Wednesday, February 27, 2013

I Love Wieners

Elizabeth hates . . . and, I mean HATES . . . the word "wiener." So this post is dedicated to her.



Let's face it. This blog is about food. Sometimes I throw in a little exercise stuff because those two things go hand in hand. And, sometimes it reads like a guidebook in bad parenting, which has nothing to do with food but everything to do with why I'm an emotional eater.


Sometimes the food is good.



Sometimes it's bad.



But 99% of my posts are about what I ate, what I wanted to eat, or what I saw someone else eat.

Today the food is bad. So, so, so bad. And so, so, so delicious. If you are one of those people that are "killing it" every single day, good for you. I'm not.

I believe in living life to the fullest.



And sometimes that involves a big old wiener.



Today I was in Dallas and my friend Christa took me to a new hot dog joint called Hoffman's Hots.



The hot dogs were fantastic, but the decor was even better. The twelve year old boy in me couldn't quit giggling.



I had a bacon and cheese German frank.



I promise you that it left absolutely nothing to be desired.  I made a happy plate.



However, I kind of wish I had gone all the way with the kielbasa.  I really do love sausage.

Side options included onion fries, tater tots, mac n cheese, and coleslaw. You don't really need to ask what I had.   I had some of each (except the coleslaw):







And just when I was stuffed full of wiener and thought I couldn't take any more, the manager brought us a complimentary cookies and cream custard shake.


He said he chose us because we looked like we could take some more but I think he was eavesdropping on our conversation, which revolved around restraining orders, orgies, and plastic surgery. (I was in Dallas folks. You know what they say about "when in Rome . . ." .)



Here is my recommendation: If you are in Dallas and are in the mood for a wiener, head across the tracks for the best dog in town. It was five stars out of five stars.  I don't think you could go wrong with anything on the menu.

Now, if you are thinking, "what about Lent, Jenni?!?"  Well, let me tell you.  On  the second day of lent, I was on my way home from my daughter's Valentine's party, and I wrecked and totaled my car (that is not an admission of fault or liability and should not be construed as such). 



We've already established that I'm an emotional eater.  So, when I found myself stranded on the side of the road with a dozen oreos dipped in white chocolate . . .




 . . . well, I think we all know how that ended.   And, it all went down hill after that. 

Don't you dare judge me.  The big man upstairs is taking care of that. 

Happy Hotdoggin',

JMo


Wednesday, February 13, 2013

It's that time of year again . . .

If you don't know what today is you are probably going to Hell.  Or maybe you just aren't Catholic or it's close cousin, Episcopalian.

Because its the first day of Lent!




As an Episcopalian, the Lenten sacrifice is nearly mandatory. You can give something up or take something up . . . as long as you are improving yourself.  Most Episcopalians choose the former since we are generally more interested in punishing ourselves.



Since this whole blogging thing started as as a means for documenting Lent last year, people have been asking what I'm giving up this year.

It took me a while to figure it out. I didn't want to do the exact same thing again. So after much deliberation, I decided to give up desserts and seconds.



I actually think that the seconds will be the harder of the two. Because I'm a seconds . . .


. . . and sometimes thirds . . . kind of girl.

I know what you are thinking, but there will be no cheating.

Source


I won't be doubling my firsts.  No matter how tempted I may be.

So, with the impending sentence of no desserts/seconds looming, are you wondering how I handled Fat Tuesday?  Well, in the words of Elizabeth,

"I ate like it was the end of days, not just the beginning of Lent."

I was in Dallas for lunch. When it was my turn to order, I told the waiter that I wanted a large bowl of lobster bisque and a slice of carrot cake. He said, "together?" And I answered, "Yes please."

Imagine my discontent when my soup came out alone.



That led to the following conversation:

Waiter:  How is everything?

Me:  Wonderful. Can I please get my cake? 
Waiter:  Oh you were serious?

Me:  Damn straight.
 Voila.



The cake was excellent. It was end of days cake. It was death row cake.  And, I owned it.




And then, I did it again at dinner:






I can't remember the last time I had two desserts in one day.  I feel kind of disgusting today.

But, now I'm ready for Lent.  Bring it on.

JMo