Mushy Brain

My brain is Mush. Yes, I capitalized that purposefully.

This isn't your run of the mill, over-tired mush or the everyday 3pm boredom mush. This is a new, anti-biotic resistant strain of mind-numbing, all-consuming, mental paralysis.

I am useless.

A beautiful, talented, and overall well-loved friend of mine told me she was looking forward to my blog today....

Me: oh nooo....I can't disappoint...HER! Let's rally!

Brain: WAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Me: okay, let's sit down and think about something profound to write about....

Brain: NOOOOOoooo! I DON'T WANNAaaaa!

Me: hmm, alright..maybe just something reasonably interesting?

Brain: blooopp bleehh bhlaaa blaaa weeee wahhhhhhhh...eehhhh

Me: anything? please? what happened this week?

Brain: I don't KNOW! Stop pressuring me, you beast! I CAN'T TAKE IT!!!! Errgghh!

Me: fine...I'll just sit here until you get yourself together

1.5 hours later.....

Brain: FINE! be that way!

30 minutes later....

Me: welp....here goes nothing...

That's just about how it went. Is anyone else with me on this? Hello? World? Do you all really just have it together? Oh you do?

Hmph...You're a bunch of liars.

Today I have accomplished virtually nothing. Let's see...

1. I helped Husband pack his lunch - which probably means he'll be dining on a meal composed of napkins, multiple forks, assorted condiments, empty ziploc bags, and whatever else I grabbed in my unconscious haze.

2. I worked out while watching Mythbusters escape from prison using a huge braid of hair...a vital life-skill I'm sure to need much more than another set of alternating crunches...

3. Since I'm not working until this evening, I haven't even showered! (I feel like most of you aren't nearly surprised enough)

4. I wrote a thank you note. Three. Whole. Sentences. Look out, literary world!

5. I realized that #3 is actually something I failed to do, so it doesn't belong in this list...GO GO GADGET INTELLECT!

6. I ate leftovers for lunch.

So there you have it! This is what life looks like without access to any of your mental faculties. (except those needed to feed yourself and refuse the societal expectation to change out of your pajamas)

What recipe am I going to integrate into this post?

Well, what else? MUSH!

Oatmeal porridge, people. More delicious than you are anticipating, I assure you.

But guess what?! I have to go to work now...Yeah, that's right. It took me all day just to write this tiny blurb. Did I not communicate my epic slothfulness today? So you'll have to wait for part two of this post for the recipe and corresponding fantastic photos...Bye!

Hi! I'm back from work! I'm serious...I can now post this to the world to declare that: Today was a fail and I'm okay with that.

Failure is okay. In fact, I encourage it. Mush makes it possible to appreciate texture. Don't be afraid of it.

I'm going to indulge in a few destroy some a large amount of salty kettle chips now - In your face brain-mush!

That's all for now folks. I'm off to defy the bleak odds of this day one bite at a time.

(Yeah chocolate chips, I'm coming for you, too.)

People will let you down, but food never will... and other lies I tell myself

I'm not a liar.

Usually.

I can manage a killer fake smile with the best of them, but overall I'm not too keen on straight-up lying to people. I even used to give my real name to sketchy guys who tried to chat me up (Fail)...clearly not too quick on my feet.

Let's see...I once found a hundred dollar bill in the parking lot of my elementary school and turned it in (true--albeit Little-House-on-the-Prairie-esque--story). I was the kind of kid who would sneak candy out of the kitchen, hide it in her room, devour it (duh) - all undetected - and then rat herself out to her parents in tears. I couldn't handle the guilt! Hmm...I'm also not very good at pranks because I lack follow-through and deceptive skills. I've never cheated on my taxes. Although honestly, I wouldn't know how if I wanted to...Thank God for Turbo Tax. (Can I get an "amen"?)

Anyways, you get the idea.

I do, however, lie to myself on a daily basis.

