Never Blog About Food When You're Starving

I don't know about y'all, but when the weather dips below 60 I start wearing wool socks, a fur vest, and a hat.

Indoors.

(In my defense, Brad keeps the thermostat around 62 and floats on air for days when we've "risen to the challenge" and lowered the electric bill each month. Nevermind that I slept in a snowsuit and screamed when my buns hit the cold potty in the middle of the night.)

Not to sound whiny, but I am too wimpy to even appreciate chilly.

This is something genetically programmed in me because for as long as I can remember, I've been obsessed with warmth.

The first winter coat I remember picking out by myself (Burlington Coat Factory, anyone?) was a white one with palm trees and the words "Tahiti" all over it.

I'm sure I was a vision and I'm so proud my parents humbled themselves to let me wear something so ridiculous. Although, from what I've pieced together from relatives, "ridiculous" was the wardrobe theme.

(Whatever.)

Flamingos are my favorite animal. Flip-flops are my favorite foot wear.

So Winter and I? We have a problem.

That is, except for one major category. FOOD.

(You know what they say about summer: If you can't be with the one you love, love the one you're with.)

If it wasn't for winter, I would never eat chili. Don't know about you, but after a long day at the pool, nothing in me wants to come home and saddle up to a big steaming bowl of spicy beans.

With all this rambling about changing seasons and possible snow in Colorado, I fire up the crockpot for a Weekend Chili Extravaganza.

Queso (chili's South-of-the Border cousin) is also a crockpot companion, which is why it's important to have two slow cookers on hand. 

Plus, there are some big football games to be played this weekend. Without the lean, mean fuel of fake cheese and processed meat, how can one have the energy to cheer for Texas Tech?

I know we all have favorite chili recipes, and even though I have mine, I still like to experiment from time to time.

There's a hidden fear that if one recipe is truly great and I haven't tried it, I might be missing out.

But you know what? I come back to Old Faithful every single time.

The recipe is basic, easy, and just plain delicious.  The toppings are endless and you can't mess it up.

I was thinking of posting my queso recipe, but there are no less than FOUR in my stack, so maybe I'll save those for another day.

Old Faithful Chili

1 lb. ground beef

1 chopped onion

garlic (however much you like)

1 lb. diced tomatoes

1 lb. hot chili beans (I like Bush's and they make mild or medium for the tender of tongue)

8 oz. can tomato sauce

1 t. salt

dash of pepper

2-4 T. of chili powder (I go for 4 and make them heaping)

Brown meat with onion and garlic. Drain off grease. Combine meat and rest of ingredients in crock pot and cook on low for 4-6 hours.

Top with Fritos, tomatoes, sour cream, jalapenos, cheese, green chiles, or Almond Joy.

Serve with a side of mittens and football. YUM.

I'm Going to Gain 10 Pounds in the Name of Patriotism

I am proud to say that for once in my life, I planned ahead and took care of all this voting business last week.

It was a very tender moment involving me and the voting volunteers, which consisted of 15 elderly ladies crocheting (I'm not even making that up). They had Lilly sitting on their lap, talking in silly voices, while feeding her as many cookies as her stomach could hold. Meanwhile I read through 9 zillion amendments to the Colorado constitution and received only a sticker.

Thankfully, I am done with all the voting and now I can hit the town for some freebies!

After dropping Lilly off at preschool, I headed to Starbucks for my free coffee.

Check.

Later today, I'll cruise through Chick-fil-A for a chicken sandwich, Krispy Kreme for a donut (well, maybe) and tonight, since "Dancing With the Stars" has been pre-empted for election coverage (whatever), the fam will head to Ben & Jerry's to round out our butts...I mean, day.

Actually, I am incredibly humbled to live in a nation where we do get to vote and live in freedom. Brad and I were trying to explain to the kids what it is like in other places in our world in this present day. It's hard to fathom the oppression and fear in which so many people are forced to survive.

Some of the best thoughts on voting as believers with hope that extends far beyond today, I've read here and here.

And Jules got me hungry when I read this because a tasty dinner always makes life more fun.

But now, I have to go back to the dentist before my sugar-fest later today.

This hymn (or is it just a song?) has been running through my head for the past few days, and I know it's God putting it on my heart since hymns don't usually occupy my thoughts.

Turn your eyes upon Jesus,

Look full in his wonderful face.

And the things of earth will grow strangely dim,

In the light of his glory and grace.

Photos! Of Cheese! And Toast! Together!

I have to admit I was taken a little bit off-guard by the many people who've never once in their entire existence partaken of cheese toast.

After a some very intense of research and consulting many knowledgeable Cheese Toast Sources, it's my conclusion that cheese toast is a decidedly southern cuisine.

Therefore, I've constructed a tutorial about cheese toast so that your life may be enhanced by its goodness.

(At least no one can accuse me of focusing on the unimportant things in life.)

The people-pleaser in me wants to apologize in advance for all of the photos because they are terrible. I'm not trying to be P-Dub or anything, but I am just trying to be helpful.

Unfortunately, "helpful" takes horrible pictures. AND, I should add, cheese is really hard to photograph. Any sharp cheddar-loving girl can tell you how amazing perfectly melted cheese looks right out of the oven. That beauty, however, was lost on my mad photo skillz.

So tie on your apron and let's go!

First of all, turn on that broiler to high. Whoo hoo! Go broilers! If you have a toaster oven, by all means, use it. But please don't use your regular ol' toaster. Trust me.

Ok, start with two pieces of bread (if you're trying to cut back on grease and carbs. If not, you may want more.)

Now, I know many grilled-cheese lovers enjoy a slice of buttery white bread with their grilled cheese, but this is your warning that white bread isn't the best companion of cheese toast. And we're not making grilled cheese. This is his fun-loving cousin.

Go with a grainy (but not too grainy), sturdy, whole wheat.

Next, the cheese.

This is key.

There are two ingredients in cheese toast, y'all, so it is extra-important not to mess them up.

DO NOT, in the name of all that's cheesy, use American cheese. 

NO NO NO NO NO.

You need something that can be sliced.  And nothing too fancy. Save your goat cheese with fig for another occasion.

The Cheddar Family & Kin are best suited for this type of work. Since I wasn't prepared to give a full-on Cheese Toast Tutorial, my fridge wasn't adequately equipped with the ideal cheese. But I didn't let that get the cheese toast down.

