Mommy and Me

Hiya Pals! Can I tell you how much I love the weekend? Seriously, it seems like every weekend has been fantastic lately. I always start it out with my Biff (on THURSDAY, no less), spend Friday through Sunday with the fam, and then have a school-free Monday. What? Schedule perfection? I think so. I think another major component to my cheery disposition is that I feel like I am actually accomplishing things.

I have gotten on a new routine of waking up at 5 am to work. You might think I’m crazy, but you're not the one analyzing the heck out of Bob Dylan (hereafter Frog Man or The Lej), now are you?

My reasoning behind the madness is as follows:

Number one: In the mornings, my brain is still half asleep, allowing me only to focus at one thing at a time.

Letter B: In the mornings, my brain is still half asleep, refusing to let my body move from one position and forcing me to stay put at my desk.

… and Number C: It’s dark out and no one is awake. Those who know me are aware that I am quite the talker and would rather be right next to someone chattering all day than by myself. My poor mother feels the bulk of this burden. Here’s a clip to demonstrate my daily custom when my mom is around.

Have I ever told you how awesome my mom is and how much I love her (When she reads this she’s gonna be all, “What do you want?”)? Ha. Oh, Moms. It would appear that I am completely independent in my mother’s absence, but as soon as she is around, I find that I am suddenly debilitated and become unbelievably needy. I have yet to figure out the reason for this. But, I digress. By 7:30, I could no longer stave off the hunger and had to make myself some brec (workin’ the abbrevs today).

Blueberry muffin and Greek yogurt with cocoa powder, strawberries, and bananas.

I chowed down on my dessert-like breakfast and prettied up to go see Unknown with Mumsy and Gigantor. Liam Neeson rocked my socks. The movie definitely had that Taken feel to it, but I suppose the common denominator is the focus on the European Underworld. Scuzzy. Sketchy. Fantastic for movie-making.

After the movie, Gigantor left Moms and me behind to hit the retail. But first, we headed straight for Five Bucks (more commonly known as Starbucks). I wanted a skinny latte, and Mama wanted a whole milk latte with whip cream. After a heated debate, we settled for a skinny Cinnamon Dolce Latte with whip cream on top. I think the barista was mucho confusedo.

Sweet compromise.

Hopped up on caffeine, we shopped around, played makeup at the Clinique counter, and then…

Frosty. Yum.

Fries dipped in frosty. Even more yum.

Gasp! I know. Fast food. So bad, but oh, so good.  

By the time we got home, I was completely famished. Ok, not so much. But it was 3 pm and I all I had consumed from 7:30 until now was a protein bar, half a confused hot beverage, half a frosty, and half a medium fry. I was in desperate need of a whole something-or-other.

Salad beast: lettuce, turkey, red peppers, feta, corn, salt, pepper, and apple cider vinegar.

The rest of the afternoon was spent watching my Mama do my auntie’s hair. While I observed the chemical process, I made dinner.

Tuna melt with mozzarella cheese, dill pickle, and carrots.

Yowsa! This was to die for. My taste buds were freaking out on me. I think it is probably because tuna melts are one of my most favorite forgotten foods of all time. You know what I’m talking about- those foods or dishes you love, forget about, and rediscover due to a random craving? Yeah, I thought so.

Tummy happy, and hair beautified and out-the-door, I curled up on the couch for some more mommy-and-me time. *Smiles*

I woke up Sunday morning to visit my close friend, Butt Crack of Dawn, and worked on Senior Hell a little more. After diligently typing away, thoughts of breakfast began to lure me into the kitchen, pulling me away from my dear, dear thesis (No, really, I was kicking and screaming).

Eating another dang muffin... waste not, want not. Muffin accompanied by strawberry, chocolate, espresso smoothie.

Later, I accompanied the parentals to church and then returned with one thing on my mind. Do I even need to say it?

Cantaloupe topped with chicken salad on a bed of baby spinach. Doesn't it look sooo posh?

Given Florida’s emergence from its momentary lapse in weather identity crisis (we’ve spent 3 months bundled up. It’s not normal), I decided to take advantage of the sun and get some rays.

The next 5 hours was quite similar to Saturday afternoon: shopping with Mama (with no purchasing), talking to my honey-bunny, making dinner and watching TV.

Dinner was much less glamorous: Spaghetti squash with olive oil and Parmesan and quinoa with corn and marinara sauce.

 What an awesome weekend it has been spending time with my lovely mother. I’m usually not one for monotony, but in this case, I can make an exception.

Mediterranean Chicken Quiche

I got s creative streak in me on Friday and came up with this yummy quiche! I have used many quiche recipes and I decided to combine them all into one awesome one! Try it without the chicken for a vegetarian option.

• 1 cup low fat sour cream
• 1 fat free cottage cheese- Don’t worry if you don’t like cottage cheese! It melts and makes a great, tasty consistency.
• 7 eggs
• 2 tbsp Italian seasoning
• 1tsp salt
• 1 tsp pepper
• 1 cup cooked chicken, chopped (I used the breasts)- The chicken can be cooked any way. This is perfect for leftover rotisserie chicken or grilled chicken.
• ¼ cup feta cheese, chopped
• 2 Roma tomatoes, chopped
• ½ cup scallions
• Optional: 2 cups spinach, chopped- If you add spinach, use 8 eggs instead of 7.

