Thursday, February 26, 2004

Sometimes, the knife-wielding’s only for the broccoli
Yesterday, I called flea while I was making dinner. Now, I knew before I called her that we’d talk about this, but called anyway and, sure enough, she asked me what I was making for dinner (because I told her that’s what I was doing) and I couldn’t very well lie to her, despite how embarrassing the truth was. And now I must confess: I had a big-time slacker dinner last night, one with little nutritional value, one that makes me think I should consider resigning from the blog, because what kind of example am I?

I made Butoni four-cheese ravioli, with Prego sauce with Fresh Mushrooms, and Pepperidge Farm garlic bread. The only saving grace was that I steamed some organic broccoli.

For dessert: peanut-butter sandwich cookies from the Girl Scouts.

Sad. It’s so very sad. Do you feel my pain?

Wednesday, February 25, 2004

Baffled by broccoli? Stumped by steak? Overwhelmed by onions?
Yeah, you get the idea. The KWF brigade is pleased to announce the creation of an email address to which you can send all of the random questions that have been bothering you about cooking or food. How long can I keep paprika? (Not as long as you'd hoped, unless you're just going for color.) Can I use a drill bit on a really big potato to make a hole to stuff flavored butters into before grilling? (Yes, but only if the drill bit is clean.) What's the best and easiest way to prepare butterfly porkchops? (Braise them in apple juice or V8.) How can I get my kid to eat the things they hate but I know they should eat? (Hell if I know. Ask flea.)

Bring 'em on. We're ready. The turnaround won't be speedy, but it'll be worth the wait.


Tuesday, February 24, 2004

Happy Mardi Gras

Just wanted to wish all my Christian friends a happy Mardi Gras, and present the Old Farmer's Almanac recipe for
Shrove Tuesday Pancakes
  • 4 eggs, beaten
  • 1 cup milk
  • 3 tablespoons sugar
  • 2 cups flour, sifted
  • ½ teaspoon salt
    Mix the ingredients in the order given. Drop the batter by spoonfuls on a preheated greased griddle or skillet. Brown on both sides over low heat.

    Sorry I haven't been posting more here, but it's been a kind of a rough, um, winter. :)
  • It's Not for the Dormroom Anymore.

    I just read a blog entry written by a 15-year-old about smoking pot for the first time. Not surprisingly, she thought it was swell. While I'm not going to lose much sleep over her smoking the occasional bowl with some friends, I would like to let her know that if she starts doing the wake-n-bake, she will be an official pothead, and should probably pull back a bit before she loses her motivation to do anything but wear tie-dyed shirts and complain about the government while sitting weasel-eyed in her parents' basement.

    I know this because from ages 15-25 I was a stoner chick through and through, and let me tell you, it's done permanent damage to my sense of fashion and musical taste.

    Here's the kind of shit that happens to you when you're a pothead:

    My college roommate Susan, her boyfriend, and I smoked a joint apiece my freshman year, then got the munchies for Ramen Noodles, that supercheap MSG laden "soup" that nobody eats as soup and just mixes the flavor packet directly with the cooked noodles. We filled my hotpot with water from the bathroom sink, turned it on, and crowded around it, staring intently for what seemed like half an hour, but we were on stoner time so who knows, really? After a loooooooong time, it occured to us that surely by now the water must at least be getting warm. It wasn't. What was going on? Was the hotpot broken? Oh, no! The hotpot is broken! Buzz kill, dude! What are we going to do? Could we borrow someone else's hotpot? If we did that, they'd know we were stoned! Then we'd have to share both our pot and the noodles with them! Oh, the humanity!

    After another undeterminable amount of time had passed, we realized that the hotpot was not, in fact, plugged in.

    Imagine another, say, 8 years of this behavior before it finally sunk in that I didn't necessarily have to be this stupid.

    Here's what I'm doing with Ramen Noodles now. Note the improvement:

    3/4 C natural peanut butter
    1 1/4 C hot water
    3 T cider vinegar
    1 1/2-2 T tamari sauce
    3/4 C toasted sesame seeds
    4 1/2 T chinese sesame oil
    1/2 t crushed red pepper
    1/2 lb. tofu, cut into small chunks
    2 pkgs ramen noodles
    1 medium cucumber, cut into bite-sized chunks
    4 scallions, minced
    3/4 C finely-chopped cashews or peanuts

    1.) In a medium-sized saucepan, combine the peanut butter and the hot water, stirring with a whisk until they form a smooth mixture.