You know those ginormous blocks of cheese in the refrigerator case that look breathtaking and nauseating all at the same time? Call in those dogs for cheese toast because the slicing of the cheese is a secret to the amazing taste.

Look, I'll demonstrate:

(No, there isn't mold on the cheese. I had just dropped it in some flour I had out on the counter from baking pumpkin bread.)

By my best estimations, that cheese is about one-quarter of an inch thick. And honestly, you could go thicker.

Next, lay the cheese out on the bread.

I know that if you're new to this, you're wondering how something with  a 2.0 degree of difficulty could be so tasty? Well, trust me, it can.

Cheese Formation is critical at this juncture. I worked with the skill and precision of a dairy engineer to fit those slices perfectly on the bread. If there are spots where too much bread is exposed or the cheese is too thin, you will have dire consequences.

And if you have to take a bite of cheese amdist the engineering, go right ahead.

(By the way, are those pieces of bread mocking me? Why do they remind me of my deceased Mickey Mouse toaster?)

Next, pop those beauties under the broiler.

This next step is very important for those of you who, LIKE ME, have incredibly short attention spans: DO NOT WALK AWAY FROM THE BROILER.

I know that is hard not to forget (trust me, I've burned my share of cheese toast), but don't do it.

It only takes around 2 minutes for the cheese toast to reach it's broily perfection.

I understand that you could unload the top rack of the dishwasher, transfer the laundry from washer to dryer, rearrange the pillows on the couch, and save a child from choking in that amount of time.

BUT DON'T because your cheese toast will be lost.

(I risked melting my mascara to get that photo so you'd better enlarge it to fully appreciate the temperature and wondrous powers of the broiler.)

After your entire life has flashed before your eyes in two minutes (or whenever the cheese is melted (but NOT bubbly...that is too long), take it out right away and go save that choking baby.

Look at those deliciously lumpy gobs of sharp cheddar cheese. It started to run over the edge, but didn't evacuate too much.

The cheese performed splendidly and melded together just like it's supposed to.

There are some days I feel led to eat it with a fork, and other days I need to pick it up and eat it like a slice of pizza. Today I felt forkish.

Have. Mercy.

Colorado: America's Dairyland

I just want to thank y'all for all the help with my toaster.

I haven't made the purchase just yet, but I think tomorrow will be El Dia de Toaster Nuevo. 

Instead of the toaster/torturer, I've been using the broiler to do some toasting and melting duties while Mickey is down and out.

For as much as I like to cook, I didn't have a working knowledge of The Broiler and it's many capabilities until a few years ago, when a friend who actually doesn't like to cook introduced me to her.

It sounds crazy, but it had never dawned on me to push that little "broil" button and just watched what happened.

That's because I had no memories of my mom ever broiling anything. We were a Toaster Oven Family and that is where my love of small (large) appliances began.

When I mentioned this to her, she died laughing.

Apparently, she and my dad had a somewhat ugly fusing of toaster/broiler preferences at the onset of their marriage and he and his dinky toaster won out.

My Gran (her mom) was an avid broiler-user and created all kinds of deliciousness with its high heat and super melty powers. However, the love of the broiler didn't join my parents' marriage almost 40 years ago.

So then my mom and I started talking about our favorite broiler recipes.

Which brings me to one of the best broiler sensations of all times: Cheese Toast.

Have you had cheese toast lately?

It is one of my favorite snacks this side of a spoonful of peanut butter. In fact, my college roommates and I used to alternate between chile con queso and cheese toast as our favorite dinner options.

(Health, wellness, and costumes were our top priorities.)

Anyway, it seems cheese toast is a lost art these days.

As part of our daily after-school ritual, the neighborhood kids have somehow roped me into making dozens of chocolate chip cookies everyday for a snack.

Initially, when we decided the Black Horn Posse could walk home by themselves, I bribed them (to ensure their safe arrival) with cookies.

Ever since then, around nine of them tromp through the front yard and into my kitchen, slinging their backpacks all over the place, politely requesting (they're working on the charm thing) chocolate-chip cookies.

And here's the kicker: not just cookies. Hot cookies. Freshly baked. Warm cookies. On the one day I didn't have them coming out of the oven, the kids made me microwave the cookies so the chips would be gooey.

So today I had the audacity(!) to suggest cheese toast as a (questionably) healthier snack alternative. 

You would've thought I suggested pad thai noodles the way they scrunched up their faces and asked, "What in the heck is cheese toast?!"

"Where are your mothers and what have they been teaching you?!" I demanded.

Seriously.

I always thought cheese toast was a staple in every child's diet.

It is like eating cake on your birthday or black-eyed peas on New Year's Day. (Don't even tell me if you don't do that.)

Do I have a point to this blog? A theme? A thesis?

Of course not.

Except to say that I am nominating Cheese Toast for President with Diet Dr. Pepper as its running mate.

Amen.

File Under: "I Know I'm Old Because..." I'm Posting About Blueberries

I'm not going to lie.

It's hot.

For those of you in the South, I realize that my use of the word "heat" is relative. But when the car thermometer says it's over 100, that is pretty universally toasty.

I'm having flashbacks of the first summer Brad and I moved to Texas.

That would be the same summer that set the record for most consecutive days over 100 degrees.

Brad worked OUTSIDE.

In JEANS.

Meanwhile...

Being a teacher, I was gainfully unemployed for the summer months and whiled away the days from the comfort of my Super Floatie in the apartment complex pool.

Um, Brad wasn't exactly ecstatic about that arrangement.

Which (obviously) leads me to berries.

I think one of my favorite things about surviving summer heat invovles devouring fruit at every opportunity. 

(Except the melon family, which I loathe. It's been pointed out to me that my dislike of watermelons--and almost paralyzing inability to even type the words cantaloupe and honeydew--makes me simultaneously un-American and lame. But I don't care.)

So yesterday I bought two amazingly luscious pounds of blueberries for all of $4.99.

It would be very Eco Fabulous to say I found them at a sweet little roadside stand where a precious elderly lady grew them in her Mother Earth Organic Garden and then I carried them home cradled in my shirt as so not to waste any paper or plastic products.

But I bought them at Costco. Where I drove in my SUV that holds 34 gallons of $4 gas. At which time I also bought 50 pounds of sugar. Hate me.

Anywho, for weeks Lilly persistently asked me to make blueberry muffins.

So I did.

This is embarrassing, but until this morning at 8:30 a.m., I had forgotten how perfect homemade blueberry muffins are.

