Garden works are underway at my home.  It is a messy business, but I can’t complain.  Two  young and handsome Australian men trek through my kitchen at least forty times a day.  It could be worse.

I’m Amishly new to any pornography outside of Judy Blume’s writing,  but the pervy possibilities of tradesmen in one’s home is a no-brainer.  Yet, rather than asking the tall, dark-haired one up to my bedroom to fix a perfectly intact closet shelf;  I realised all I wanted to do was make chicken liver pate on the hottest day of the year.

The blond, chatty one with the meaty legs, asked how I could stand be in front of the stove on such a warm day.   All I could say was, “I’m trying to incorporate more organ meats into my diet,”  It was the honest to goodness truth.

I can’t decide if my disinterest is wisdom and maturity, or culinary obsessiveness manifesting itself in sexual disfunction.  Either way, it is a win for any of you who like chicken liver pate.  This recipe is a delicious keeper.

Chicken Liver Pate

It is half-gone in this photo because I’m feral and eat spoonfuls of organ meat as a snack.

• 200 g/scant 1/2 lb chicken livers
• 1 shallot finely chopped
• 1 garlic clove finely chopped
• 1 bay leaf
• 1/4 tsp salt, and more to taste
• 1/2 cup water or broth
• 1/8 tsp allspice or nutmeg
• 6 TBS soft butter
• Pepper

1. Rinse and dry the chicken livers
2. Remove any connective tissue.  Gag.
3. In a frying pan, combine the chicken livers, shallot, garlic, bay leaf and salt. Add the water and bring to a simmer.
4. Cover and reduce the heat.  Allow to cook for 5-7 minutes.  Remove from heat and keep covered for 5 minutes.
5. Drain and remove the bay leaf.
6. Process the mixture in a food processor, and add the butter a tablespoon at a time, until completely smooth.
7. Taste and adjust the seasonings.
8. Spoon into a shallow bowl, or individual ramekins.
9. Smooth and cover.
10. Refrigerate for a few hours, and then enjoy.

I know this isn’t for everyone, but as a kid who grew up on liverwurst and mustard sandwiches…this is divine.  And, after the first time you make it, you can add seasonings as you like.  Next time I’ll simmer a little apple in for some sweetness.

*I hope this video can be seen, but if not, it’s Boyz II Men’s “I’ll Make Love To You.”  It makes me wish someone would hand-write Boyz II Men lyrics on parchment paper and leave them in a creepily voyeuristic and inaccessible part of my garden.

Please allow me to apologise to the person who reads this blog.  I went to China for a few weeks naively believing I would be able to post at will.  While I was able to watch all the frustratingly choppy porn I desired, the Communist party of China kept the world safe from another cauliflower recipe crafted by an annoying white woman.

In the past I’ve disparaged cauliflower rice as unappetising mouthfuls of fart, but I found a delicious recipe that has changed my world.  Or, I’ve unknowingly hit rock bottom and can’t even recognise when I’ve spent an hour preparing something that tastes like a poop gust.  If you’re adventurous and enjoy cauliflower, try it.  Let me know if it is pleasant, or if I’ve reached Gwyneth Paltrow levels of denial.

Cauliflower Fried “Rice”

This is a two part process, but it makes a big batch.  My brother felt it was too pea heavy and picked them out, so use your discretion.

*Just so you know, I made him eat all the peas he pushed aside once they got really cold.

Baked Cauliflower Rice

• 1 head cauliflower, chopped and pulsed into rice sized pieces
• 1 TBS cooking oil of your choice, I use coconut oil
• 1/4-1/2 tsp salt
• 1/4 tsp white pepper
• 1/4 tsp fish sauce

1. Preheat your oven to 425f/210c.
2. Mix the cauliflower, oil, salt, pepper, and fish sauce together.
3. Spread over a parchment lined baking sheet and bake for 15-20 minutes until lightly browned, mixing halfway through.
4. If you decide to stop here, you have a nice, base “rice”recipe.  If you’re a thrill seeker, keep going.

Fried “Rice”

sauce

• 1 1/2 TBS Tamari
• 1 tsp fish sauce
• 1/2 tsp mirin
• 1/4 tsp white pepper

1. Combine sauce ingredients and set aside.

the rest

• 2 TBS coconut oil
• 3 eggs beaten
• 1/2 small onion finely chopped
• 2 cloves of garlic minced
• a few handfuls cooked protein of your choice chopped into bite-sized pieces
• 2 carrots cut into small cubes
• 1/2 cup frozen peas, rinsed and drained
• 1 batch cauliflower rice
• chorizo, cut into small cubes and pan-fried until crisp and brown
• sea salt
• sesame oil (toasted)

1. Heat half the oil and scramble the eggs.  Set aside.
2. Add the rest of the oil to the pan until it shimmers.  Fry the onion and and garlic for around 20 seconds.
3. Add the protein and heat through for a minute or so.
4. Add the carrots and saute for 2-3 minutes.
5. Increase the heat and add the  cauliflower, peas, chorizo, and sauce, tossing.  Stir fry for a couple minutes before adding the eggs back in.
6. Taste and adjust seasonings.

I like to serve this rice with chicken skewers and faux peanut satay sauce.

*Will you pretty please, with sugar on top, watch this video?  It takes nine seconds for it to kick in, but it’s super wonderful.  I was having a moment where I wanted to smear red lipstick all over my face and start a grease fire, and this song saved me from myself.