Examples:
"It won't be awkward watching Mad Men (or any sexually charged show) with your parents again this week."
"Husband won't notice if I skip shaving my legs...again."
"I did calf raises while brushing my teeth this morning..I totally earned this overflowing bowl of ice cream!"
"Fake eyelashes for my date night (in Bangor)? Not overkill."
"That new (full-price) J. Crew dress that so-and-so bought isn't even cute."
"Red wine totally counts as a serving of fruit."
"Being tailgated for 20 miles really makes me more alert on the road! Awesome!"


I find I lie to myself more on days that leave me disappointed with other people/myself/the weather/my wardrobe options/that teller at the bank/family/long lines...and the list goes on....

I'm not completely sure why this is, but it happens.

Oh, "defense mechanism" says the psych major? You don't know me!
..but yeah, that's probably definitely what's going on. When things are looking down, I (and I'm guessing some of you) feel the need to just make it through the day - by any means possible. That usually includes calming myself with plenty of inner dialogue (mostly lies mixed with sarcastic comments) and singing/dancing to/blasting Jessie J in my car while every observer on the road thinks I'm having a seizure.


This past week was one of those "wait...really?" kind of weeks. A combination of unexpected changes, bad news, budget maintenance, and Murphy's Law failures kept my little white survival lies in full force - to say the least. Yes, I'll shamelessly take your virtual pats on the back via the comments box.

Naturally, as most foodies will attest, when things get tough, the tough get cooking. (Isn't that how it goes?) Regardless, I ran full force to lovely, comforting, and healthy foods this week as I desperately tried to cling to my sanity and soak up any nutrients or endorphin boosts along the way.

But everyone has a breaking point. So today when Husband got home from dominating the Physics GRE Subject Test (go, Husband!) - we decided to just go for it. You can go ahead and pick your mind up out of the gutter; I'm talking about mac and cheese, baby. Not just any mac and cheese.

Roasted Garlic Mac and Cheese.

Ladies and gents, watch and drool.


Step One: Roast about 2 heads of garlic by cutting the tops off, placing them in a glass baking dish, cut-side up, and covering in olive oil. Cover with aluminum foil and bake for about 30 minutes at 325F, or until golden and soft throughout.

Step Two: Let cool, chop, and set aside.

Blurry picture? No problem! Lie! Oh, Lil, it looks better that way. So artsy...and stuff..

Step Three: Set pot of water on high heat to boil. Around Step 5 or 6 the water should be boiling. Cook 1 lb of medium shells or pasta of your choice according to box directions. Strain and add at Step 9.

COMPLETELY NECESSARY PHOTO OF DIFFICULT CULINARY TASK!

Step Four: Make a bechamel sauce. Melt 5 tablespoons butter in a large sauce pan over medium heat. Add 4 tablespoons all-purpose flour. Cook until golden brown. About 6 minutes.

Step Five: Add 2 cups warm skim milk and 1 cup warm buttermilk. Whisk continually until no lumps remain.

Do I have to?...I SAID WHISK, FRYER! WHISK!

Step Six: Add 1 1/2 - 2 cups shredded cheddar cheese. (sharp cheddar if you're not a weakling)

PRODUCT PLACEMENT!

Step Seven: Try to avoid eating shredded cheese that you are coveting...well, intensely

Get a good look folks. This is the ravenous beast that is unleashed when dairy products are near. Yes, you are all jealous of Husband, I'm sure.

Step Eight: Whisk until smooth and all cheese has been melted. Try not to drool.

Step Nine: Mix drained pasta into sauce. Add chopped garlic to your taste. I like about 1.5 heads.

Step Ten: Feel free to cyber bully Husband for snapping this sweet pic in the reflection of my saucepan...real original. Dude, did you even read my first post?

Sick pic, Bro!

So there you have it, friendys. Deliciousness: not a word, but still appropriate in this context.

I realize that the title of this post: "People let you down, but food never will," is a saying that could probably be blamed for much of the country's obesity, but I think it has some noble aspects to be appreciated. (Please don't come after me, Michelle Obama.) Now hear me out. If you had a gross week full of failure and weirdness like I did, I can promise you that this recipe will make you forget your troubles - even if just for a moment. I think there's something to be said for that.