Because the ones in the box--which I, too, have been guilty of buying--are more like cake mix with dehydrated Blue No. 9 pellets.

They might seem good in your very foggy memory, but until you've eaten the Real Deal, you are respectfully mistaken.

The blueberries in these babies got all bubbly and gooey. And the muffin wasn't super-fakey-cakey spongy like the boxed ones.

The texture was that ideal combination of dense and slightly sweet (this isn't cake, people) with a little bonus of warm, oozing REAL LIVE blueberries in every bite.

(Hold on...I am having a moment.)

(NOW cue the elderly lady sequence which will warm your heart that cooled slightly while I snubbed local farmers in lieu of mass-merchandising and $1.50 pizza.)

I got the recipe from my Gran, which does make them taste even better.

Would you like it?

Whole Wheat Blueberry Muffins

Mix the following in a large bowl:

1 c. whole wheat flour

1 c. all-purpose flour

1 T. baking powder

3/4 t. salt

2 t. cinnamon

1/3 c. packed brown sugar

1/2 c. granulated (white) sugar

Beat together:

2 eggs

5 T vegetable oil

3/4 c. milk

Stir egg mixture into flour just until moistened. Stir 2 c. fresh (or frozen) blueberries.

Bake in greased muffin tins (or use paper cups) at 375 for about 20 minutes. Cool on wire rack for 10 minutes.

And be sure to add a nice lump of butter and watch it gracefully melt.

For the record, I didn't wait ten minutes for the cooling.

Heck. No.

All that said...as I tucked Lilly in tonight, I assured her that more delicious blueberry muffins awaited her tomorrow.

"But Mommy, I didn't really like them."

"What?! Why not?"

"The blueberries were warm and melty. I like the little, tiny blueberries in those white muffins."

"But Lilly, those are gross."

"No way. The ones you made were."

Even though it was dark, I'm sure she saw me roll my eyes.

The Best Chicken Salad You've Never Had

Keeping in mind that I have some OCD tendencies, I just thought the public might like to know what I've eaten for the past four days:

I'm working on coming up with a name for this summery goodness beyond "chicken salad."

As you know, chicken salad recipes are many and the time to eat them is few.

Therefore, one cannot waste a single bite on substandard chicken salad fare. I sort of love a traditional chicken salad (mayo, sour cream, grapes, nuts, coconut, celery).

But I only say "sort of" because mayonnaise (even the typing of the word) kind of makes my toes curl under and my stomach lurch.

For starters, I picture Hugh Grant's flatmate in "Notting Hill" eating the mayo he mistakes for yogurt.

For enders, I picture raw egg, gloppy texture, and my thighs jiggling.

That's pretty much a deal breaker. 

As I'm sure it will be for you now, as well.

So since Holly shared this recipe with me, I proceeded to make it over and over and over again.

And guess what? I'm not even close to sick of it.

When I've recently eaten six chocolate chip cookies, I like it over salad greens.

When I'm starving, I like it in a tortilla wrap.

When I need a snack, I get a serving-size spoon and eating it right out of the bowl as I stand in the shadow of the fridge.

(I hear that's a healthy diet tip.)

I'm going to post the recipe, but only if you promise not to be intimidated by the number of ingredients.

Some things are good with one ingredient. Like peanut butter.

Some things are good with two ingredients. Like jalapeno jelly and cream cheese.

And sometimes it might take fifteenish ingredients to do the trick. But really, it's all stuff you have hiding somewhere in the fridge. Or at least it's a good excuse to go to the grocery store and shop while sipping a latte.

If that's your bag, baby.

Killer Chicken Salad

1/2 c. olive oil*

1/2 c. rice vinegar

1/4 c. lime juice

2 t. chili powder

2 t. cumin

1/2 t. garlic powder

2 t. kosher salt (you can probably use any kind, but I always keep kosher salt on hand)

1 t. pepper

1/2 t. tabasco (or a little more if you're like me)

4 c. chopped cooked chicken

1 can corn, drained

1/2 c. cilantro (finely chopped)

1/2 c. diced red pepper

2 jalapenos (seeded  & chopped)

4 chopped green onions (I've used red in a pinch)

diced tomatoes (I just dice and add when I'm serving it)

Directions:

Just combine it all! It tastes even better with some time to marinade. 

*Oh, and I only use 1/4 c. of olive oil, but I am sharing the original recipe.

I'm on Killer Chicken Salad: Day 4 and the flavor is still fantastic. Just give it a quick stir and serve. Or eat out of the bowl.

And leave the thigh-jiggling work to ice cream.

Because I'm Positive You Care Deeply

A few, small, newsworthy items that I've numbered! Because, LOOK! I'm organized now!

1. The Flood
Let me start by saying that I appreciate the loving care and concern so many of you have shared over the Self-Inflicted Flood of Stupidity '08.

Precious Brad (who is eligible for sainthood after this latest debacle) labored to get the contents of the basement dryish to quite dry. The only major casualties were all things that don't belong to me. So while I'm relieved on a personal level, the guilt runneth deep as I share with others who dared to leave their belongings in our home that their things are lost forever.

Luckily, one of the victims is my mom who understands my track record for disaster dating back to a small carpet fire around age five. And some other incidents I'd rather not recount in case she has forgotten.

2. Car News
After being separated from the 'Burb for yet another 3 days after a not-so-minor relapse, it's back and running with all doors attached. (Which I still do not believe is too much to ask).

A longish, rubbery, black piece wasn't staying glued to the left side, causing an eccentric aerodynamic effect, forcing other drivers to honk and roll down their windows at stoplights to inform me of the plight.

At least when it snowed tonight, my seat warmer came in handy. Finally.

3. Easter Menu
There's nothing to quite get oneself over the heartache of an unnecessary flood like food. Even though as I write this, my stomach is still full from the Best Apple Crisp Ever I am still anxiously awaiting tomorrow when I get to eat again. Don't worry, I don't treat my pain with food. Oh no, I don't.

I'm hoping to take pictures tomorrow, but if I get distracted actually eating Easter dinner instead of taking blurry pictures, here's the plan:

Strawberry-Pear Salad on Mixed Greens
Fresh Baked Whole Grain Bread
Mini Zucchini Muffins
Creamy Macaroni and Cheese
Roasted Asparagus
Filet Mignon
Chocolate Espresso Pound Cake

So you see, it will be very good and very light. I'll probably try on my swimsuit right after lunch.

