes are out of the oven. The Husband, the most patient man on the Earth, is waiting for me to get this mayo right.

I add the first ingredients. It looks slightly thicker this time. I’m hopeful.

I crank the mixer up to top speed and begin to slowly drizzle in the olive oil.

Same. Exact. Results.

Not thickening. Not getting lighter in color. Not working. Not happening.

And I start losing my mind.

There is ugly crying, and then there is what unfolded for me last night.

My face got hot, tears welled up in my eyes and streamed down my face. I’ve wasted $6 worth of olive oil, about 45 minutes, made my loving husband wait for mayo that never happened, ruined dinner by crying, and above all, I can’t buy a house.

At that point, realizing that my brain had long stopped working, The Husband literally handed me my plate of three salmon cakes, turned off all the lights in the kitchen and walked me over to sit down and fucking eat. And I cried the entire time.

I think it’s fair to say that our home offer rejections affected me more than I realized. I rode that bus way past Discouraged, past Disillusionment, straight into Crazy Town.

After we ate, I went back and poured the second failed batch into the jar with the first one. It’s in my fridge as we speak. I’m going to find a way to use it if it kills me.

P.S. The salmon cakes came out really good, in case anyone is wondering. And I married the greatest man on the planet.

PhotoGrid_1461270108085

Wouldn’t that have just been perfect with a little mayo?

 

Note: This is a re-post from the Tumblr version of this blog. It originally ran on April 21, 2016

day twenty-four: a lunch-time quickie.

Posted on by thedingismything

Get your filthy mind out of the gutter.

I’m talking about healthy lunches you can make in mere minutes. No more excuses for going out. Not that you can, because you’re on Whole30 and no restaurant is safe, apparently.

My awesome parents felt my pain about how tired I was getting of cooking all the time. So they invited us over for dinner, and promised to cook everything per our guidelines. We had grilled yellowtail, roasted sweet potatoes and steamed veggies. All were seasoned only with olive oil and a little S&P. And it was delicious. I would have taken a picture, but I ate it too quickly.

After dinner I realized the only downside of not cooking for myself was that I had no leftovers to pack for my lunch the next day. We didn’t have anything prepped at home, either. Crap.

Decided to make my go-to tuna salad, but also realized that I didn’t have any Whole30 mayo already made. Double crap. Decided to make some, but then realized we were low on olive oil. Crappity crap crap crap.

It just wasn’t my night.

The Husband had a genius idea: substitute avocado for mayo with my tuna.

So I did. And it is Y-U-M-M-Y.

tuna

Five-Ingredient Tuna Salad

1 Can of Solid White Tuna in Water, drained
1 Avocado
¼ c. chopped onion
2 stalks celery, chopped
Juice of ½ lemon
(and some pretty little lettuce pieces on the side, if you’re feeling fancy, but that makes it a six-ingredient dish and that just doesn’t sound as easy so I’m leaving it out)

Directions: Mix.

Time to prep: As long as it takes you to open a can, scoop an avocado, chop onion and celery and squeeze a lemon. It took me longer to arrange the lettuce so it looked pretty for this picture than it did for me to make the tuna salad.

Note: This is a re-post from the Tumblr version of this blog. It originally ran on April 20, 2016.

day twenty-three: ooops.

Posted on by thedingismything

I make mistakes on a regular basis. Like, it would be fair to say that I do something dumb pretty much every day.

Here’s some proof:

tupperware

Yep. I forgot that I put a Tupperware on top of our oven and then turned it on. Whoops.

In the last week or so, I’ve burned my finger, gotten my leg caught in the chair at my hair stylist’s salon, packaged up leftovers but forgot to put them away in the fridge, melted that Tupperware lid, and about a dozen other really dumb things.

Here’s the take-away: I’m never going to not make mistakes. The important thing is to learn from them, and to learn how to recover and rebound when you do make them.

This time yesterday, I was about halfway through writing a blog post about how The Husband and I found a few restaurants we could order food from and still eat within the rules of Whole30. We’ve done this exactly three times in 23 days, which is a HUGE improvement from how often we were eating out prior to starting Whole30. The first of these three times, we got salads from Chipotle.