    2.) Add the vinegar, tamari, sesame seeds, sesame oil, crushed red pepper, and tofu chunks. Stir until blended. Set aside for now.

    3.) Open your package of ramen noodles, take the tiny envelope of artificial flavoring, and place it in the garbage can.

    4.) Boil the noodles in a saucepot of salted water for no longer than 3 minutes. If you are using a hotpot, for the love of God plug the stupid thing in.

    5.) Heat the peanut sauce over a low flame, and add the cooked noodles. Mix well.

    6.) Serve in individual bowls, topped with chopped cucumber, scallions, and chopped nuts.

    Monday, February 23, 2004

    Every now and again, I go on vacation and think of the Iron Chef. Ladybug and I have different ideas of what the best way to spend free time is, but we usually take at least one long weekend a year and rent a cabin in a remote and lovely part of northern California. We bring plenty of books, groceries, cookbooks, more books, and, if she's lucky, our dog. Sometimes the "remote" area becomes more remote than we'd anticpated-- for example, a mudslide along Hwy. 1 can make a trip an hour longer, and place the cabin an hour futher from a grocery store. Bad weather can also make driving down the muddy mountain road less appealling than usually, thereby making us essentially cabin-bound. We do well with enjoying each other's company, making jigsaw puzzles, and having lots of sex. The cooking, however, can be a challenge.

    As you (hopefully) know, Iron Chef is a Japanese cooking competition that involves the use of a mystery ingredient, often used in every course of a dinner. Sometimes, our vacations are like that. We discover that if, for example, I have brought the ingredients to make buttermilk biscuits, and decide that I really want to make cookies instead, compromises must be made. Or that if the "fully stocked kitchen" turns out to mean a small microwave and a toaster oven, meals must be re-planned.

    For our honeymoon, we really lucked out, and not only had beautiful kitchen with ocean views, but we also happened to wander into the town of Mendocino the afternoon of the farmer's market. The two of us managed to happily eat five pounds of ripe peaches in three days. (If you're wondering, that would include a blueberry peach cobbler, a salad with baby spinach, goat cheese, peaches and toasted pecans, and a pizza that included peaches and fresh basil (no tomato sauce, just a little balsamic glaze).

    The worst Iron Chef vacation included making a "baked apple" inspired dessert in a coffee pot using an apple and some small packets of jam. We really, really wanted dessert. It sucked, but the laughter was uproarious.

    The most recent Iron Chef vacation is (flour) tortillas. I'm sure you know that you can make quesadillas. You may even know the importance of sticky, melty cheese on both sides of the other ingredients, so that the quesadilla won't flop open and spill its ingredients. Non-Mexican themed ones are fine-- fresh dill, havarti and smoked salmon, for instance. Breakfast burritos can be made with scrambled eggs, cheese and potatoes (green onion and/or salsa added for me). But now I am totally into the tortilla as dessert mechanism. They can be spread with butter on one side and jam on the other. Butter and turbinado sugar. Butter and vanilla sugar. Butter, brown sugar and cinnamon. Butter and butter. Butter and white sugar and baking spice. The Iron Chef vacation has made it to our house, and I've had tortilla based desserts more nights than not. I've also learned that wearing pajamas or using a plate is essential. Melted butter is just too messy (esp. if the tortilla is rolled, thereby directing butter directly onto my lower abdomen) and stains are not fun.

    Thursday, February 19, 2004

    No-bake cookies
    Really, there’s not a redeeming thing about this recipe. No one I know will eat these. I, of course, love them, and made them last night in a fit of needing something comforting that will not leave me (even if it is because no one else wants it).

    No-bake cookies
    2 c. sugar
    2 sticks butter
    1/2 c. milk
    ½ c. cocoa
    3 c. quick oats
    a little vanilla
    1/2 c. peanut butter

    Bring the sugar, butter, and milk to a boil, stirring constantly, and boil 1-1 1/2 minutes. Add the remaining ingredients. Mix well. Drop on wax paper or a cookie sheet.

    Alas, I couldn't find a sound file, but here are the lyrics to "Sardines and Pork & Beans."

    Wednesday, February 18, 2004

    On the off chance that video footage of me in a bathing suit happens to show up on the Internet, let me say this:

    I am a vegetarian, no matter what I sing in that song.