Or at least lube up with some self-tanner.

For the Love of Warm Chocolate Chip Cookies and Of Course, The Dough

Without fail during every group fitness class, the Instructor/Torturer asks us "Why are you here?"

And the answers never cease to crack me up. Every. Single. Day.

First of all, I'm glad that some people are breathing with enough regularity to shout out their convictions amidst 60 other aerobicizers.

Personally, I want all of the friendly banter to just stop already AND GET ME AN OXYGEN TANK!

The first shouts I heard were all of the "Jesus" answers, like "To be healthy!" or "To feel strong!" or "To get fit!"

Whatever.

Those are lovely sentiments, but being healthy would never drag me to a barbell strength class where I am doing so many lunges that I can actually feel the muscles failing, twinging, and painting their microscopic faces a Braveheart Blue so they can join together and revolt against me the next morning.

Then the braver souls start to shout, "I'm here for swimsuit season!"

"To look good at my high school reunion!"

Again...wah wah wah wah wah wah. (I am trying to type the Charlie Brown teacher noise, but am not sure how to spell it. Apologies.)

Swimsuit season is compelling, for sure, but I have a little tip. Instead of dragging yourself to the gym every morning to lose maybe ten pounds, GET A TAN! QUICK! AND MAKE IT FAKE!

Because scientific polls have shown that one looks a little slimmer with a nice hint of tan. Or, if you're a body builder, a nice hint of unnatural dark brown combined with canola oil.

I am not in favor a tanning beds but I am highly in favor of Jergens lotion.

One little bottle of Jergens Express and you will feel like a svelte Greek goddess or at least her unsightly stepsister. I've been a believer in the Jergens Natural Glow for a few years now, but the recent discovery of Jergens Express amazes my highly refined tan-in-a-bottle sensory system.

Reports have come in from other users that the application made them a little orange, but thus far, my skin tone has withstood the intense color/moisture.

Thank goodness because I had a bowl of Founder's Favorite the other day and I do not think it is a diet-type snack.

In lieu of eating vegetables and rice cakes, I just applied some tinted lotion. And snake oil. Works for me!

So when Miss Perky asked the class about our motivation, I found it odd that I was the only one with the courage to say, "To eat more!"

Really, it is all about the food.

Because on the way to the gym today, what do you know?

My favorite fast food eatery was advertising a FREE BREAKFAST!

I turned in to the restaurant, hightailed it to the drive-thru window and said, "I'll have two of whatever you're giving away for free."

"That would be our chicken mini 3-packs."

That was my first sign today that God is with me in more ways than one. Because there is nothing on this earth that I love more than a Chick-fil-A chicken biscuit breakfast sandwich. And there were THREE of them. In one box.

Praise the Lord and pass the honey.

For ABSOLUTELY NO MONEY AT ALL! For FREE! For me! All because I can read signs held by cows!

I tried to discount the fact that it would take upwards of 700 barbell curls to counteract just one bite of chickeny, biscuity goodness. But that's ok. That's why I work out. For the molten lava cakes, the french toast, the bread pudding and um...et cetera.

Currently I'm on a Nightly Consumption of Chicken Enchiladas and Other Mexican Delicousness kick, but it will pass. And then I'll move on to something really healthy like granola mixed with Reese's chocolate eggs. Oh, I jest. I'll just eat the chocolate eggs.

So the moral of this post is:
1. Get a fake tan
2. Food Rocks

The End

In Honor of Which We Gained 30 Pounds

Oh man, just when I'd sworn off food until 2010, we ate enough for a family of twelve at the Grand Lux Cafe.

Even though Brad's 30th birthday came on the heels of the most gluttonous time of the year, it would be a bit anti-climactic to celebrate with a piece of grilled chicken along with a side of steamed vegetables followed by Sugar-Free Jell-o. Wrong, just wrong, and SO not Brad. (Who, I believe, has never eaten steamed vegetables or grilled chicken voluntarily.)

We're reaching for the very high bar set by ourselves in our 2008 Goal Setting Strategery Session which disallowed any repeat ordering at the Grand Lux until we try every menu item.

Because we just STRIVE for excellence around here.

Which is what prompted Brad to order the Chicken Pot Pie:

No, your eyes do not deceive you. It is actually the size and weight of a two year-old. And TASTY. As a conservative estimate, there are probably three entire chickens in there. Along with an entire farm's yield of carrots, peas, pearl onions, and creamy goodness that is indescribable without sound effects.

This is when I wish I was a food critic or had a more discerning palate because I have NO EARTHLY IDEA what made that sauce so out of this world delicious.

Brad's guess: "Cream of chicken soup."

Um, no. Unless it's a new form of Campbell's laced with crack that I haven't tried yet.

I had a few bites myself, and now confidently feel free to abstain from dinner preparation for the rest of the week while we devour every last morsel that took THREE ENTIRE TAKE-OUT CONTAINERS to bring home.

Also, don't be alarmed if I walk around with my pants unbuttoned.

BUT WAIT! THERE'S MORE!

Chicken pot pie was not even the highlight. That honor goes to dessert.

This is one area of the menu that we are getting darn close to conquering. There are only a few desserts on the menu left to try and I am downright ashamed to admit this one was so low on the totem pole.

Enter candy bar pie:
Sorry for the scant photo offering, but we had already devoured it with the passion and intensity of cannibals by the time I had the camera ready to shoot.

Because, you see, it was like heaven on earth and more specficially, heaven in my mouth. The bottom was a crunchy chocolate crust, layered with caramel, more chocolate, peanuts, even more chocolate, and toasted marshmallows.

Sound like a Snickers? EXACTAMUNDO. Except way better than any Snickers I've ever tasted and the top chocolate layer was warm and gooey and slid right down my throat and onto my thighs.

Lilly, however, was far more interested in the makeshift whip cream cake. For reasons which cause me to question our genetic relationship, she was not distracted by the chocolate like the rest of the posse.

If you feel heavier just reading this post, rest assured that one of Brad's birthday gifts was a gym membership.

At which we will be spending the remainder of 2008.

BBQ Beef Cups or How I Gain Brad's Favor Through Food

This post might blow any perceptions the public formerly held about me being into "good" food. Barbeque beef cups are amazingly tasty, but there is nothing gourmet, interesting or creative about them.

Around our house, New Year's Day tends to be an all-out appetizer-fest. Starting around 3:00 p.m., we load the kitchen island to the gills with dips, salsas, and calorie-laden spreads that need carbs of varying shapes and sizes as their scoopers.