I had done a little research on Paleo diet-friendly restaurants, and what you could order at each one. No, Whole30 and Paleo are not the same thing, but they are the closest you can get when comparing most nutrition guidelines. Y’all don’t know how excited I was when I saw Chipotle on the list. Salad, no dressing, double chicken, pico and guac. Yes, please!

I told The Husband and he was as excited as I had been. We made big plans for a Friday night “date night” that included a little Chipotle action and binge-watching the last season of Game of Thrones before the new season starts. (HOLY SHIT YOU GUYS IT STARTS THIS SUNDAY. CAN. NOT. WAIT.)

We were standing in line for about 15 minutes, it seemed, and The Husband asked me if we could have the fajita veggies. I told him I didn’t think so, but I wasn’t positive. He got out his phone and looked it up. No dice – the fajita veggies are grilled using rice bran oil, a Whole30 no-no.

I have to take a quick second here to applaud Chipotle for the transparency of their website. You can find out every ingredient that goes in to every item on their menu. They have a whole page dedicated to allergen information. Their nutrition calculator allows you to basically build your meal and find out fat, sodium, carbs and protein info before stuffing a 1,600 calorie burrito in your face. I wish more chain restaurants took this website as their model.

Fast forward to yesterday, when I’m sitting here typing, retelling this same story. I couldn’t remember what kind of oil they used that made the veggies off-limits. So, I pulled up the Chipotle website … and discovered they use rice bran oil to cook their chicken, too.

WHAT.

THE.

HELL.

Alright. So, there goes that one. I deleted the entire post, said a few choice words, and beat myself up a little for not doing my homework beforehand.

I consulted my Whole30 book last night, to see what they recommend doing if you slip up. Was it deliberate? No. Is it a food that I would eat emotionally or for comfort? Absolutely not. (If I’m eatingrice bran oil as my comfort food, I’ve got other problems.) And in my opinion, it wasn’t one of the major criminal offenses. It wasn’t sugar, dairy or alcohol.

So, the big question, am I going to start my Whole30 all over because I ate something cooked in rice bran oil?

Um, FUCK no.

If I was eating Chipotle chicken three or four times a week and getting double meat on each order, I might acknowledge the need to push reset. But honestly, if chicken (that they brag about being “responsibly raised”) is the worst thing I eat in 30 days, I’ll be just fine.

Last night, when The Husband got home from the gym, I told him about my discovery.

“Love, I have something I need to tell you.”

“Uh-oh.” Something you have to know about him: Not only does he have incredible willpower, but he is a rule-follower, to the letter. Two traits I find very appealing in a husband.

I broke it to him easy: “You remember when we had Chipotle last week? And how you looked up the fajita veggies and found out they were cooked in rice bran oil? Well, I don’t know how to tell you this … but … so is the chicken.”

“Yeah, I know.”

WHAT?? “You knew?? Why didn’t you say anything?”

“We were already in line.”

Yep.

Looks like we’ll just be sticking to home cooking for the next seven days.

Note: This is a re-post from the Tumblr version of this blog. It originally ran on April 19, 2016.

monday morning qb: day twenty-two.

Posted on by thedingismything

I am officially at the point where I am dreaming about food. Cupcakes, specifically, that I baked myself and taste like heaven in the form of spongy chocolate cake and vanilla buttercream frosting.

Send help. Soon.

Less than 10 days to go, and I’m just barely hanging. I’d love to report that, hey, it’s gotten so much easier to say no to yummy things and not even think about all I’m missing out on. It’s actually just about the opposite.

The Husband and I are so over cooking. Every recipe just seems boring. Granted, we have a lot of side stress building as we are making offers on TWO houses this week (so much adulting happening over here!!!) and it is taking a toll on our energy levels.

Full disclosure: We’ve already planned our first meal out for Day 31. It involves wine.

Where I went right this weekend:

Found an awesome manager’s special on 99% fat free ground turkey at our local Sprouts Market. Picked up four packages, and froze one to have on hand. Each package weighed about a pound, and they were all less than $4 per package. Win!