Grease a 9x11 baking dish with non-stick cooking spray. Pre-heat oven to 350 degrees. Mix eggs, sour cream, cottage cheese, and seasonings in a large mixing bowl. Set aside.

 Mix chicken, feta, tomatoes, scallions, (and spinach), and pour into the baking dish. Pour the egg mixture on top and make sure that all of the meat and veggies are covered.

 Place in oven and bake for 1 hour or until light golden brown on top and firm to the touch. It will puff up in the oven. Remove and set out for 10 minutes to set. It will fall slightly in the middle while cooling. Enjoy!

Pretending to Be French

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Ooh, la la! Bonjour tout le monde!

I planned on discussing this in a later post, but since I read the article called, “The No Diet Diet”, I have really been dwelling on the earth-shattering ideas that were revealed to me. It’s not like I wasn’t aware of these concepts, but it was just really motivational to see someone being a part of the same battle that I face every day (I say that like its some momentous, life or death thing). When I am interested in something, I always want to know more about it, and in perusing the internet, I stumbled across the book, French Women Don’t Get Fat. The author is a French woman, which is fitting, and in the book, she shares the secrets of how French women manage to stay thin while living in the food capital of the world, or anywhere else for that matter. Cursed French!

Obviously one of the most important things for French women is CONTROL- portion control and self-control. They indulge and eat whatever they want, but all in moderation. The French eat with all 5 senses- sight, taste, smell, sound, feel (in case you’ve had a momentary brain fart and can’t remember all of them)- and savor not just the taste, but the entire experience.

There were tons of other significant principles of the book, but the one that stuck out to me the most was passion. Having a passion for food. I always thought I had this passion. I love food. I love cooking, thinking about, looking at, smelling, tasting, and discovering food. But encumbering my complete, unfettered zeal for cuisine, is that guilty conscience asking, “What is eating this food going to do your figure?”  The day after indulging in not-as-healthy-as-I-usually-eat foods is always followed with a strict menu and more strenuous workout than usual to make up for the extra calories I might have packed on.

I want to be able to enjoy both sides of the process- the cooking, preparation, and creation, as well as the enjoyment and pleasure that comes along with eating it- without worrying about how it is negatively affecting my body (within reason obviously). So Wednesday, I wanted to experiment. I decided to drop the calorie counting and make believe that I was French.

Wednesday I was craving a sweet breakfast and a variety of different things. I wanted some sort of bread item, fruit, and a dairy product, and my mind suddenly jumped to calories. That’s going to be high. But, I pushed those diet thoughts away and decided to eat all three things. 

I find that I always feel the need to have two of something, like slices of bread or both sides of a bagel, for instance. But today, I fought those feelings and only took half a cinnamon apple bun. I paired it with cottage cheese and an apple. To add just a little naughty to my meal, I put some honey on top of the bun. No measuring.

I sat down at the table instead of in front of the TV or my computer with my breakfast and a cup of coffee. I wanted to savor all of the foods that were before me. I ate slowly and really tasted everything. Low and behold, I could not finish my breakfast (I was tempted to take my temperature)!

Fueled up for the day, I went to Journey’s End to spend time with my furry friends. After being sufficiently covered in dog hair, I came home to eat lunch. In keeping with the French feeling of the day, I made Tarragon Chicken Salad.   

Tarragon gives anything a French twist. I had a little scoop of the salad with a pickle. I leisurely ate away, not concerned with the fact that there was mayo and sour cream in this dish. It was delicious.

Later, my mom and I went window shopping. This seems to be our go-to for solving boredom. I came across some interesting apparel.

Hat/Scarf. Functional, practical, AWESOME

Feathered hat.

I'm sure the French would be appalled.

For dinner, I made another ethnic meal. I had a glass of wine to add to my ever-so-cultured day.

Cabernet Merlot blend. Quinoa with tomatoes, cilantro, and southwest seasoning. Butternut Squash.

Eating dinner without worrying about the calorie count or if I was eating too much, and paying attention to eat luscious mouthful was such a delightful experience. Exactly what I was going for. Now, I am not saying that health should go out the window. On the contrary, I am saying that being healthy should be pleasurable but balanced. Who wants to live their life thinking that every bite is a mouthful of calories? I don’t. I want to stop looking at food simply as nourishment, and start thinking about the experience. Food should be shared, enjoyed, and tasted, smelled, pondered, created, relished, appreciated, and savored. We should always try to take pleasure in the food we are eating. Sometimes, you just have to pretend to be French.

Tarragon Chicken Salad

In my attempt to channel my inner French woman, I came up with this delicious, simple recipe. Sometimes plain ol' chicken salad just doesn't cut it. Why not make it French?

Tarragon Chicken Salad

• 2 cooked chicken breasts (you can use rotisserie chicken),  chopped
• 1 large carrot, chopped
• 2 stalks of celery, chopped
• 3 tbsp. almonds, roughly chopped
• 1/4 cup sweet onion, finely chopped
• 2 tbsp mayonaise
• 1 tbsp sour cream
• 2 tbsp dried tarragon
• 2 tbsp white wine (give or take)
• salt and pepper to taste
• red grapes for garnish

Put chicken, carrots, celery, onion, and almonds into a mixing bowl. 

 In a separate container with a lid, combine mayo, sour cream, tarragon, and wine. Shake container until well mixed and pour over chicken mixture. Stir it up and season to taste.

 Cut a few grapes in half and garnish. Enjoy!