Adventures of The Yellow Peril

AND THEN BEEF, SAUTEED WITH PEAS AND ONIONS

The next time you're struggling to figure out what to make for dessert, try this recipe, which I ate yesterday at a Malaysian restaurant on M Street:

3 cups shaved ice (requires snow cone machine or ice storm);

3 tbsp. brown sugar;

1/2 cup evaporated milk

Sound good?  Oh wait, I'm just getting started:

3 tbsp. peanuts, unsalted

3 tbsp. red kidney beans, partially cooked

3 tbsp. creamed corn (canned, if you don't have creamed)

Unidentified black gelatinous substance, to taste.

Add top three ingredients to a bowl; then add remaining ingredients.  Serve immediately.  Watch as everyone around you vomits in their mouth, then asks you, "What the EFF is this?"

To which you reply, "Just a little something I learned from the Malaysians, courtesy of The Peril."

I wish I knew how to transfer photos from my cell phone to my blog. 

PS - Yeah, it totally tastes like feet.

NEVER AGAIN, ETHIOPIAN

I've had Ethiopian food for the second time in two weeks. 

I've also come to the conclusion that I don't like Ethiopian food.  The spongy bread weirds me out too much.  Also, I can't stop making inappropriate jokes about it.

What bothers me even more is that I have yet to have a really, really quality meal in this city.  JH warned me about this, but I didn't listen.  I was convinced that, by sheer population size, there was fantastic food to be had all over the place.  In the past week, I've had $50 sushi that tasted like rubber, a chicken marsala dish that kind of tasted like the back of an airplane seat, and -- the most egregious offense -- a chicken parmesan sandwich made with -- wait for it -- Diced.  Grilled. Chicken.  Breading on a chicken parm is the glue which holds the entire sandwich -- nay, civiliation -- intact.  Oh, if Hog Island could see me now, I'd be ashamed.  So very ashamed.

The inevitable conclusion of all of these horrendous meals is that it's time to start cooking.  I love catching up with all of my friends, but for reals, I don't like to wake up the next morning from some god awful meal feeling like death.  I miss Whole Foods.  They have them here, but it's not the same.  I miss Central Market.  God, I miss Polvo's (this fantastic Mexican restaurant in Austin that stole my heart two years ago and has yet to give it back).  I didn't even get to say goodbye.  The problem is, I think I'm finally going to have to go through the basement and unpack my kitchen boxes, and I hate unpacking.  Especially when I just have to move again in September (long story about that, but if you know of anyone that's renting out a 2 BR apartment for September with parking and doesn't smell like cat pee, give us a holla).

In other news, I ran possibly the dorkiest 10K on Saturday ever with J and a new Iowa kid that I managed to bully into running with us.  Afterwards, we drank bloody marys and watched the World Cup, and then later that evening I met up with Kanye and Pooky and various other significant others for dinner.  Don't even make me talk about the food at dinner.  I'm too traumatized on the inside. 

CLEANING OUT THE 'FRIDGE

What do you do with 6 slices of stale bread, 2 mushy bananas, and a handful of dried Ranier cherries?

Why, turn it into a bread pudding, of course. 

I am a golden god.

FREE SANDWICHES FOR LIFE

A couple of 1Ls who weren't paying attention during their Con Law class clued me in today to the fact that my favorite deli in town has been using me as their Jared. 

Since I'm heading there tomorrow, my demands will be few.  Either they reimburse me for the hundreds of sandwiches I've eaten there before, or I get free sandwiches for life.  I see this as a win-win situation.

PS - remind me to tell you later about how MP ate 22 stone crab claws at Truluck's on Monday.  I can't even be angry that I only ate 18, because that's amazing.

AN ATHLETE I CAN GET BEHIND

I knew he was awesome when he'd tee off with a cigarette dangling from his mouth, but now I've discovered that's he's much more than awesome; he's my soulmate.

Favorite line:

"Then Pepsi bought [SoBe] and didn't want anything to do with me," he said. "And they had come out with a chocolate SoBe that tasted just like chocolate milk," he added wistfully. "It was great."

Oh, John, if only you knew.

THE GREAT EQUILIBRIUM

More examples about how my life just evens itself out:

1.  I ran 3 miles and worked out for an hour yesterday, but then at 11:00 PM felt the need to gorge myself on carpaccio, rich spinach gnocci in a bolognese sauce, and some kind of delicious warm-centered chocolate cake thing;

2.  I was all excited about going to a 1L happy hour, only to find out that I'd been excluded from some 3L happy hour (along with T, who professed her unhappiness at the situation in every class she had yesterday);

3.  I didn't have any classes yesterday (one was canceled) but somehow found myself doing a 2-hour directed study with my favorite professor.  Part of it is awesome.  Part of it focuses on the revisions to Article 2 of the UCC. 