Most of us have jobs or full-time schooling (if not both), families, bills, community activities, and homes to upkeep - not to mention errands to run, car trouble, business trips, illness, or a little of everything. I mean, give yourself a break, people! You can only run on high for so long. Eventually you will run out of steam and when you do - just give in. Not fully. Not gluttonously. Not enough to balloon up to half a ton and let your cats run your house. Give in enough to turn your brain off for a bit, stop your inner dialogue that is always busy justifying your life, and breathe.

Once in a while, just relax.

Watch Mob Wives, take a gratuitously long bath, eat a bowl of scrumptious roasted garlic mac and cheese. You deserve it, pal.

Big Pimpin while spending little to no 'cheese' OR Living Life to the Full When Your Tank is on Empty

You guys wanna hear my sarcastic voice?

Check it:

"My oh my! The economy is simply booming these days, don't you think? I honestly can't keep track of my dividends! Oh my heavens, I just MUST get to Nordy's (Nordstrom's for all you simple folk) today. I hear the new Cavalli is finally in. Besides, on the way over I can have Jean-Claude swing by Cartier...."

Yeah, I just got a little nauseated. Sorry for the abrupt ending.

So as most of you have probably gathered from my last two posts, a huge influx of excess cash is not one of my 99 problems. Remember? My phone doesn't connect to the internet! I'm practically a pauper!

Unlike the endless stream of celebrity wealth that I digest during my daily entertainment consumption, I don't have to agonize about choosing between taking the Benz or the Rolls to the Hamptons. (I'm rocking a used Honda Civic, baby.) I don't walk into a Carrie Bradshaw clothing mecca each day only to whine that I have nothing to wear. Don't get me wrong, I do my fair share of whining. I just do it crouched in the back of the closet that I share with Husband (usually after I've hit  my head on his t-shirt drawer).

When entering a store, my carnal instinct is suddenly bypassed by the uncontrollable need to speed walk past the shimmering beauty of new merchandise straight to the back on the hunt for beloved red tags and clearance signs.

The bane of my existence is summarized in this sad fact: I'm plagued with the consistent constraints of living ...DUN DUN DUUUUN......on a budget.

And let's be honest. As fiscally responsible as this is - it's boring as anything. Yes, I know. It gives you a chance to be creative and learn how to 'live lean'. It sounds so nice when you put it that way, but even the biggest homebody (which I am) can only stand so many nights of playing 'bored'-games and stealing my parents' Netflix.

Saying no gets old pretty fast.

I want to work out. Can I go to the gym? You need a membership for that, so no. I'll just awkwardly do pilates in my living room. Can I try on this dress I'm drooling over? What if it looks good and I want to buy it? The pain of leaving it lonesome on that hanger isn't worth it. No. Can I drive to Acadia at the drop of a dime to enjoy a hike? Gas is $4 a gallon. $4!! And where is my tank now? Oh a 1/4? So..No. Would I like to go on a date with Husband more than once a month? Yes. Does going to a restaurant/bar/movie theater/bowling alley (don't judge) still cost money? Okay, then no.

See what I mean?

Living on a budget in the colder months....Well, sometimes I get cabin fever.

When I do, it usually results in going shopping impulsively or forcing Husband to take me to dinner where I have more than my share of rich/fried food and beer. It always seems like a great idea at the time (YEAH! DAMN THE MAN! I'M GONNA EAT THIS WHOLE PLATE OF SWEET POTATO FRIES!) But at the end of it all I end up in the line at TJ Maxx with bags of returns (yeah, even my splurges are calculated) or with a stomach ache and low self-esteem from shoveling trans fats into my body.

So this past week, I started spiraling into self pity. It was not one of my proudest moments. I basically wanted to conduct my life like a Real Housewife...you know, "Oh I'll just order the blah blah blah...because I can. Oh these sunglasses? $24 thousand. Did you know? And then I'll flip a table because I have so many real problems...like gossiping about my fake friends."