    Okay, so my real point is to subtly deter certain cobloggers from selling their souls to get my father's VHS cassette converted to a digital form and hosted somewhere on the World Wide Web.

    When I was nine years old, I had a fondness for a song about salty fish, legumes, and the tender, roasted flesh of a pig. In this song, I declared my affection for this trio of foods and my schedule for consuming them. In between the hip jerks and sparkly blue bathing suit, there was real art. True art. In fact, it was High Art. That song had meaning and passion, and I know that some of the viewers had misty eyes which could not be hidden behind their laughter.

    Make no mistake: "Sardines and Pork & Beans" brings people to their knees.

    Monday, February 16, 2004

    Braised Fennel

    Wash about 3 fennel bulbs and cut them into wedges. I find they usually fall apart some, but no matter. Saute a minced garlic clove or two in olive oil with some crushed fennel seeds, add the fennel bulbs, some salt, and a splash of white wine or water. Cover and cook until tender (5-10 minutes depending on size of bulbs).

    Meanwhile, warm one T of olive oil or butter in a skillet, and about 1/4 cup of bread crumbs. Cook until they are coated with oil and crispy. When fennel is tender, transfer to a bowl, top with bread crumbs, grated parmesan, and some chopped fennel fronds.

    It's very good, but go easy on the salt because the cheese is salty.

    Friday, February 13, 2004

    VD Recipe
    Recipe from loyal KWF reader portia, headline shamelessly swiped from flea:

    lp's Chocolate Cake
    2 cups stout (such as Guinness)
    2 cups (4 sticks) unsalted butter
    1.5 cups unsweetened cocoa powder (preferably

    4 cups all purpose flour
    4 cups sugar
    1 T baking soda
    1.5 t salt
    4 large eggs
    1 and 1/3 cups sour cream

    2 cups whipping cream
    1 lb bittersweet (not unsweetened) or semisweet
    chocolate, chopped

    For Cake:
    Preheat oven to 350F. Butter three 8" round cake pans
    with 2" high sides. Line pan botttoms with parchment
    paper. Butter paper. Bring 2 cups stout and 2 cups
    butter to simmer in a heavy large saucepan over medium
    heat. Add cocoa powder and whisk until mixture is
    smooth. Cool slightly.

    Whisk flour, sugar, baking soda, and 1.5 t salt in
    large bowl to blend. Using electric mixer, beat eggs
    and sour cream in another large bowl to blend. Add
    stout-chocolate mixture to egg mixture and beat just
    to combine. Add flour mixture and beat briefly on slow
    speed. Using rubber spatula, fold batter until
    completely combined. Divide batter equally among
    prepared pans. Bake cakes until tester inserted into
    center of cakes comes out clean, about 35 minutes.
    Transfer cakes to rack, cool 10 minutes. Turn cakes
    out onto rack and cool completely.

    For Icing:
    Bring cream to simmer in heavy medium saucepan. Remove
    from heat. Add chopped chocolate and whisk until
    melted and smooth. Refrigerate until icing is
    spreadable, stirring frequently, about 2 hours.

    Place 1 cake layer on plate. Spreak 2/3 cup icing
    over. Top with second cake layer. Spread 2/3 cup icing
    over. Top with third cake layer. Spread remaining
    icing over top and sides of cake.

    Garnish with something pretty, like powdered sugar or
    rose petals or tangerine slices or white chocolate
    shavings. Eat cake. Pass out.


    Now, the KWFs don't make it a habit of posting recipes that they have not tried and loved. Or maybe we do. Who the hell knows? Enjoy this!

    Thursday, February 12, 2004

    This guy goes to a pet store because he wants to buy a bird. The woman at the store tells him she has this great parrot, a parrot he’ll just love. Parrot and man are introduced and a sale is made.

    The guy gets home with the parrot, gets him settled in his new cage, and the parrot starts cursing. Not just a little bit. A lot. The vilest curse words you’ve ever heard. And the man cannot get him to stop.

    So he calls the pet store and asks them if they have any advice. The woman who sold him the bird says, “Oh, right! I’m sorry I forgot to tell you about this. The thing to do is to stick him in your freezer for five minutes. No more, no less. He’ll stop cursing, then.”

    The guy’s a little alarmed. “The freezer?”