Fundraising is awesome.  I stand by that.  Only a monster could have a beef with gathering capital for worthy causes.  As it turns out, I have a monster for a friend.  He said he’s tired of emails from old university chums and work colleagues asking for handouts so they can bungee jump in Costa Rica, or run marathons dressed as gorillas.  “These are all excitement or self-improvement based activities,” he explained, “if they really want my money they’ll do something degrading.”

Reluctantly, I will admit he has a point.  I briefly considered fundraising to enter the Boston Marathon, but realised it was mostly because there was no chance in hell I’d ever make the qualifying time on my own.  However, I must hold fast in my respect for marathons and ultras.  It is not easy work. I’m happy to give a fiver.  But, jumping off a bridge in Hawaii?  Eat me.

I would’t say I’m a bad person, but I can’t stop fantasising about the fundraising events I wish were commonplace:

1. Performing at an open-mic comedy night with no pre-prepared routine.
2. £2 per slice of uncooked pancetta consumed.
3. Allowing a three year old to design/select forearm tattoo.
4. Watching “Moonraker” every single day for a month.
5. Going door to door to sing Bel Biv Devoe’s “Poison”.

I don’t think these will happen any time soon, but I want to put it out there that I have a deep pocket for anyone willing to take it to the next level.

Or you can sell Girl Scout cookies.  I have a deep pocket for those too.

Girl Scout Cookies-Samoa Edition

Yesterday I received a letter in the post from my parents. I decided to open it on the bus, and felt a little giddy to see a St Patrick’s day card enclosed. I smiled at the sweet gesture, but felt eyes on the back of my head.  A glance over my shoulder revealed an older man staring at my card with puzzlement and disgust. It only had a leperchaun dancing across a rainbow, but the man’s face read as if it said, “sorry I raped your cat” across the top.  St Patrick’s day is not something celebrated here.

I miss it.  The family parties, homemade Baileys, rediscovering that corned beef is indeed delicious…abandoning my sister and her infant children at the side of the road during the parade to go get smashed in a sports bar.  Pure joy.

Anyway, it snuck up on me this year and I (surprise) feel a bit melancholy.  Most inspirational quotes I see imply that we make our own happiness.  That a positive mental attitude (PMA) and forging ahead with our own hopes and dreams drives satisfaction.  For most things, that absolutely has to be true.  However, there is no mindset that makes cooking two pounds of corned beef and drinking seven shots of Baileys on my own ever okay.  Imagine if I died and was found that way?  I’m sorry, but feck me, that’s grim.

If you are going to celebrate St Patrick’s day this year, I’m jealous.  I hate you a little, but please have a shot for me.  Send me a picture of your corned beef sandwich, your grandma passed out in the tub, or someone named Katie.

Mom’s Horseradish Sauce

Because I am in denial about a St Patrick’s day I don’t get to celebrate, I haven’t prepared a recipe.  But, I have a neat one from my mom’s cookbook.  I didn’t get her permission to post this, but I think she stopped reading this blog some time ago for obvious reasons, so it is unlikely she’ll find out.

Luxembourg is one of the most boring cities/countries in the world.   While beautiful, it is also chillingly damp, unsmiling, and closed for business on Sundays and Mondays.  It is what I imagine a sexual encounter with Nicole Kidman would be like if she took the form of a very tiny european country.  Super pretty, yet unenthusiastic and lacking in warmth and humor.

There was, however, a Chi-Chi’s Mexican restaurant in the barely beating heart of the centrally located Place De Armes.  This was very surprising to me. Chi-Chi’s moved out of the North American market in 2003 due to a hepatitis outbreak that left four dead.  Now, here it was again, welcomed with open arms by a population so bored, they would trade possible death for tacos.

Yet, the trademark fiesta-style lettering spoke to me, and I was stunned by a visceral nostalgia that nearly bowled me over.  I’d left home shortly after high school and realised that I had been a very different person the last time I’d eaten at Chi-Chi’s.  Back then, I’d believed Dave Grohl was the weakest link in Nirvana, and that it was  possible to get pregnant through denim overalls.

As I took my seat, I contemplated whether the interior style was Aztec, Mayan, Pueblo, Tex-Mex or racist.  The meal began with a warmed bowl of stale but fine tasting tortilla chips accompanied by a two tablespoon serving of pureed salsa in a small plastic container.  While “devastated” is probably the wrong word to use in a world where three billion people live on less than £2 a day…I was inconsolable at the absence of sweet corn cake from the menu.  Some solid Chi-Chi’s original plates remained, including chimichangas, beef and bean burritos, and a myriad of other oddities covered in cheese.  But, alas, no sweet corn cake.  The menu also boasted Tex-Mex offerings in the form of ribs, burgers and fries…which is straight-up lazy bullshit.

Overall, it was good.  Solid.  Chi Chi’s used to be the Mexican equivalent of Olive Garden.  Now they’re more the TGIF version of Tex-Mex.  Seasons change.  Feelings change.  Chi Chi’s has changed.  Heck, I’ve changed.  I no longer sexualise denim, and I’ve learned that sometimes you can’t go home.  It’s just not the same.

Guacamole

• 1 medium avocado
• Pinch of chilli flakes
• big pinch of salt
• nice squeeze of lime
• 1 spring onion finely diced

1. Mash and mix.
2. Eat it before it turns brown, or seal it with a layer of tears for later.
3. Delicious with Bugles, Capri Sun and the president of your high school rifle club.