… is their hoity-toity attitude.  And I can’t take it.

I’m a cook, not a baker.  I insist on this despite the large quantities of breads, cookies and scones coming out of my kitchen.  I went through a 5-pound bag of flour in under 2 weeks, which I think is quite the accomplishment for somebody who is not a baker.  Seriously, I’m not.  And here’s why.

Bakers are too uptight.  They like measurements.  Even their measurements like measurements.  Instead of just saying a cup of flour, some cookbooks will even specify that you are supposed to dump the flour into the measuring cup (do not scoop), then use a knife to level the flour, making it a precise cup.  Lack of compliance with the precise measurements will result in absolute failure.  Or so they tell you.  You’re supposed to beat the batter on medium for 3 minutes.  Going even 3 seconds over will mean a “tough” consistency.  You don’t want tough, do you?

Well here’s the deal.  I don’t have time for that.  I have a full time job.  So here’s a little secret that bakers don’t tell you…

First, bakers are almost always right.  It probably will taste better if you put in the extra time and effort, measure precisely, mix precisely, need precisely, etc.

Second, bakers exaggerate the difference that this makes.  I’m incredibly lazy about my baking, frequently experiment with little to no thought to the process, and almost always get good results.  Not great.  For that, I’d have to bake like a baker.  But a cook isn’t a rotten baker, contrary to what you’ve been told.  A cook is not as good a baker as a baker, but I’ve got to be honest… my gingerbread scones weren’t bad this evening.

All last week, I had that as my status on iChat at work.  I don’t want to explain the specific context of it, but I’ve been coming to grips with the failures of youth all week.  One of our interns even messaged me to tell me that kids these days are awesome, then sent me a link to a youtube video.  I think that was my point, buddy…

More to the point, though, I think I’m just a little jaded by humanity, and at the moment, food bloggers specifically.  Yesterday morning, I read this before heading to work, which was interesting enough.  I’m not about to go out and make it this instant, but I did, for just a moment, think about serving it for dessert this Thursday evening.  Then I remembered that my friend is bringing dessert, and besides, I’m not sure it goes with the DIVINE mango salsa I’m going to make.  But imagine my disappointment at reading this post this morning.  I suppose it’s fall.  It makes sense.  Still… REALLY?!?

Joy and I have a complicated relationship.  Most all of the time, I adore her.  I tell everyone else to adore her, too.  In fact, I frequently tell my boyfriend that if he ever has the opportunity to date her instead of me, he should so take it.  I don’t think he thinks I’m serious.  I am.

More recently, though, I’ve been a little disappointed.  I found this post a little annoying, if I’m perfectly honest.  I don’t think it’s cute to avoid your bills or do laundry at your parents’ house or drunk text people.  We’re not in college anymore, and we should all stop acting like we are.

Your early twenties are an amazing time in your life, and I’m not trying to grow up too soon.  I just think that responsibility is what gives you the freedom to do whatever you want, whenever you want to, and that’s fabulous.  If you’re still expecting your parents to pick up your rent when you blow your paycheck on that fabulous coach handbag, then you can’t be mad at them when they try to tell you what job to take or what grad school to choose.  You clearly can’t make decisions for yourself, and they have a right and a responsibility to do it for you.

So I guess what I’m getting at is… Grow up! Which isn’t at all why I started writing this, but in my opinion, is a fine place to end up.  Now, I’m off to work an 8 hour day in a job that I love, and for which I will be paid.  I’m pretty happy with the choices I’ve made.

I <3 web analytics.  Seriously.  They make me love you all.  Like so much.  They also let me know that you’re there and the funny ways that you find me.  But really, this was just an excuse to say: I heart you online.

But while we’re here, let’s talk about LOVE, baby… let’s talk about love.

A friend turned me onto this blog, where the author gives relationship advice with every delicious recipe she posts.  <sarcasm>Now you all know I’m an expert in relationships</sarcasm>, so I thought I’d steal her idea and give you a bit of advice.

So what does it mean when a woman makes a man food?  We’ve discussed this before, but I don’t think I was clear enough.  So when women make men food, they probably mean “Hey, I like you.  Here’s something yummy.”  She’s probably not hitting on you.  Unless you’re being a dope and not noticing the totally awesome girl that she is, in which case, the food is really just her attempt to sing this song to you.  Or this song.  They’re kind of the same.  There’s also the small possibility that she believes that now that you don’t live with your mother, you’re surviving on hot pockets and hungry man meals… which is probably true and needs to be stopped.  We’re humanitarians, we are.

Did anybody find the music reference I was dying to make but didn’t?  Please tell me SOMEONE did!

I respect a person’s right to be vegetarian.  I even admire it to an extent.  And I get that seeing Lady Gaga dressed in meat makes you sick to your stomach.

I get it.  I really do.  That dress is almost enough to take away my current craving for meat.  Almost.

But you see… one thing has led to another, and somehow I’ve managed to go all week without an ounce of meat, and my body couldn’t be angrier.  I woke up two nights this week, absolutely starving.  How do you vegetarians do it?  Really?  That’s an honest question.  I want to know.

For lunch today?  Dain’s.  I’ve decided.  And if I win this bet, my meal might even be free.  ;)

Hi it’s Valerie again!  I haven’t been on here in a long time.  One reason for that is I was traveling in Europe most of the summer.  Well, now that I’m home, people keep asking me very hard to answer questions like:

“How was your trip?” (How can I summarize 11 weeks in 7 countries in just a few sentences?)

“What was your favorite place?” (How can I choose one favorite?  Every place had things I loved about it.  Seriously, I wouldn’t want to miss out on any of it.)

“Wasn’t the food wonderful?” (Yes and no.  I was traveling on a budget, so I ate a lot of sandwiches, yogurt, and trail mix.)

Still, I can tell you what my favorite restaurant was: Taverna Basca Irati in Barcelona.

This was the only place that had me wishing I had more time in the city so I could come back to the restaurant. This Taverna serves Basque ”pintxos” – which are open-faced sandwiches with a delightful variety of toppings. You stand at the bar (Mediterraneans think sitting is overrated), ask for “Un plato, por favor” then take your pick of the beautiful array of sandwiches displayed along the bar.  At the end, they count your toothpicks in order to charge you about 2 Euros per sandwich.

I loved this place because the ingredients were high-quality and super fresh.  Also I loved the system where you could eat whatever you fancied instead of having a portion of food that may be too big or too small.  I often was not able to finish what I was served while I was traveling.

Mouth-watering Basque sandwiches

I found out about Taverna Basca Irati from my Rick Steves travel book.  As I was traveling alone, I considered Rick to be my travel buddy.  I met a lot of other Rick Steves fans on the road, and we had fun swapping tips, or even following the same walking tours together.  We love you, Rick!