    “Yep. The freezer. Five minutes.”

    “You’re sure it won’t hurt him?”

    “Yep, I’m sure. He’ll be fine. And he’ll stop cursing.”

    So the guy waits for a while because the parrot’s quieted down. But, of course, the cursing starts again. And the guy can’t take it and says, “That’s it! You’re going in the freezer!” He sticks the bird in his freezer and sets the timer on his stove. He paces for the entire five minutes, worrying about the parrot.

    When the buzzer sounds, he throws open the freezer door and there’s the parrot, shivering and glaring at him. “Are you okay?” the guy says.

    The parrot nods.

    “Are you going to stop cursing?”

    The parrot nods.

    “Do you promise?”

    The parrot nods. “I just have one question.”

    “Okay, what’s your question?”

    “What did that chicken do?”

    Wednesday, February 11, 2004

    Kids Say the Darnedest...Wait A Minute, What Did He Just Say?

    Okay, the time he walked out of his bedroom, frowning into his toy cell phone, brow furrowed, randomly pressing buttons and muttering, "Shit," under his breath - yeah, I have to admit that was a pretty good imitation of me. He nailed it.

    But I had nothing to do with last night, when he was helping me make dinner.

    "What are we making?" he asked.

    "Just a casserole," I replied, dumping the sauteed vegetables into the buttered casserole dish.

    He repeated back what I had said, slowly, carefully, committing the new word to memory.

    "Just an asshole," he said.

    "Noooooo! Casserole! With a hard "C". Casserole."



    Most of the time I just ignore his lisping, figuring, well, he's four. He'll outgrow it. And I've been right so far, but best to nip this one in the bud before he tells someone he likes assholes or assholes are good or my mom has a great asshole.

    While we're on the subject, I also have to keep on him to quit calling grape juice "grape joo", because it makes me think of Magilla Gorilla, who my memory has evidently morphed with Grape Ape.

    Which just confuses me terribly, this mixing up of anthropomorphic cartoon primates, so I really wish he'd just pronounce the damned word correctly.
    Troubled by tofu? At a loss for what to do with it once you have it? Interested in trying it out, but baffled by the choices? Scared to death to eat something that wiggles like that when you open it? Freaked out by something made from the fermented curd of something else?

    Fear not! Look! (Hark?) It's a handy list of tofu resources! Yay!

    Cooking Solutions’ “Tofu 101”
    The Indiana Soybean Board explains what’s what
    A fine article on the benefits of soy foods
    A brief history of tofu

    My favorite tofu recipe of late is the spring rolls from (what else?) Deborah Madison's Vegetarian Cooking for Everyone. They're a little labor-intensive, though, so I'm just as likely to fry some extra-firm tofu (patted dry--drained only if I've planned that far ahead--and cut into flat triangles) in some Loriva Roasted Peanut Oil, then add it to this pad thai. Easy, cheap, and not as bad for me as it could be, particularly if I have some greens to serve with it.

    Tuesday, February 10, 2004

    Oreos as a visual aid
    Check out The True Majority's Oreo Movie. See, I knew they could be used for good! (Big thanks to bleeding heart for the heads up.)

    Monday, February 09, 2004

    Em got me How to be a Domestic Goddess by Nigella Lawson for our anniversary. It's great, and best of all it has luscious pictures. I showed my MIL the book when I got it. She found the picture for chocolate tarts with white-chocolate mascarpone filling and fresh raspberries. She said we needed to make it when the raspberries were in season.

    But as you all know, that isn't going to happen now. So, ignoring the fact that everyone kept bringing over sweets, and the fact that she wasn't really aware of what was going on, I made them on Saturday. It's probably the last thing I'll ever make for her. She enjoyed it. She actually ate more than half of one, which is amazing because she isn't eating much now. And they were good. Really, really good. Even with $8/pint out-of-season raspberries. But I don't know if I'll ever make them again.

    I actually modified the recipe (of course). Maybe I'll make it my own and call it Suzanne's Chocolate Raspberry Tarts. I don't know how we are going to get through all of the holidays without her. She and I would spend days in the kitchen together preparing.

    God I'm going to miss her. I never even got to make the braised fennel for her.
    Spring is coming. Really. I promise!
    I got my community-supported agriculture (CSA) subscription information in the mail this weekend. Woot!

