Monthly Archives: October 2013

An experiment.

Tonight, I decided to go ahead and make a recipe that I read about on one of my favorite food blogs: chicken liver ragu.  Things got off to a rocky start when I had to visit three different grocery stores to obtain the aforementioned livers, but once I decide to do something I really just like to plough ahead in spite of whatever red flags a benevolent universe plants in my path. I guess now is probably the time to mention that I don’t really like liver all that much, that I’ve had a similar dish at a great restaurant and only sort of liked it, and that I have a weird, prissy aversion to dealing with raw meatLALALALALALA can’t hear you, voice in the back of my mind, this is a great idea, just look at that nice picture.

Problem the first: did you know chicken livers come frozen in a little tub and that they will be impossible to defrost in anything resembling a reasonable amount of time? At this point, I had cut up all my vegetables, and it was too late to turn back, so I went ahead and destroyed some chicken livers, ripping them apart like a kitchen-dwelling godzilla, covering so, so many things in chicken blood. Then I proceeded to trim them and finely chop them. Just kidding, because if you’ve ever dealt with raw liver, you know it’s basically like trying to finely chop jello.

Problem the second: why is there so much blood in livers? I mean, they are like all blood. Just bloody bloody blood, all on my hands, drying into a sticky, shiny horror show. My clothes splattered in chicken blood. At this point, I begin to feel like I’m in one of those American Horror Story voodoo rituals (an aside: Angela Bassett, I love you, where have you been?).

Problem the third: the ragu is finished, and it’s delicious, but it tastes like liver, but it’s delicious, but it tastes like liver. Like 63% of my brain is totally sold on the ragu, but also 32% of my brain is like:

5% of my brain wishes I were asleep already. That is always the case.

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La Ley

Yesterday, I suddenly remembered how much I liked these two songs like ten years ago…it was during this horrible five mile run that I did (at least it ended at a brewery). I’ve never run so far before (sad?), so I guess it’s fitting that I was in the mood for super-dramatic music. You guys know how I like to add DRAMA to my exercise routine. Honestly, if there was an exercise that was somehow also me singing in an opera, and also living through whatever tragic combination of mistaken identity/ disease/ righteous vengeance the characters were suffering through, that would be ideal.

I KNOW I am not the only one who runs faster when there is vengeance in my heart, because Mindy Kaling wrote a whole chapter about it, ok?

Just now.

Apparently, this week was the week the internet discovered Bartolome de las Casas, a historical figure you might not have heard of if you’ve avoided every book about American history ever written and also Wikipedia and also being awake during basically any television special about the colonization of America. I mean, you’d have to be pretty close to brain dead to never, ever have heard of Bartolome de las Casas. HE’S NOT EVEN THAT GREAT, YOU GUYS. For one thing, he defended the importation of African slaves as a way of dealing with the problem of not having enough workers because the entire native population in some areas had died of smallpox and starvation. Yes, he changed his mind later. STILL. Also, his entire understanding of the world was based in the idea that God wanted everyone to experience Christianity, which…

I mean, whatever, happy Columbus Day.