Brad put in his usual request for the beef cups and I obliged because I then I would also get to eat some.

They taste just like the chopped beef brisket at one of our favorite Texas joints:

(Didn't notice the kids standing in front of the handicapped sign...that is not an editorial comment on any of their abilities.)

Brad got the idea for these beef cups (which might remind you of a barbecuey, beefy, cupcake) from a co-worker. After coming home from a sales meeting he threatened to leave me if I didn't make them. (Obviously, I am kidding, but I can't stress how much he loves these and I didn't want to joke about him taking my life in order to demonstrate my seriousness.)

So, this is all you need:

Biscuits from the store (but not the Grands because they are too big unless you have a popover or Texas muffin pan, in which case you should change the name to Giant BBQ Beef Cakes.)

Pepper Jack cheese, grated

Barbeque beef

Now, the barbeque beef is probably the biggest variable in how these Manly Cupcakes taste. The top choice would be some delicious, chopped, leftover brisket smothered in a slightly sweet and tangy sauce, but that isn't always available, especially in the North. In a pinch, I highly suggest the Lloyd's chopped barbeque beef found in your grocery store. It's usually in the section with sausages and whatnot.

Here's the very scientific method: Flatten each biscuit and place it in a muffin tin kind of like you would a pie crust. In each little cup o' buttery goodness, put a heaping scoop of barbeque beef. Bake at 400 (or whatever the biscuits call for) until the biscuit is golden and the beef is bubbly, then top with pepper jack until melted.

Now put on some elastic-waisted pants and try not to eat the whole pan.

Here is the finished product approximately two hours after it came out of the oven and after I snatched the last two out of Brad's kung-fu grip while racking my brain for blog topics. All that to say, the cheese looks like cheese does after a few hours at room temperature, so just imagine it fresh from the oven and bubbly.

Eating and Shopping and Eating and Shopping. And Eating.

We have done a LOT of those activities. In fact, throw in video games and I have just summarized our entire Christmas experience.

This laptop is currently resting on my very enlarged stomach which is digesting Kari's birthday dinner at P.F.Chang's. Eight of us enjoyed an evening together and according to my very precise calculations we ordered one of everything. In fact, the entire party was clutching our stuffed stomachs at the end of the meal, staring at CLEAN PLATES, at which point we ordered one more round of Oolong Marinated Sea Bass and passed around the platter so we could put the deliciousness directly in our mouths. Because of the problem we have with moderation.

Oh, and then we sped directly home and ate some of the best chocolate birthday cake and Blue Bell ice cream I'd ever dreamed of in the history of double chocolate cakes. I did not even have room for coffee, which is saying something because coffee is a liquid and doesn't need as much space in my stomach as the entire menu of P.F. Chang's and chocolate cake.

And now for the shopping report because my stomach hurts just typing about food.

The day after Christmas was quite the jackpot. Starbucks was our obligatory first-stop and it was maahhvelous. One of our favorite shopping establishments has a huge carousel in the middle along with the Disney store, which is on currently on hiatus in Colorado. Whoo hoo! With the kids entertained, I swarmed the post-Christmas sales like white on rice.

Brad is especially excited that we are well-outfitted for Christmas next year because he thought our home was particularly under-decorated and not festive this year. I find such JOY in ornaments that were formerly $10, marked down to ninety-nine cents. It was such a blessing.

Kirkland's had a HUGE sale at which, among other things, I bought lamps and other large home accessories that will not fold up nicely and fit in our suitcases to go home. But really, it would have been wrong NOT to buy them.

And then there is Sam Moon.

Formerly a seedy, shady, dive on Harry Hines, it's now a proper shopping mecca, with plans to expand all over Dallas. Let me just say up front that I cannot possibly describe the retail transformation it has undergone. It used to be located in an area of stores that offered (among other things) photography, massages, and lingerie. COUGH. COUGH.

Come Saturday morning, the store was absolutely swarming with beautiful Dallas women desperately searching for a nice Coach bag, David Yurman jewelry, and some Louis Vittioun luggage. Factory direct, I believe.

I love a good, cheap handbag straight from China, along with earrings, necklaces, and wallets. At one time, you could purchase a purse, then the store-owners would carefully STICK-ON the designer label on at the register. Now doesn't that sound legitimate and very upscale all at the same time?

As in life, my shopping standards are VERY high.

There was an absolutely perfect purse/bag that I acquired, but it really deserves it's own blog entry, so I will write more another time.

Hopefully, the digestion process will come to a halt within 2 or 3 days, at which time my head will clear considerably and I'll go get some barbeque.

Just in Time for Your New Year's Diet

Today I am participating in a soup recipe exchange because I am a lover of soups in the months between October and March. During the summer I return to a steady diet of ice cream.

Life is too short to mess around with exotic vegetables and broths, so this recipe includes two of the Industrial Age's finest products: Velveeta and Ro-Tel. Together again. Thank you, Lord.

Queso Soup
1 box au Gratin potatoes
1 11 oz. can of corn (drained)
1 can rotel
2 c. water
2 c. milk
Small box of Velveeta Light (I hear that is MUCH healthier than regular Velveeta)

Make in a 5 quart saucepan.
1. While still in the plastic bag, break potatoes into smallish pieces.

2. Place potatoes, water, corn, and rotel in a saucepan. Bring just to a boil. Turn down and simmer until potatoes are tender (approx. 10 minutes).

3. Mix package of powdered cheese (from potatoes) to milk. Add mixture to saucepan.

4. Cut Velveeta into small cubes and add to saucepan until melted. Stir as needed.

Important Tip: Keep heat low so cheese doesn't scorch!

Serve with nacho chips or warm tortillas.

Personally, I like to heat the flour tortilla, butter it, roll up that bad boy, and dip it into the cheesey soupy goodness as a utensil of sorts.

I'd also suggest serving with a side of treadmill.

For more great soups, check out BooMama.

I'm Speechless (But That Will Not Stop Me From Rambling On and On)

Today was the day.

You know, the one I've been waiting for these past few months. Brad and I literally begged our way into the "mock up" or dress rehearsal of the Grand Lux Cafe.

In case I've never mentioned it, I love this place and want my remains spread on the patio under the heat lamps next to the Asian Nachos when I pass.

