Worldrunner3's Blog

July 11, 2012

Trading Yucks for Yums

Filed under: Uncategorized — by worldrunner3 @ 11:34 pm
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I read somewhere (most likely on the Internet, the Bringer of All Un-Cited Wisdom) that it is rude and close-minded to “yuck someone else’s yum.” Meaning, if your friend has a thing for liver and onions, or enjoys eating cheap ground beef for dinner, or likes sweet pickles in any other application but the occasional spoonful of relish on a hot dog at a baseball game, or likes to dip French fries in those amazing Wendy’s Frosties (as I did during every youth group outing to that chain in junior high and high school), you can’t look at them and say “yuck.”

*You can, however, look at them when they are eating copious amounts of beef or processed meats and say “good luck with your cancer.” As long as it’s not yuck.

I’m going to point fingers at my husband here and say that he regularly yucks my yum. I like fresh tomatoes. He only eats them cooked, and they better be pureed; none of that chunky tomato nonsense for him, thankyouverymuch. (This is why my stick blender never ever leaves my side in the kitchen.) Mushrooms sauteed in olive oil, with a little kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper? He asks me, “Do you KNOW what they grow those in?? Poop!!” Zucchini…ahh, zucchini. That overly abundant, incredibly versatile summer vegetable. It overflows gardens, friends try to pawn off their extras, and creative recipes pop up on Pinterest constantly. I love many applications of zucchini: grilled? sauteed? baked into zucchini bread? Haven’t tried this one, but I hear “the zuke” makes divine tots. And you know who doesn’t like this wonderous veg?

Yup.

Oh, my poor hypocritical self. It was a few weeks ago that Hubs was waxing rhapsodic on his favorite-in-moderation beverage: beer. He is picky about beer: none of that cheap Miller/Bud/PBR/Keystone crap that placates the unwashed masses. Pity the fool that offers him a light beer, which is an offense in the eyes of God. He likes quality craftmanship in his beer, and is always up for a glass from the local microbrewery. The man knows his stuff…and I have no interest. (Not like I don’t enjoy a glass of, oh, anything but beer; the texture throws me! Smells like bread, chews like water…eh. Give me a glass of wine, a mixed drink with rum or tequila; I’ll even have vodka before I’ll choose a beer.)

He was enjoying his beer and trying to get me to take a taste, which I refused: I’ve been down this road before. He looked at me for a moment, and came up with a stunning arrangement-if I’ll learn to like beer, really like it, and be able to drink an entire bottle of “good” beer with a smile on my face, he will be open-minded and try zucchini. “Deal,” I said, before I really thought about it.

So now I have to learn to like beer-any suggestions? I already like hard ciders, which are kind of like gateway beers: what should I try next? I’ve already tried the light/flavored beers, which are kind of disgusting. I need a real beer that is also tasty for those of us who don’t like strong yeast flavors in a drink, which considering it’s beer, may be an impossible task.

And as for Kevin and zucchini? Well, considering I got him to try beets and he loved them, I’m not too concerned.

July 1, 2012

Ahhhh…

Filed under: Uncategorized — by worldrunner3 @ 6:35 pm

First of all, warning-no pictures from my unbelievably fantastic weekend. Why? Too busy frolicking on the beach with my hubby. I was not about to stop all the fun just so I could take some poorly composed “sloppily-painted toenails in the sand” shots. (So if just reading doesn’t appeal to you, this will be dull. Sorry.)

Kevin didn’t have one single obligation on Saturday: not one! This NEVER happens. We decided to take advantage of this and spent the afternoon at Navarre Beach, which is not nearly as developed as Pensacola Beach (read: no loud, kitschy bars). We spent a lot of time throwing a Frisbee out in the water, which mostly entailed Kevin throwing it and me trying valiantly to catch it, then retrieving it from the waves. Seaweed kept wrapping around my ankles, which kept me in a perpetual state of panic (“OMG something has my leg!!”). 

Side note: When you’re going to the beach and planning on doing anything besides lying on the beach perfectly still breaking your DNA strands tanning, it is important to have a suit that fits. Very Important. *ahem*

When we’d had enough of frisbee-ing, checking out all the cool shells that washed up on the sand, and people-watching, we headed out to Pensacola to try Taste of India for dinner. At the corner where the bridge to Navarre Beach intersects Highway 98, there is a huge Black Cat fireworks tent. This perfectly typifies this area-beach culture meets redneck culture. (Tragically, this leads to the only logical conclusion-scantily clad rednecks. God help us.)

Taste of India is a hole in the wall, at least from the outside. Once inside and seated, the food starts coming, and fast! We both had lamb (vindaloo for me, biryani for him), with vegetable fritters and buttered flatbread. On top of that, Kevin ordered a Kingfisher beer, which we shared. This was no pansy 12 oz bottle. I didn’t even know that beer came in 24 oz bottles! Stuffed and exhausted, we packed up our leftovers and headed for the door. On our way out, my foot slipped on a slick spot on the floor. I caught myself, but some of the vindaloo juices leaked out the side of the styrofoam container and got all over me. Someday, I will be able to both enter and leave a restaurant without making a scene. 

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