Where I went wrong:

Aside from dreaming of cupcakes, the fruit cravings have been real. I’m eating a lot of dates and sliced pineapple, and usually after dinner at “dessert time.” Probably reinforcing some real bad habits there, but in light of everything, I figured I could give myself a pass on this one.

Goals for this week:

Totally failed on my goal from last week to increase my steps per day and work on getting more activity in. So just going to roll that one over into this week. However, I’m also going to set a goal to try minimum two new recipes this week. And force myself to be excited about them.

 

Note: This is a re-post from the Tumblr version of this blog. It originally ran on April 18, 2016.

day eighteen: time for a p.s.a.

Posted on by thedingismything

My sexy AF husband cooked dinner for us last night. So I got to take a day off from cooking. It was glorious. Better yet, he made the most deeelish pot of chili. See?

chili

Since that leaves me with no new kitchen adventures to report on, I’m going to take this opportunity to address an issue that’s been on my mind for a while now. I hate to bring the mood down, but it’s time for some serious talk.

Serious trash talk.

OK, OK, maybe that’s too harsh. Just consider the following a Public Service Announcement. If you belong to a gym, or take fitness classes, or belong to a running group of some kind, you’re gonna feel me on this one.

There are a few people at the gym who you just don’t want to be. They are the ones who get side-eyed by everyone else who is giving 110 percent and putting every last drop of energy into it. Even trainers and coaches hate them. If you think you’re one of them, just stop and don’t.

First, and realllly the most annoying, is the Wooo Girl. There you are, not five minutes into your workout, sweating your ass off and hating life. And there she is, having the time of her goddam life. You’re grimacing. She’s smiling like she goin’ to Disneyland. You’re grunting. And every 30 seconds, she yells “WOOOOOOOO!”

If only it were legal to punch people straight in the face.

This isn’t a high school football game, and you’re not the quarterback’s cheerleader girlfriend, bitch. Quit being so peppy. Do you hear anyone around you cheering along? NO, ya don’t. Now STFU and work harder, because clearly you’re not pushing yourself hard enough. If you were, you’d be as miserable and quiet as the rest of us.

The male counterpart of the Wooo Girl is The Grunter. He’s sweating his balls off a foot away from you, and all you hear is a throaty grunt during every rep. Bicep curls: “Uhhh, uhhh, uhhh, uhhh.”

And he’s only using the 20 lb. weights.

Hey, buddy: If we wanted to know what you sound like when you’re having sex, we’d sleep with you. You’re at the gym. In public. There could be children around, for Christ’s sake. Knock it off.

Finally, we’ve got Up in Da Club Girl. You know the one. She’s easy to spot. It’s 5:30 am and she’s wearing a crop top and lip gloss. You deserve a medal for brushing your teeth before you left the house, and her hair looks like a Pinterest ponytail win.

Look, if you’re hitting up 24-Hour Fitness after work, then great. Do your thing. Wear them booty shorts. Hint: Bros love it when you ask them to help you with your form. Go get ’em.  But if you’re dragging your ass out of bed at the crack of dawn to work out next to women wearing sweatpants and T-shirts and active wear made from moisture-wicking material that serves a purpose, please pleaseplease PLEASE wear a shirt long enough to hide your underboob. I don’t care how good you look, and guess what: NOBODY ELSE DOES EITHER. We are all here to accomplish one task: To look as good as you do, you little hussy. And newsflash: Even if I did look as good as you, I wouldn’t wear that kind of thing to a 5:30 am bootcamp that has literally three dudes in it and they’re all married. Seeing you dressed like that is not motivating; it’s not giving us aspirations and hopes and dreams. It’s making 50 women old enough to be your mother (or much older sister) hate your guts.

Oh, man.

I can’t tell you guys how GREAT it feels to finally get that off my chest. PHEW! It’s like this massive weight has been lifted.

Thanks for listening, guys. I promise I’ll go back to being funny tomorrow.

Note: This is a re-post from the Tumblr version of this blog. It originally ran on April 14, 2016.