    Friday, February 06, 2004

    Super Groovy Hippie Food for Kids

    Want to trick your kids into eating healthier? Babysitting some monkeys who eat like shit and you can't bear to stuff a burger down their throats? You feed them hippie food anyway and are looking for a new recipe? Or you just want a vegan meatball for your spaghetti sauce for your own self? Well, okay. If you insist.

    Tofu-Nut Balls

    1 cup cooked brown rice
    2 T tamari (or soy) sauce
    1/2 cup finely ground almonds
    1/2 pound tofu, mashed
    1/2 cup wheat germ

    Puree 3/4 cup rice, half the tofu, and the tamari sauce in a blender and whirl it around in there until it forms a thick paste

    Add the mixture from the blender to all the remaining ingredients. Mix well.

    Form little balls about 1-inch around. At this stage, you can either refrigerate the balls up to 24 hours before cooking, or cook them right away. To cook, either bake on a lightly greased tray, 30 minutes at 350, or do what I did and fry the buggers in a cast iron skillet over medium heat, turning (very!) gently every three minutes until they were a uniform brown.

    I served these with homemade baked french fries and organic applesauce with organic ketchup, and it was a big hit. The tofu balls also made excellent projectiles to hurl at one another after they were full, particularly since they explode into mushy pieces everywhere upon contact.

    Your kids will love them. Or they'll think they taste like ass, what the fuck do I know? I don't know your kids! Leave me alone! Sheesh.
    Comfort food
    I had a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day yesterday (nods to Alexander…oh, and the author). So I did what I always do: I hunkered down with a tall glass of milk and about 6 Double Stuff Oreos. And I watched basketball.

    I had a bit of an Oreo problem for a while—I managed to eat about a package a week. For a long time, though, I’ve only bought them when they’re on sale (really, $4 for Oreos is way too much, anyway). Yesterday was the first time in many moons that I had to have them—there was just no two ways about it. Nothing could soothe me the way the Oreo could.

    I know they’re terrible for me. They have really bad things in them like trans fat. I know people look askance at me when I admit to purchasing them. Eating them. Loving them. Depending on them when times are rough.

    And if that makes me a lesser person, somehow, then so be it.

    Thursday, February 05, 2004

    We Think You May Be Missing the Point of a Food Blog, Flea.

    Well, maybe so. But I can't help it. One of the books on my need-to-read list last year was Mary Roach's Stiff, a non-fiction book about the adventures of cadavers. For most of the book, she chats airily about the remains of people who have donated their bodies to science and the surprising way those remains are often used. But toward the end she veers off the subject and begins addressing more bizarre subjects such as cannibalism and people who gamely try a head transplant with what one would assume are unwilling monkeys and reanimate severed heads and other wholesome pursuits.

    What does this have to do with food? You ask. Surely you're not posting this crap solely to hurt us, are you? No! No no no! No...not really. Maybe a little. But mostly no.

    I did want to post these bit from the book, though:

    In 1971, [neurosurgeon Robert] White achieved the unthinkable. He cut the head off one monkey and connected it to the base of the neck of a second, decapitated monkey. The operation lasted eight hours and required numberous assistants, each having been given detailed instructions, including where to stand and what to say. White marked off everyone's position on the floor with chalk circles and arrows, like a football coach. The first step was to give the monkeys tracheotomies and hook them up to repirators, for their windpipes were about to be severed. Next White pared the two monkeys necks down to just the spine and the main blood vessels - the two carotid arteries carrying blood to the brain and the two jugular veins bringing it back to the heart. Then he whittled down the bone on the top of the body donor's neck and capped it with a metal plate, and did the same thing on the bottom of the head. (After the vessels were reconnected, the two plates were screwed together.) Then, using long, flexible tubing, he brought the circulation of the donor body over to supply its new head and sutured the vessels. Finally, the head was cut off from the blood supply of its old body.

    Still here? No? Well, I'll keep going anyway. Now, read this:

    [My conversation with White] has moved from White's lab to a booth in a nearby Middle Eastern restaurant. My recommendation to you is that you never eat baba ganoush or, for that matter, any soft, glistening gray food item while carrying on a conversation about monkey brains.

    So my point of all this is: the day after I read these excerpts, I went out to eat with fellow food-bloggers Emily and Brooke, and did exactly what Roach specifically warned me not to do - talk about monkey brains while eating baba ganoush. And I wasn't being rebellious in that "nobody tells ME I can't talk about monkey brains!" kind of way. It just kind of came up.