So there we stood getting the low down from a manager about the impending experience. We were given pre-selected menus so the staff could practice certain dishes. This manager described the cocktails, appetizers, main courses, dessert, and after-dinner drinks and I looked like a giddy school girl literally giggling at the outrageous food possibilities.

Brad and the other unassuming patrons stood there STONE FACED while I snickered and grinned from ear to ear.

"What's so funny?" he said. One of his mottos for being in over your head is, "Act like you've been there before."

Nope, couldn't do it. And as you know, quiet dignity has never been a hallmark of mine.

After we were seated, I was so composed that I promptly dropped my fork. Then out came the appetizers.

Crabcakes...oh my gosh, the crabcakes. Alone they were fantastic, but the creole mustard sauce took me to another place to which I am dying to return.

Brad got the Double Stuffed Potato Spring Rolls and they were crunchy, fluffy, creamy, and a little zingy all at once. They are essentially mashed potatoes encased in a crispy wonton roll topped with melted cheddar cheese and smoked bacon. I think he chewed them with his eyes closed and made groaning noises, but I can't be sure since I was having my own moment with the crabcakes.

I only ate a few bites because I was pacing myself. Just like the National Hot Dog Eating Champ Kobyashi paces himself.

At this point, we realized the Asian Nachos were not on our pre-selected menu. Before panic set in, we hailed over a manager and fell all over ourselves asking/begging/volunteering our first born for just a TASTE of The Beloved Nachos. Surely they needed to perfect those as well.

Well, our server was great and a plate of Heaven on Earth soon rested on our table. Now this is the point in the meal where I had to restrain every earthly impulse to reach over and start smearing them all over my face with hopes of getting the savory chicken and peanut sauce in my mouth.

But y'all, I sat there and ate them like a normal person.

I am pretty postive that if they served this peanut sauce in martini glasses, I would be down for the count and drooling at the bar before I even reached the table. But overtaken by composure, I savored each bite, thought about all of the flavors that God created and perfectly combined on that very Asian Nacho and swallowed it down regretting only that it was over.

On to the main course where they brought me a Bento Box which is FOUR SQUARE PLATES OF FOOD PEOPLE. Plate one: A Jamaican Jerk chicken with pineapple so finely chopped I thought it was gold. Plate two: steamed broccoli (needless to say...no room in the inn). Plate three: some salad which was delicious but I have no idea what was in it other than apples and they were the finest apples I've tasted. Plate four: Cream of chicken and mushroom soup. Before you start thinking "Campbell's" and insult this creamy concoction, let me just say that it was by far the most perfectly seasoned and deliciously smooth and hearty soup I have ever eaten and will have to go to my pantry at once and throw out all imposters while vowing to never eat soup from another establishment again.

(Except Panera's Fiesta Con Queso which needs its own blog).

Anyway.

The Max Burger is the Grand Lux's signature burger for good reason: IT IS REALLY GOOD.

I can't decide which aspect of the Max was best: the grilled onions and roasted short ribs(!) or the chipotle mustard sauce of which I had several spoonfuls without any accompanying burger. I have never loved another mustard like this before.

At this point I might be boring you to tears with these blow-by-blow descriptions of my very amazing lunch or my entirely lackluster food critic capabilities.

But do not stop reading because I have to talk about dessert. Also, my readership will drop from ten to nine and I don't know if my sponsors will like that.

First up the carrot cake. I don't know about you, but I sure love a good carrot cake. Mostly what I love about a good carrot cake is the cream cheese frosting. And mostly what I love about the cream cheese frosting is LOTS of it.

But this, THIS cream cheese frosting was otherworldly. Folks, it was citrus cream cheese frosting. Not super citrusy like a bad Glade Plug-In, but that perfect hint of citrus that makes you think "What was that taste sensation?! I must know but tell me after I'm done swallowing the biggest forkful ever."

Perfect, just perfect.

The other dessert we graciously sampled was Strawberry Shortcake. Make that a WARM SUGAR SHORTCAKE filled with strawberries and ice cream so good I bet it was Blue Bell. (For you north of the Mason-Dixon, I am so sorry.)

When I took my bite, I could FEEL WITH MY VERY TEETH the gentle crunch of warm sugar.

And this shortcake.

(Sighs wistfully and small tears well up in eyes.)

This shortcake was from the Glorious Angel of Butter and Perfectly Made Cakes. And I have eaten and loved quite a few shortcakes in my days. But as Brad put it, "This is way better than anything you've ever made."

Quite a good summary of our entire experience.

I am revelling in the moment and making Brad discuss the minor details and delicious points much like I did our wedding day.

And did I mention this culinary goodness was AT NO CHARGE? Tastes all the better...

Oh My Heavens It Was Good

There are no words to describe the taste-bud overload that was our Thanksgiving Feast. I mean, we had at least three varieties of casserole, two varieties of potatoes, and no less than three varieties of pie.

I believe there were vegetables of sorts, but I really didn't have time or stomach space to figure out for sure.

My new favorite is Robin's Corn Casserole, which I caught myself eating with the serving spatula both during the meal and during clean up...aka Dinner Part II.

The sleeper hit of dessert was Gran's Chocolate Cream Pie. The richness and creaminess is unparalelled. There are no leftovers...because I finished if off during Dinner Part II.

Awesome fun at the kids table:

Do you love how I am modeling good eating habits by pretending to serve up a HUGE plate of delicious salad? I believe I only ate one bite because he who eats salad when sweet potatoes doused with brown sugar, coconut, and pecans are available is a FOOL.



The adults were collectively disappointed when our stomachs reached capacity far ahead of our taste buds. But fear not, we forged on into gluttony.

Without a doubt, it was great to celebrate Thanksgiving with good friends and good food. We played my mother-in-law's thankfulness game, which was very entertaining. The best part was the half-dozen suggestions each person got to help them realize what they were thankful for.

The evening was polished off in super classy style by watching Elf, playing corn hole, and eventually laying down, very very still as so not to disrupt the grandiose digestion project in my stomach.

Whatever The Thanksgiving Equivalent of Ho-Ho-Ho Is

One of my many sicknesses is that I love grocery shopping. I really do. Especially around the holidays.

I am especially drawn to the baking stack-outs filled with varieties of chocolate, nuts, and even evaporated milk that cause my imagination to run wild and my pants to spontaneously tighten.

Yesterday, Costco was so busy that I could barely navigate the oversized cart through the oversized aisles to buy enough Velveeta and tortillas to prepare us for Y3K. But I loved it. The possibilities for food and hospitality are endless.