I told you - not a personal high.

Regardless, I decided there must be another way to trick myself into feeling like I'm rolling in it. As usual my solution was food related. (This should not surprise you.)

What can I afford?

Ah, the beauty of post-Easter candy sales.

After diving into the red bin in the front of Rite Aid (yet another low moment), I quickly decided I'd be making a dessert. Not just any dessert. A peanut butter chocolate layer cake stuffed with 80% off Easter peanut butter cup eggs.

Feast your eyes on this goodness.

Step One: (PREHEAT OVEN to 350 F) Whisk together 2 cups flour (I use whole wheat pastry), 2 teaspoons baking soda, 2/3 cup unsweetened cocoa, and 1/4 teaspoon salt. Set aside.

Step Two: Combine 1 stick softened butter (1/2 cup) and 1 1/3 cup granulated sugar and beat until well combined.

Step Three: Add 1 cup egg substitute (I'm trying to save your hearts, people) and 2 teaspoons vanilla to butter/sugar. Beat well.

Step Four: Alternately add dry mix from step one and 1 cup of low-fat buttermilk starting and ending with dry mix. It's worth the hassle for batter maximum fluffiness.

IT'S SO FLUFFY! I'M GONNA DIE!

Step Five: Split batter into two buttered and floured cake pans. What? You don't own two round cake pans? Me neither! So in my case, two square glass baking dishes. (Not ideal, but you can make it work)

Step Six: Bake for 30-50 minutes. Yes, it can differ this much depending on what pans you use and how lame or awesome your oven is. Keep an eye on these bad boys and you should be set.

Step Seven: Let cakes cool completely. Remove from pans. If you're blessed with real circular cake pans - good for you, you're done! If you're a sap like me with square pans - take a small plate that fits inside the square cake and trim off excess. Eat excess. (haHA! Saps for the win!)

Now for the best part...the filling.

Completely worth losing the respect of all the cashiers at Rite Aid.

Step One: Acquire a large bag of peanut butter cup eggs after shamelessly pawing through piles of leftover Easter candy at your local drugstore. Chop into small chunks. Place in freezer. Don't worry if your freezer is stuffed full....see below

Where there's a will there's a way.

Step Two: Make peanut butter frosting. And no, I'm not giving you the recipe.

You're probably like, "Oh Lily, you're so funny. You're going to give it to us. This is just the set up for some cheap one-liner, right?" Wrong, friends. Frosting is made from butter, milk, confectioners sugar, and good salty peanut butter, but I'm not giving you the ratio. Combine them to your taste and make sure it's sturdy in texture and can hold up to being squished between two glorious cakes.

If you're lucky (or awesome like me), it should look something like this.

Step Three: Take half of the frosting and mix in 3/4 of the chopped peanut butter cups. Spread mixture on top of bottom cake layer.

Step Four: Stack second cake and spread remaining frosting on top.

 

Step Five: Make a simple chocolate ganache by combing approximately 9 oz of good dark chocolate chips with 1 cup of half and half (or heavy cream if you're going big) in a double boiler over medium heat. Stir until smooth and thickened.

 Step Six: Remove from heat. Pour over cake.

 Step Seven: Avoid drooling on cake while smoothing with angled spatula. Cover with remaining peanut butter cups

Step Seven: Cut, Eat, Soak in the glory of being spoiled with chocolately goodness, Repeat.

Hopefully by this point most of you beautiful readers have caught on that I haven't really stopped being sarcastic. My life (and statistically speaking probably yours, too) is not pathetic, constrained, or empty. Although, I'll be the first to admit that I feel that way sometimes often. Why? Well, we have good fortune to live in a world where status has become the crux of how we rate the success of our lifestyle. How many times can we shop per week? What model car do we drive? Where do we go on vacation and how often? What logo shamelessly promotes itself on our t-shirts?

