Feel Free To Call Me An Idiot...

...these are the words I said to my husband earlier today...

Why?

Because I ate the damned pizza, that's why.

I've been diagnosed with celiac disease (with the added special touch of being lactose intolerant, thank you very much)...and for the most part I haven't missed bread and pasta all that much...

Until today.

I ordered pizza for the kids for lunch as a treat and even decided to splurge on delivery (mainly so I wouldn't have to leave my nice warm house and go out into the damp, cold April morning) and when the thing arrived, I started to salivate...

Setting the pizza on the counter to cool for a bit, I told myself over and over (mantra-like, you know?), "Bad for you, bad for you...painful bloating, bad gas...don't do it, don't do it nononono...."

And then the little voice inside my head went to work, telling me that there was and is no way possible that I have celiac disease...that I must have made up the whole thing in my head...I mean, really, no one else in my family has this problem...maybe whatever was the matter with me before has gone away...

And the smell of the pizza filled the kitchen with its tantalizing aroma and the crust...it was so...soft...and so I succumbed to temptation and ate an entire triangle...and then I watched my stomach begin to bloat out like someone was filling a balloon inside my gut...

Then I lay groaning on the bed, curled into as much of the fetal position as I could get and whined about all the things I would have to give up...

My birthday is Saturday and there will be no birthday cake. Sniff...

I can't ever eat ice cream again. Sniff, sniff...

No beer. Sniff, snort, sniff...

No more Buffalo Chicken at Denny's on the kids' birthdays. Moan...

No more pizza. Wail...

And just when I was about to start feeling really sorry for myself, another thought crossed my mind...

Suck it up, princess...and figure out a way to make these things so they taste good...

Because I am not living without pizza or birthday cake for the rest of my life...

The Countdown Starts...

Turkey defrosting? Check...

Rolls done? Check...

Cookies baked and decorated? Check...

Fudge? Check...

Nut bars? Check...

Cheesecake? Check...

Fruitcake? Check...

Christmas cards mailed? Check...

Gifts bought? Check...(note I did not say wrapped)

House cleaned? Check...

Ready to pass out and/or drink heavily?

Check...

I May Be Going A Tad Overboard...

...but like I said last week, I have been completely inspired by the movie "Julie & Julia"...

Now see, I normally do the cooking around here, not because Brian doesn't want to, doesn't like to or is incapable of cooking (in fact, he's pretty good, if I may say so)...no, the problem is me. I have always thought of myself as a fairly non-picky eater, but that, alas, is not true. I'm also pretty bad at hiding my emotions, so when I put something in my mouth and I don't immediately think, WOW, whoever has done the cooking is bound to notice my less than appreciative response (this despite 25 some odd years of theatre training and experience)...

That person is, of course, Brian...and my sorry reactions to some of the things he has cooked has led him to avoiding the kitchen most of the time, at least when it comes to food prep...

This is not just my (very) public apology to my husband,...but my confession too, because, as has been mentioned (just a few times), we went to see "Julie&Julia" last week and since then I have become a wee bit obsessed with learning the proper way to poach an egg, make hollandaise sauce (no blenders, thank you very much), and discover the difference between shallots, green onions and yellow onions (I was under the impression, for some reason, that shallots were more like green onions than yellow ones, but it turns out it's the other way around) and I have spent a chunk of every day attempting to expand my repertoire of recipes...I have my usual lasagna (that the kids and Brian rave about) and ice cream cakes and meatloaf (ground red peppers added to it for extra moisture and flavor)...but like most people, I have the same few meals that I make over and over, especially the ones I know the kids will eat without too much fuss (and yes, they do have to try the food, even if they look at it and pronounce it "the most disgusting thing that has ever existed on the planet Earth"-thank you Ian)...

This week, however, has found me with my nose buried in more than a few cookbooks, mainly the Martha Stewart Original Classics that has been on my shelf for over half a year, but whose spine has barely been cracked...Brian, who gave me the book (and has picked up at least four more cookbooks from the library), has not complained about how much time I've spent cooking, mainly because he has been the willing and eager recipient of my experiments (even a few that I've made up myself!)...

The strange thing about all of this has been that I actually feel like sharing all of this with my husband...not just the eating part of the food, but the actual cooking of it...

Our only problem now lies in the fact that our kitchen is so small two people cannot possibly cook comfortably in there (unless bumping into one another and doing the "pardon-me-excuse-me-you're-in-my-way-dance" is your idea of cooking heaven)...but maybe, just maybe, I can ease up on my control freak tendencies enough to let Brian regain his joy of cooking too...

And all of this from one little movie...

I Made...

...MAYONNAISE!!

Yes, I know I'm yelling...but hey, I MADE MAYONNAISE!

From scratch people...

I told you I was inspired...

In case you're wondering, I used Julia Child's recipe...but since I really like Martha Stewart (I don't care what anyone says), I'm going to try her recipe next...that way we can do a side-by-side taste comparison...but let me tell you, the homemade stuff is fantastic...

With all due respect to Hellman's and Kraft, I am never buying the stuff again...

Julie & Julia vs. Martha...

I went to see "Julie & Julia" this week with my husband and came out of the theatre feeling inspired to get back into the kitchen. Although I usually do most of the cooking around here, mainly because I'm a pretty picky eater, in summer, I generally develop an aversion to slaving over a hot stove and we end up eating endless amounts of salads and anything - and I do mean anything - that can be grilled on the bbq...

And so, with Julie Powell (she of the "Julie" in the title of the movie, book and original blog) in mind, I started hunting around for my own copy of "Mastering the Art of French Cooking"...and in the process picked up the Martha Stewart book that Brian had given me for Christmas last year...

As I perused the pages of Martha's tome (The Martha Stewart Living Cookbook - The Original Classics), I came to a conclusion...

Julie Powell was a wimp.

Her story is pretty well known now, what with Nora Ephron and Amy Adams bringing it to life. She decided, back in 2002, to attempt every single recipe in Julia Child's Mastering the Art of French Cooking in one year. That would be 536 recipes in 365 days.

Martha's book?

Over 1100 recipes.

More than double what Julie Powell did.

I thought about trying every recipe in The Original Classics, but I don't think I'm really that crazy.

Yet...