4.  I ate a lot of cheese on Sunday (I mean, I'm talking probably around a pound), but it made me so sick that I couldn't eat much of anything until Tuesday;

Yeah, I know.  Thrilling stuff.  My week actually has been much better than this, filled with lots of drinking and eating, but you can't really capture quality conversation well in a short blog post.  By the way, I know I've said this before, but I'm going to keep saying it until the novelty wears off: I absolutely, absolutely love the fact that everyone who was studying abroad last semester is back.  The sight of all you people (you know who you are) walking into the mentor office yesterday to chillax warms my heart to the hundredth degree.

Enough emoting.  I have to go threaten rage on mentors about intramural basketball.  Such is the triviality of my day.

CRUSH OVER

As soon as I tried to find out whether he was single, I hit a motherload of Flay-haters.  Maybe my dream was about someone else, like Gina DeLaurentis...

DUE TO INCLEMENT WEATHER

... I had to eat at Arby's. 

Rumor has it that when the news hit, they started kicking people out of the library, and these people were losing their shit.  Tools.

I have a great story about my interview with the San Antonio newspaper, by the way.  Details to follow.

MAC AND HEAVEN

People love a lot of things about Seattle, I've learned.  What's not to like?  There's mountains, there's water, there's a great cultural and music scene, and for crying out loud, they have amazing seafood.

For me, though, the line between like and love is drawn here.  I left Seattle just three weeks ago with 5 (yes, 5) packages of this blessed shop's Flagship cheese, and tonight, I used the last bit of it to make some of the most divine baked macaroni and cheese ever. 

After the mac and cheese came out of the oven, AE, T & I sat around like the Golden Girls and ate and talked about the old country.  Well, more accurately, they caught me yelling the lyrics to "Mr. Brightside" while I cleaned the bathtub, and in an attempt to deflect my embarassment, I offered them some of the coveted dish to regain my dignity. 

I know, I know.  My life is boring and annoying to read about.  You're probably wondering what happened to the panic attacks of my 1L year, the funny stories of getting crunk and devouring pizza somewhere on 6th Street, and my bitching about being single?

Well, I can tell you.  I became a 3L, stopped caring about school, and found a boy.  Makes for awesome reading, doesn't it?

Maybe tomorrow I'll tell you about how I almost read for class for the first time this semester.  Almost.

ODE TO A SANDWICH

As a 3L, there's very little I miss about my first year of law school, except for my friends and the comraderie you share as a 1L.  Most of my friends are studying abroad this semester, and to be quite honest, I've been so busy lately that I hadn't had a chance to miss having them around. 

Today at lunch, however, was when I really started to feel it.   I have these two friends, JH and MP, and last year, we'd made a regular habit of going to lunch at our favorite deli, Hog Island.

I went to Hog Island today for my lunch break, and when I returned, I immediately composed this solemn e-mail:

Hey people,

I discovered earlier this week that my judicial internship is within walking distance of Hog Island Deli.  Hurrah!  This morning, I was hungover as all hell, so I couldn't get anything done.  Plus, all I could think about since I woke up this morning was how I was going to go get a Hog Island sandwich for lunch. 

At 11:59 on the dot, I was out the door and on my way to chicken parm heaven.  Once I got there though, I realized that I was going to have to eat alone.  What to do?  Do I forsake the chicken parm due to my fear of eating alone?  Do I take it to go and lose some of the delicious freshness of the sandwich?  Am I really having this internal monologue?

Not to be deterred, I ordered anyway.  While I was waiting for the guy to bring #41 her (i.e., me) sandwich, I thought about all the good times I had with you guys, sitting at those metal tables -- the tears, the laughter, and yes, even the rage.  And it dawned on me that perhaps this sandwich was not so delicious in and of itself but delicious because of what the sandwich represents -- happier times, youthful innocence, and the bonds of friendship.  As the minutes ticked by, I sat at my table, quietly freaking out about being in a public place alone but thinking even more about the fact that the sandwich might not be as tasty, because its spiritual flavor was gone.

Then, glory of all glories, the sandwich arrived.  I'd asked for it "to go," but now that I'd had 7 minutes to contemplate the significance of my friendship with you two, I couldn't wait.  Curiosity besieged me, and I tore into that white butcher paper to reveal a perfectly melted chicken parm.

I'm happy to report that that sandwich was fucking good.

Still, I miss you.

The Yellow Peril