skating down the mountain, skyline in our rear view mirror.


oh my faijfi;emacijejfao

I need to tell you about this because it's awesome. Tonight, for the first night in whole life...I cooked something other than pasta for dinner (successfully). Because, ya know, although I don't even have enough fingers and toes to count how many times I've told people I could eat pasta for every meal, some nights (like tonight) I realize that's just not true. Sorry for lying, those of you who I told. You're over it, I can tell.

So, look!
What we've got here is my own rendition of Smitten Kitchen's eggplant salad toasts:
   -Dice up 'dat eggplant, mix it with olive oil, a little salt, a lot of pepper, and roast those babies in a 425 degree oven for 20 minutes (I added black olives 'cause, why not?).
   -When the roasting stuff is done roasting, mix it with chopped onion, feta (and I added a little shredded mozz because I was short on feta...and by "short on feta" I mean I stole as much of it from my roommate's side of the fridge as possible without her noticing) and throw it all on some toasted baguette slices (or old hot dog buns. Don't judge.).
   -Finally, I drizzled it with a bit of peach vinegar, aka Vinegar of the Gods, because for some reason I don't own any other kind. I could seriously drink that stuff out of the bottle. No lie. 
   -Eat and die. (Because it's so good, not because it's so bad)

And that appetizing little blob to the right of this eggplant-y creation is The Pioneer Woman's crash hot potatoes.
   -Boil some baby potatoes in salt water.
   -Put them on a cookie sheet that's drizzled with oil and smash 'em. Since I don't have a smasher, I just used the bottom of a glass (worked like a charm). Sprinkle them with salt, pepper, and herb of choice (all I have is basil), and slide them into a 450 degree oven for 20-25 minutes or until crispy brown. 
   -Eat and die. (See above)

And YUM! They were scrumptious. Disclaimer: no, I'm not a vegetarian, despite what 99.9% of the world thinks. Vegetables are just less scary to cook (no face-in-toilet involved if something goes wrong). (That's never happened to me before, it's just an irrational fear) (a phobia, if you will) (see that? 4 parentheses in a row. BAM!)
I wanted to include a picture of me eating this meal as evidence that I was actually responsible for all this. It's a very strategic photo, as it doesn't show how flat my hair was today, it proves that my counter comes up to my chest, which is just too tall for any counter, AND it's a little in-your-face proof to the few friends whose names will renamed unmentioned (*cough*Tyler*cough*Shane*ahem, excuse me*) that I don't always stick my pinky out when I'm eating or drinking. Sometimes I stick my pointer out instead. So there.


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