For example: "Is the new iphone out yet? How about NOW?? Only 4 days, 3 hours, and 31 minutes! I swear I'll be the first one to get it!"

Followed by..."I GOT THE NEW iPHONE, SUCKERZ!

Followed by..."ARE YOU KIDDING there's already a NEWER model being released?!?!!"

Even if I had the resources of Jay Z, Ryan Seacrest (that guy has really moved up since American Idol Season 1), and all the Real Housewives combined, there's no way I (or anyone) could keep up unless I made it my utmost priority.

Yes, you're catching on.

That's exactly my point. I like knowing how to survive without being able to act on my every whim. I'm proud to know how to 'live lean' and be creative with my time and resources. I bet Ryan Seacrest doesn't know that Monopoly gets infinitely more fun when Free Parking includes getting the last chocolate chip cookie and landing in jail means you have to yell embarrassing facts out the window of your studio apartment. I bet Willow Smith doesn't enjoy drawing sidewalk chalk portraits as much as I do.

So, when that new car mocks you from the dealership or the sparkly dress taunts you from the store window, go home...make this cake...and remember that it probably tastes a lot better when traveling from your 1990's oven onto your paper plate than ordered from a menu.

When gas prices get you down or cutbacks slash your income in half, remember that you have knowledge and wealth in your life that Madonna could never buy (or choke out of you with her terrifying biceps).

I am relentlessly cool.

PS: IT'S OPPOSITE DAY!

No seriously.

Let it be declared! INTERWEB PEEPLZ, i am totes unkewl.

 ...As if I'll have to convince you after of declaring it "opposite day" - what a game changer...yikes

Here's the truth of it folks, I'm righteously uncool by my generation's standards. I'm not fishing for compliments. (although, I am having a good hair day should you be so inclined to leave me a flattering comment)

This declaration is just my way of being honest - which is becoming more and more difficult in our age of profile pics (oh excuse me, cover photos - see, I haven't even gotten timeline yet) and "Youtubes" (as many a tech-savvy Mainer would say).

Here's a few pieces of solid evidence supporting my uncool status and you'll have to take my word on these since this is The World Wide Web and for all you know I could be a 63 year old man...(but I'm not, I swear)

Uncoolness Evidence:

1. Much to the dismay of many of my classier friends, I am the kind of girl who shamelessly wears sandals even if I don't have a pedicure. (Pasty nail beds, meet the world.)

2. You love Queen? Me too! But I still have to mumble my way through a few lines of Bohemian Rhapsody.

3. Interested in obscure 60's models wearing Chanel/cover art from a hip new album/cityscapes of far off lands ? You won't find them posted on my Facebook - you'll probably find me and the Husband posing awkwardly with whatever food we happen to be eating, which is in fact the complete opposite of Chanel.

4. I don't post Instagram photos. I can't play Words with Friends with you (though if I could I'd dominate!). I am useless if you need to find out the score of the so and so game while in the middle of nowhere. BECAUSE I DON'T HAVE AN iPHONE. In fact my phone can't even access the Internet. (I know, it's a lot to take in.)

5. I married Husband at the ripe ol' age of 22. No more dating around, eye flirting with mysterious men, endless "me time", or indulging in girly stuff like...cleanliness. 

6. I don't brush my hair nearly enough. And it's not because I have waving/thick hair. I have no excuse.

 

7. Looking for a friend who will never embarrass you in public....look elsewhere. I make up terrible jingles about basic household objects on a daily (read as: hourly) basis. They often (read as: always) include the most awkward dances you've ever seen.

8. No one has ever described me as "Swaggin" - though I desperately wish someone would. (Not you, Husband. YOU DON'T COUNT)

Let's be clear. I'm not mocking Millenial coolness. If anything I often suffer from the twinge of jealously that comes from having too many stylish, socially capable, and relevant friends. (I love you all, but damn you're so trendy! How do you tolerate me?)

I mean, I'm not completely clueless.

I don't collect dragon statues or Precious Moments figurines.