    Okay, I brought it up. Because I told Brooke that I thought of her when I read about severed monkey heads, for reasons of my own that I see no need to get into here. The important thing is this: that's what everyone wants to hear, isn't it? Brooke = severed monkey heads. What was I thinking? Why would I tell someone she reminded me of severed monkey heads? During consumption of a product that looks like runny monkey brains?

    But here's the really funny thing: She didn't seem to mind being compared to severed monkey heads. Emily sort of looked like she wanted the ground to open up and swallow her, or, more preferably, me, but Brooke just smiled and nodded. Severed monkey heads, you say? Sure, why not?

    But then again, this is a woman who happily talked about worms that embed themselves into your muscle tissue if you're unfortunate enough to eat undercooked infected meat while we were eating sushi last fall, so there you go.
    Pop, pop, Karmelkorn, poppin’ it fresh…
    When I was a kid, my mother owned a popcorn store. To be clear, it was popkorn. With a K. I hate that, now, but didn’t think it was odd at all at the time.

    Anyway, in addition to affording me the hideous opportunity of being written up AND grounded for doing something stupid at work, it also wrecked me for all future popcorn delights. No caramel corn meets my standards, which are very high, indeed. I find myself appalled at the small, flat kernels that pass for popcorn in movie theaters, as well as the move away from coconut oil (oh, I know it!).

    Just before it was time to close up at the end of the night, I liked to make a last batch of Karmelkorn with peanuts—extra brown sugar, light on the nuts. And I’d eat a bunch of it as hot as I could stand it.

    Nothing like that. Nothing.

    (Nods to flea for somehow reminding me of the terrible jingle from which I stole the title of this entry. One year over the holidays, my dad thought it would be good to put the jingle on endless loop. I think the government uses that, now, to extract information from people. But I’m not 100% certain.)

    Tuesday, February 03, 2004

    Somewhere around 15 years ago, my then-partner and I watched a movie in which a woman was trying to patch things up with her SO. She told him "I made you a dinner with all your favorite foods." This resulted in much hillarity on our parts, becaus there are many foods that I love which I would not love together. Or at least that I believe that I would not love together. We made jokes about fried-chicken-and-blueberry ice cream or crabmeat-cinnamon bagel crepes with hot fudge. Now, whenever I find a way to combine previously-unimaginable ingredients together, it thrills me.

    My nominees in this category are:
    onions and strawberries. Romaine lettuce, toasted almonds, a half honey, half balsamic dressing, sliced strawberries and sliced red onions that have had a nice bath in ice water.
    cilantro, cinnamon, pumpkin seeds. Green mole, on top of polenta squares, served warm and with the option of goat cheese for the non-vegan guests.
    honey, lemon, ginger and cayenne. From a great little restaurant in Reno, which apparently has a dessert that manages to combine carob. avocados and brazil nuts. The honey, lemon, ginger and cayenne was just the perfect thing when coming down with a cold.

    Anyone else with strange-but-yummy combos?
    Spring is comin'!
    It might seem early to me, but I suspect that not all of our readers live in the great white north. Here's a great link that Emilin sent to me a while ago, where you can find farmer's markets, family farms and other places you can find organic, sustainably grown produce.

    I've been dreaming about my produce subcription for a while now. In honor of that, we're going to have cream-cheese-and-pesto grilled on multigrain bread sometime next week (this week's already planned!). If you've never tried that combo, do it. If possible, use some of the pesto you froze last summer. And if you didn't freeze any last year, make yourself a note to do so. There's nothing like the blast of summer in the frozen days of February from pesto made at the height of basil season.

    Monday, February 02, 2004

    Saturday's supper
    I know you're all dying to know what I ate. The wait is over! I ate devilled eggs. And only devilled eggs, because everything else (including the salad) had meat in it. Well, okay, not really. I also ate half a slice of bread.

    Much later, when I thought I could do so without hurting anyone's feelings, I ate a bowl of cereal.

    On Sunday, before my flight, I needed a quick lunch. My mom's suggestion? A ham sandwich.

    She really doesn't get the whole vegetarian thing.
    Attention food-lovin' friends!
    Get thee over to Nyarlathotep's Miscellany. She needs some help with chicken roasting.

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