Same with Safeway...so crowded, mob-scene at the turkeys, a giant green Shrek roaming around to add to the chaos, and small children clinging to the carts out of fear. But I find so much joy in selecting those special foods that we really only eat once a year.

Thanksgiving has always been my absolute favoritest holiday...even above and beyond Christmas. Growing up, our family didn't have a specific tradition of how we celebrated, except for the food. The tradition of culinary excellence, my friends, is untouchable. And the menu might as well be etched in stone tablets, because aside from audible direction from the voice of the Lord, it is not changing. Amen.

I have heard that there are other varities of dressing (y'all know it is only called stuffing if it's stuffed in the turkey, right?) besides cornbread dressing. That is the rumor, anyway. Personally I have never tried them because my family will eat cornbread dressing if it harelips the Governor.

I remember many great Thanksgivings we had with our best friends...the moms cooking and laughing and the dads watching football...5 kids running wildly, and I do mean WILDLY through the house. We even drove to see them a few years after they moved and the magic being our friendship--not the location--rendered the same fun.

These are the friends who introduced us to the Slice of Heaven (I am so punny) known as Dude's Pumpkin Pie. It has no equal and there is no thanks worthy of this gift. There is pumpkin pie, and there is Dude's. Do not be fooled by imposters. I will give you the recipe in exchange for all the money you have. Just kidding.

There were also several Thanksgivings that our family from West Texas drove NINETEEN HOURS in a giant red Suburban, God bless them, to celebrate the day with us. I loved flinging open the front door, to see them exhausted, but ready to start planning the days to come. I almost laugh out loud thinking of how hysterical we'd get making dinner, setting the table, and creating our name-card teepees every year. (I believe my mom still has all the originals.)

And then there's the shopping. Fear not, I will probably be dedicating the bulk of next weekend's posts to my favorite shopping time of all. South Denver, however, can never be compared to the Black Friday shopping extravaganza that is downtown Chicago. Waaayyy back in time before cellphones, we armed ourselves with walkie-talkies and hit Michigan Avenue en masse.

I won't bore you with a blow-by-blow description of our shopping follies (and that they were) but the two things that stand out are the year Natalie fell asleep on the floor of the Michigan Avenue Brooks Brothers. The youngest of the pack, she literally dropped from all the fun. In the entry way, for all to see.

The other memory I have is of eight or nine of us trying to catch the train after a marathon (and I am an intense shopper, so do not take that as an exaggeration) of shopping. I was quite pregnant and hauling tail for ABOUT A MILE along city streets to catch the last train back home and avoid sleeping on the streets downtown. There are no words to describe what a pack of suburbanites running through downtown, huge shopping bags and pregnant belly in tow, must have looked like.

Except really stupid.

I just remember lots of sweating once we finally sat down. It smelled like a track meet in that train car.

And we laughed and laughed and laughed.

We may or may not have eaten an entire tin of Garrett's Popcorn on the train ride home. Fuel, you know.

So armed with these great memories, we set out to create the same joy with our kids. The family, the friends, the company always changing, but the food, BY GOLLY THE FOOD, stays the same.

Sure, there are additions that I love for people to bring, just to try new things...but there are some traditions so sacred that I dare not mess with. Even if my mom and grandma will not be here to testify against any dressing that isn't of the cornbread variety, I somehow believe they will know if I forsake tradition.

And there must be pie. And it must be Dude's.

A Scene I Could Never Have Pictured 10 Years Ago

So Holly and I went to Jo-Ann Fabrics and spent a solid chunk of time checking out all kinds of crafty sales and holiday goodness.

Sure, we made fun of the really heinous fabrics and picked out some other SUPER DUPER CUTE ones for Christmas aprons. We passed over the ornaments that are only meant for the hopelessly tacky and snagged a few that will surely transform our trees before our very eyes.

We literally cruised every single aisle bantering about the worthiness/unworthiness of various decorating necessities (junk). The fact that we skipped the figurine aisle does put us shy of 90 years old, however.

After a full tour, we arrived at the sprawling magazine rack in the front of the store.

"Holly, I have something to tell you."

She looks slightly bored and ready for yet another over-hyped statement.

"I have read the last two issues of 'Good Houskeeping.'"

She looks up...curious.

"I loved it," I confessed. "There were so many good ideas."

Her face lit up.

"Me, too. That's where I got that Apple Compote recipe."

Silence.

Her courage bolstered: "I think subscriptions are only $13 a year."

Reality is sinking in.

"We have spent the last hour and a half wandering through a craft store, drinking coffee, talking about sewing, and now we are admitting to reading a ladies' magazine which erases any shadow of doubt that we are young and hip."

Yes, it does. Oh yes, it does.

Obligatory Post About Food

Just when I thought I had a handle on all things wonderfully fall and pumpkiny, I entered Cold Stone Creamery.

The kids were begging for some ice cream and it does seem like the perfect desert on a hot summer night amongst palm trees in November. When in Rome...

In we walked and my Pumpkin Radar spotted the pumpkin ice cream immediately. Well, of course, I'll be having a sample of that. Then, the guy behind the counter proceeds to tell me about Pumpkin Pie in the Sky. I Like to think of myself as a conisseur of fine pumpkin desserts and let me tell you, this was KILLER.

Pumpkin ice cream, graham crackers, caramel, nuts, and chocolate chips. (It's supposed to have whipped cream, but I'm not really a fan, so I subbed for the chocolate. Of course.) It was like eating a cool pumpkin cheesecake. With chocolate.

I am still recovering.

Even Jackson had some. I have known that child a long time and never seen him order any flavor other than chocolate. Ever. So, there's your proof.

Lilly, following in my mad camera skillz, took this photo of the dessert:




She also captured Jackson's delight as he expanded his ice cream repetoire by one flavor.

Now, for the big news. The Grand Lux.

The kids and I headed out to the mall to scope things out and round up some fun. If you're not familiar, Scottsdale has one of the finest malls around. In fact, the word "mall" is a little demeaning. It's more of a "shopping experience unparalleled by any other" (in my price range or limited travel experience, anyway).

So, there she was. The Mother Ship of restaurants. I was expecting a huge wait and not wanting to totally bore the kids, I thought I'd just check into the wait time, then walk away disappointed until the Denver location opens at the end of the month.

I totally did not notice the huge SPOTLIGHTS in the parking lot announcing the grand opening. When I asked how long they'd been open, the trembling employees replied, "Two hours."