I can't quite keep up with the Kardashians, but I'm well aware of their antics (72 days, Kim? Well at least you got to wear Vera. And Kourtney, you really shouldn't dye your hair while preggo).

I shower every day (I mean unless I'm in a hurry...or I'm gonna work out later anyways...or I don't feel like it...yeah never mind) I know how to drive a Prius without getting overwhelmed by all the buttons, and I have a self-possessed sense of style that I'm quite pleased with at times....mostly when I don't spill something on myself within the first hour of getting dressed.

So, all this pondering got me thinking about food. (obviously.) What is the least cool food? I came up with quite a substantial list. And then like a pile of slush (it's wasn't exactly a bolt of lightning kind of revelation) it came to me.

Soup.

Soup sucks. I love it, but in theory it sucks.

The lamest soup of all you ask? Let's see....Pea. It's the soup you always picture as one step above gruel during the French Revolution. It's green. 

What is less cool than a pea? 

People, just look at this little guy.  

Pathetic!

As the next step in this admittedly over extended metaphor, I decided to see if I couldn't make a slammin dish from the the lamest of the lame. So I did my best with this lil fellow and three cups of his friends and family. (ew...creepy word choice...sorry)

SPLIT PEA SOUP

Step #1: First things first, dice 2 cups of celery, carrots, and onion

Should you run across an excessively assaulting onions as I did, you may want to consider some chic eye protection. 

Lily Fryer: NOT voted best dressed in high school

Step #2: Sautee veggies and 1-2 teaspoons Thyme in 2-4 Tablespoons olive oil over medium high heat for 10 minutes.

ACTION SHOT! HIGH VOLTAGE STIRRING!

Step #3:  Add 3 cups of (pathetic) dried split peas and cook with veggies for 2 minutes

It should look something like this...hopefully

 Step #4: Add 4 cups of vegetable stock or 2 cups stock and two cups water.

Organic stock complete with sly smile? BAM!

Step #5: Turn heat to low. Cover. Simmer for 60 minutes or until peas are tender. Add salt to taste.

I promise you this stuff is delicious.

So back to soup....

Soup: Noun - A sloppy conglomeration of ingredients that (in most cases) must be heated or else they become a disgusting coagulated mess. Sounds great huh?

But it basically sums up how I feel about my life sometimes. And maybe you feel this way too. (or maybe I'm horribly alone in this)

Often times, I'm a mess. I'm made up of a bunch of different parts: quirks, passions, and experiences. And usually I need the heat of a little drama/stress/competition (even though I say I hate it) to stir me up and motivate me to move forward. In theory, I suck. And you probably do too.

Even if you're one of the lucky social butterflies I envy, I'm betting that even on your best day you squirm in your skin a little. Part of that comes with the territory of being 20 something, but some of it just comes from being human. (if only negative-emotion-eliminating-technology had caught up by now! sheesh...)

Regardless...Here's the great thing: You're fantastic. Don't think so? I bet you're wrong. I don't care if you collect dragon statues AND Precious Moments and you've never heard of our favorite cosmetically-altered, reality show Armenians.

Not to get too philosophical on you all, but I'm pretty fed up with feeling lame about myself while scanning over pictures of other people's island vacations, family portraits that appear to be straight out of a Ralph Lauren ad, closets full of designer shoes, or statuses about paying off their debts to Sallie Mae (which up until recently I had written off as inconceivably impossible).

There are times when I just need a slap myself. Like, "Wake up, Fryer! Even the most blessed people have issues and imperfections!" (Well, except for Kate Winslet who I'm convinced is made of Marylin Monroe's DNA and porcelain) 

So yeah, back to soup....As any cook will tell you, soup is the best thing to make out of damaged goods - and truthfully, aren't we all a little damaged? So figure out what makes you, you - and instead of running from it - love it.

Throw it all together. Mix it up. Heat it up and Keep it boiling, my little peas. Just do you. You're going places.

And even though I'm clearly no expert on the matter (see below), I think you're pretty cool.

   

Told you.