Woman of Leisure

With no job and my permanent residence currently the ol' Barnes Estate, I've been spending a good deal of time either going to the local YMCA or cooking. I decided in February that I was going to try to be a vegan for a month. This sprouted from my desire to eat more natural, organic, and local foods, because I'm trying live a more eco-conscious lifestyle. (By the way, as part of my campaign to be a more eco-conscious shopper, I bought Tom's All Natural Deoderant, which made me smell really really terrible; it somehow made natural body odor at least twelve times more potent. it is awful, don't buy it).



I thought a good launch of my new lifestyle would be this month-long test of will. Unfortunately there were some really wonderful food-related events this month: make-up pork and sauerkraut dinner that was postponed from New Year's Day, (deemed Porkfest by a certain gentleman caller of mine) my birthday dinner, Easter, my other birthday dinner, an impromptu suggestion by the brains behind the Porkfest label for a Saturday sushi adventure. For the most part, I didn't cheat through this gauntlet of savory temptation: malted milk balls trying to trip me up, strip steaks swinging at my head like machetes, giant hams rolling at me like the big ball in Raiders of the Lost Ark. And I do still have a week left, so there's plenty more room to cheat, I suppose.



I did cheat on my birthday dinner, but I had accounted and planned for this cheat since the beginning of my endeavor. My family took me to Bona Terra, which is a lovely little restaurant in Sharpsburg with a daily-changing menu and the freshest local ingredients. I had swordfish and gentleman caller had duck. It was ducktastic (props, jim nelson)! I also cheated when gentleman caller wanted to go to Chaya, a sushi restaurant in Squirrel Hill. I hadn't had sushi in a year and I wasn't going to watch him eat delicious salmon and tuna rolls while I ate some weak-ass udon noodle mixed vegetable bowl. I also cheated one Saturday, when hungover, hungry and marooned at gentleman caller's home, (where there is little vegan fare) I ate dinosaur chicken nuggets in ranch dressing. This was more sinful and more delicious than either the swordfish or the sushi.


If you haven't had chicken nuggets in ranch dressing lately, treat yourself. It was also Hidden Valley Ranch and I started imagining that there are dinosaurs that still exist today, but they can only be found in the Hidden Valley, where they work on a co-op farm together to make ranch dressing and wear clothes and live creepy anthropomorphic lives , like the characters from that show "Dinosaurs." (Not the mama!) But I digress. I did NOT cheat at Easter thanks in large part to my vegetarian aunt, who has been ultra-supportive of my dalliance with veganism, and made a good part of the meal accessible to our needs. Plus I made the ever-famous Soba Noodles with Broccoli and Peanut Sauce. I made this several times in Prague with and for friends, and it is really stunningly good.





I got this great vegan cookbook and I've been obsessed with it for four months now. This weekend I made butternut squash and lentil stew and forced it upon gentleman caller's roommates. It was fun, except for the part where I cut my finger on a serrated knife peeling the squash, and blood squirted all over my cookbook. But I've been either making something out of this book or experimenting with my own concoctions every day and I realized how much I really really enjoy cooking. It's relaxing for me and I like having cookies or stews to bring friends. It's rekindling my closeted ambition to be a food critic.



Back to my second main source of activity as a woman of leisure: my daily adventures to the YMCA. I bring this up primarily to relate a story from last week. I'll call this "The Tale of the Misplaced Hip." I set off on a Wednesday morning to attend the AM Challenge class, which thus far had been a low-impact aerobic workout featuring the step and ball. But the normal instructor was sick, leaving the Zumba instructor to cover. According to Zumba.com, Zumba routines "... feature interval training sessions where fast and slow rhythms and resistance training are combined to tone and sculpt your body while burning fat. Add some Latin flavor and International zest into the mix and you've got ZUMBA!" Several women went running for the door when they heard that Zumba was on the bill, but I stayed. Call it determination or call it masochism. The motley crew that remained after the class-ditchers behaved eponymously was myself, a grandfather/twelve-year-old boy team, and two women in their sixties. As the class proceeded, and I began to wiggle my ass and shake my hips, (directly in front of grandson and grandpa) I noticed that the older women around me were doing far better and dancing really well, while I was tripping over my own feet and trying to minimize my butt/hip movement, so as not to offend the gentlemen behind me. I'm tall and kind of lanky and awkward and generally don't feel comfortable doing that move where you squat down and pump your fists and hump the air. It was all very embarassing. I then noticed my pants were on inside-out. I need to find a job soon.