Apparently word hasn't gotten out about the greatness of this dining fantasy, so the restaurant was wiiiiiiide open. We took our seats on the patio, which in and of itself, makes for a great night.

The kids got those Wiki Stix (these bendy, slightly sticky 6-inch sticks), which are none other than the greatest invention to pass time at restaurants. Jackson and Lilly played with them so much that they barely ate their dinner. We had an entire army of carefully crafted (but unidentifiable to the untrained eye) Star Wars fighter ships and misshapen bendy people lined up at the table.

Before we were even seated I started embarrassing myself by gushing about the Asian Nachos and how I'd been dreaming about them since I first encountered them in 2005 and this was the moment I'd been waiting for and could you please bring them out NOW?!?!

Whew.

I regained composure and even did something I've never done before. I asked them to bring out the take home box with the nachos. Because, you see, I don't trust myself. The nachos serve NINE, but I know that I am fully capable of licking the plate clean.

So I had two, then packed the rest away. It worked out nicely because I've been able to enjoy them everyday and just like pizza, they are just as good right out of the fridge.

What are these rare and beautiful creatures, you ask? Well, start with a light and crispy wonton. It's topped with some of that peanutty thai sauce, tender chicken, and some cheesey, saucy, crushed peanuts, and creamy SOMETHING else. Sorry, that is the best I can do.

You really have to taste it. Spicy, sweet, crunchy, and creamy ALL in one heavenly bite.

Hold on. I have to go eat one right now.

Spit it Out, Now!

In very important Starbucks news, they have added a new sugar-free flavor. Many of us have been loyally campaigning for this for some time now.

But the bad news is that it's gross. Sugar free Gingerbread. Blehhhhhhhhh...YUCK.

When the barista offered it to me before it had been added to the official menu I shook with joy. No Red Cup yet, but a new sugar-free flavor would do. This was my big moment!

But, NO. It was really terrible. I can't even describe the flavor but I would warn you against trying it. Toothpastey, minty, aftertasty...UGH. Couldn't hardly swallow!

Some are critical of the sugar free ordering in the first place. I admit, I don't do it because I adore the taste. If you've noticed my slight obsession with food, this is just another way of having something I love without having to add extra mileage to the weekly running total.

Since I have to constantly check myself to make sure my water intake is greater than my coffee intake, it's time to think about SUGAR FREE. (But not decaf...oh no. Not when I was pregnant, and most certainly NOT NOW.)

The sugar-free gingerbread was so bad that I asked (made) Holly go back up to the counter and get me a SF NF XH NW vanilla latte.

Aaaaaahhhhhh, much better.

At which point Mr. Barista conveniently mentioned that he didn't like it either.

We Are as Unqualified as Parents As You Feared

So we're all standing around the island last night making our own pizzas. YUM-O. If you must know, Brad and I turned it up one louder by making ours barbeque chicken pizzas with grilled onions...drool.

All four of us stood around the island to eat because when you are 3 and 11/12ths and 5 years-old, you LOVE to do that stuff. NO CHAIRS! NO TABLES! NO NAPKINS! No food has been thrown yet, but trust me, we could go Animal House in a heartbeat.

Anyway, we were halfway through eating the pizzas and suddenly(!) we were all digging through our Halloween candy bags again.

Why finish pizza when the ONLY reason we're eating it is to get to the candy? Hmmmm...

So in our attempt to make candy even unhealthier than it already is, the kids (ok, Brad and I) decided to make cookies. In lieu of chocolate chips, of course, would be a wide assortment of Halloween candy. Except Skittles because they are disgusting anyway, LET ALONE ruining cookies.

The kids got knives out and chopped up Reese's, Snickers, Twix, Butterfingers, Hershey's, M&Ms...and we dumped it all into the cookie dough batter. No dark chocolate was harmed because I already confiscated those for personal reasons. Eh-hem.

After trick-or-treating, Jackson and Lilly initially tried to "enjoy" lesser candies like Tootsie-Rolls and Dum-Dums. Brad and I quickly halted that nonsense and gave them a Halloween Candy for Dummies tutorial. Our little forum discussed the merits of size (fun size > mini size), caliber (chocolate+nuts=highest echelon), taste, and proper sorting techniques. At the end, we threw away all hard candy with foreign names--Super Natilla, anyone?--and Gummy Body Parts.

Anyway, aesthetically, the batter looked a little...much. BUT YUMMY. No doubt about that.

So I was going to conclude about our fun night involving wrestling and video games and actually eating the cookies, but sadly, that is not all to the story.

Jackson came down at 2 a.m. You know why.

Let's just say I'm so glad Brad was home because when the TOP AND BOTTOM bunks are covered in puke, it is definitely a two-man operation. He left no sheet, quilt, comforter, mattress (how?!) and pillowcase unchunked. Brad and I used our best nasally voices to avoid joining the fun. This went on about hourly through the night. And continues...

Fear not, I made him a luxurious bed next to the toilet with a soft green bath mat and his Buzz Lightyear blanket.

In our defense--and to the hypochondriac crowd, this may not matter--I think this is an actual stomach bug, not candy overload. Brad has been sick on the road all week...

I suppose we'll have pizza leftovers tomorrow. Or more cookies.

Rut (I Mean Gut) Buster

Yesterday, Twinkies made their unhealthy (but trans-fat free!) debut in our house.

For a foodie, I can be especially low-brow from time to time. Like last night.

Bored with our usual dinner-with-friends routine, ("You bring the salad, we'll make dessert") we decided to stir the pot a little bit.

Broken into 4 teams of two, each group rolled the 24-sided Scattergories dice. Each team had a $10 budget to buy food for dinner starting with their letter.

It had to be readily edible (e.g. the "f" team couldn't buy flour because, well...) and have the designated letter in either the brand name or actual item.

So we descended on Super Target with 5 minutes and $10 each. You cannot buy quality or health in that time.

You can, however, carbo load and get fat. Which we did.

Here is what we bought:

B team: Bread, chef Boyardee ravioli, Baked Beans, Big pack mac & cheese

C team: Cheese sticks (mozzarella), Corn dogs

D team: DiGiornio pizza, Dora soup, Dark chocolate, Dibs (ice cream)

T team: Tostitos chips, Tostitos salsa, Twinkies

We chose not to take up valuable stomach real estate with whole grains or protein. But we did cover our fried food and sugar quotas through 2009.