So this is what Chuck came home to the night after Halloween. But he says the photo doesn't do it justice. I fell asleep with dozens of candy wrappers on my stomach, and when he picked a hand full up I opened my eyes, looked at him and said "Embarrassing" before falling back to sleep. This now ranks as my favorite story of all time. I started the night as a gangster and then ended the night as Tracy Gold.
Here's bonus Halloween footage:
In other news from the past week:
Chicken Cordon Bleu: A huge treat in the Pista household was prepackaged Chicken Kiev. Open, microwave, sink fork into, and this stiff breaded chunk of meat would ooze butter and seasoning. A close second: the Chicken Cordon Bleu. Same thing, but it bled white cheese and slivers of ham. Oh Gah.
It's funny to think of prepackaged anything as a treat. Especially since my mom is such a hot chef -- something I never appreciated until I was carrying a cafeteria tray at a small Catholic mistake-iversity in St. Paul.
This recipe is a 35-minute special, and whoa was it awesome. That might be the hormones talking, but lets humor them.
Slightly browned chicken breast smeared with part swiss cheese, part cream cheese, topped with shredded prosciutto, then topped with wheat bread crumbs, olive oil, and herbs. Better than prepackaged? Probably not. But freakin' awesome? Yes. And easy.
And I only had to go to second base with the chicken breast to win it over.
Seitan Satay with Peanut Sauce: I've been battling seitan for awhile now. Usually this involves dousing the wheat-based meat substitute in low-sodium soy sauce. Unfortunately, low-sodium soy sauce alone cannot distract me from the consistency, which is just off. I'm not sure how off off, just off.
And then, of course, we'll do something like eat Seitan while we're watching an episode of "Mad Men" in which the words "dog food" and "horse meat" are mentioned frequently.
This is the closest I've gotten to being satisfied with a dish starring seitan. And Chuck? Well, he thinks we should add it to the list of repeat dishes. We'll see.
The marinade was awesome, a touch spicy. A mix of a bunch sauces and oils. And it baked to the point of random crispiness, which was nice. Like bits of charred steak. Horse steak. The kind used in dog food on "Mad Men." I kid. It was dees.
Cheesy Polenta with Eggs: There really is nothing in this very easy recipe that is not to like. In fact, when I'm trying to find something new to make, I frequently just search for polenta recipes. Aside from that, it's just cheese and onion with polenta that is then baked with an egg and sausage on top, then popped into the broiler for a few seconds to firm up the egg whites.
Breakfast for dinner, bitches.
Michael Jackson: This Is It: The film stars an especially gangly Jackson, who has always seemed to have twice as many hinge joints and three times as many ball and socket joints as the average human. He is Jackson the way Jackson first became Jackson: sequined shirts, glittery pants and a red jacket with shoulder pads. He wears sunglasses almost all the time.
Pretty fricken awesome. Although I haven't gone a day without an MJ classic getting stuck in my head since I saw this. "I Just Can't Stop Loving You," seems to have the most staying power.
Paranormal Activity : Chuck and I went to the midnight show on Thursday night at Zinema 2. It. Was. Rowdy. And super fun. It was seriously like watching a film with your 98 friends. This is totally scary, and I loved it.
The low-budget horror movie stars Katie and Micah, a young couple living together in a two-story house in California. Katie has had an on-and-off again relationship with a paranormal force since she was 8-years-old, something she neglects to mention before they move in together. When she begins experiencing those familiar bumps in the night, Micah drops a load of his paycheck on a video camera, with which, he plans to do the sort of surveillance that is all the rage on "Ghost Hunters International" and "Paranormal State."
Poltergeist : It has been a few years since I've seen this film, and it is way funnier than I remember. It's always weird to see a movie you saw when you were like 10, the age of the kids in the movie, when you are 34, now older than the parents in the movie.
Eating the Dinosaur by Chuck Klosterman: Here’s a confession: I did not read Chuck Klosterman’s entire book Eating the Dinosaur. This slighting came with his permission, nay, his insistence.
Klosterman busts through the fourth wall in his essay about football to suggest that if you aren’t into football, you can jump this chapter: ” … I will understand if you skip to the next essay, which is about ABBA.” And if a reader hangs around a bit longer, thinking, perhaps, “Meh. Who cares. He’ll probably say something about Britney Spears in here somewhere,” Klosterman stops the bus and holds open the door once again:
“If you’d still rather get to the shit about ABBA, you should go there now.”
Friends, I went to the ABBA.
Full review here.