My Favs – Page 2 – Fervent Foodie

Roasted Parmesan Brussels Sprouts {recipe}

November 6, 2012 8 Comments

If you look at any list of most-hated vegetables, Brussels sprouts are at the top of the pack. I don’t understand it! When did Brussels sprouts get such a bad wrap? Call me weird, but I even liked them as a kid–though, back then my step mom covered the sprouts (and all vegetables, for that matter) with a thick blanket of melted Velveeta cheese. So, I’ve been eating Brussels sprouts since the 90’s, since before it was cool, that is, and mispronouncing the veggie just as long. I mean, did you know there was an “s” at the end of “Brussel”? It’s even more baffling than the first time I saw sprouts still attached to the stalk! (If you have no clue what I’m talking about, check out this pic!). CRAZY!

Brussels sprouts are one of my go-to vegetable sides, and this easy recipe resulted in the best batch of sprouts I’ve ever cooked. Tender, slightly salty, and dusted with sharp Parmesan cheese.

My Favs, Ramblings

I hate birthdays.

July 12, 2012 7 Comments

I hate birthdays.

Every year around my birthday I find myself falling into an unavoidable slump. It’s not like it used to be back when I was in my early twenties and we celebrated birth-weeks instead of days. Back then you were something special on your birthday–the queen of the night, the damsel to be doted on–and simply uttering “it’s my birthday” got you on the VIP list.

It’s even harder to compare today’s birthdays with birthdays of my childhood. Back then birthdays were the highlight of the entire year, just after Christmas and right before Halloween. In the weeks leading up to my thirteenth birthday, I was hit with a bout of insomnia. I was most literally too excited to sleep. I would sit in my bedroom, sweating profusely in the mid-summer heat of the night, fantasizing about my impending slumber party. I’d think about what I would wear and the games that we’d play. I’d triple count the number of friends who had rsvp’d. I’d estimate the birthday loot I’d rake in by multiplying each family member times their average historical gift. Then I’d visualize all the new school clothes I could buy with the money, and how cool I’d be rolling into 8th grade in a new pair of wide leg J’nco’s and contrasting Billabong T. My stomach ached with excitement, and when I could think of nothing else to plan nor additional calculations to perform, I resorted to putting together thousand-piece puzzles to pass the hours. Each dawn I’d pull out my notepad with my hand-drawn countdown calendar and scratch off another day. Twenty seven days down, nine days to go. Only nine more days!

Birthdays aren’t like that any more. If I’m being honest here, and trust me I am, there’s a part of me that wants birthdays to be special like they once were. These dark thoughts leave me feeling silly, guilty even, for wanting something so childish. Birthdays aren’t special like they used to be because I’m a grown ass woman now. Now birthdays consist of working (like a responsible adult), eating a sensible lunch, and dissuading conversations that start with “oh my gosh, it’s your birthday?” or “have any big plans for your birthday?” and especially “soooo, do you feel any older?” All of this unusual attention inevitably makes me feel devoid because no matter what I’m doing to punctuate the day of my birth it’s not enough. It’s no slumber party with 8 of my closest friends, it’s no free-shot-filled night on the town, and it’s most certainly no week-long celebration where “because it’s my birthday” serves as my steadfast mantra.

Today is my birthday.

Today is my birthday, and I am not this day’s princess nor am I this day’s queen.

Today is my friggin’ birthday.

Where’s my chocolate cake?

Features, Food Memories, My Favs, Recipes

Easy Black Bean Burritos {recipe}

May 3, 2012 5 Comments

A funny thing happened the other day.

I went to a sausage making class and emerged three hours later a fleeting vegetarian.

Bring on the beans and cheese.

Of course, I expected a slightly different outcome when I signed up for the class. Visions of grinding my own meat and hand-stuffing thick chicken, turkey, and pork sausages filled my thoughts while mounds of frozen links filled my fantasized freezer. I was one excited sausageer – that is until I spent 3 hours huddled around fifty pounds of raw pork. There was just so much meat and so many people and so much talk about the step-by-step process involved in getting the poor free range piggies from the farm to that fork you’re holding in your hand there. And the smell…. oh dear god the smell.

I didn’t know it was possible to get the meat sweats without actually consuming meat.

Features, Fitness, My Favs

9 things I learned while training for a half marathon

April 30, 2012 21 Comments

When I first started having knee problems about two years ago, I went to see an orthopedic doctor. After a lengthy round of Q&A and a few X-rays, the doctor simply concluded that “some knees just aren’t made for running.” Really, doctor? Apparently the x-rays didn’t show the stubbornness that fills my bones like a tough impervious marrow. From that day forward, I’ve wanted nothing more than to run farther, longer, and faster than I had the day before. I love running, and I wanted, no, I NEEDED to prove that doctor wrong.

In December, I signed up for the Charlotte Racefest (my first ever half marathon), but after four long months of training ending with yet ANOTHER knee injury, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to run it. This time around, I hurt my knee doing lunges in a bootcamp class at the Y. When will I learn? I took it easy the entire month before the big race, but when race day arrived I still wasn’t confident I’d be able to run 13.1 miles. At that point, I only had two 10-mile runs under my belt.

Since I’d already forked out the cash for the half marathon, I decided to at least attempt to run it. During the race, I tried not to think too much about my knees, but as the miles ticked by I couldn’t help but feel dumbfounded that I was still running. Most of the race was shrouded in a euphoric haze, but as I neared the finish line I started to feel nauseus. My pace slowed, and I began to feel dizzy. With every step, the looming finish line appeared to be one step further away. At that moment, the BF jumped out from the sidelines smiling and hooting and clapping his hands like a crazy man. I was so close. I put my head down, dug my heels in, and pumped my arms. Seconds later I crossed the finish line clocking in at 1:56:58–literally seconds below my original 9-minute mile goal!

As I hobbled to the sideline, I could do nothing but let out an exasperated “BOO YA.” Some knees just aren’t made for running, my ass.

Here are the top 9 things I learned while training for my first half marathon:

#1 Buy good shoes. This one is #1 for a reason, and I can’t stress it enough. The first time I hurt my knee, it was completely and solely due to the fact that I was wearing a cheap pair of old cross trainers. I urge you to go to a real running store and hop on the treadmill. Have the sales associate watch your running patterns and check to see if you under or over pronate your ankles. Is your stride too long? Are you heel striking? (I was!) Don’t buy shoes based solely on the sweet color or the cool gel thingy in the heel. It’s hard, I know. I LOVE my Asics Gel Nimbus 13’s, and plan to get a new pair this month!

#2 Create a plan (brownie points if you use Excel). When you’re training for a long distance race, especially if it’s your first one, you can’t just approach it all willy nilly. Are you serious about completing the race? Yes? Well then sit your butt down, do some research, and create your plan of attack. Make sure to factor in short runs, long runs, and those extremely important recovery days. Check out my half marathon training plan here.

Features, Food Memories, My Favs, Recipes

200 Calorie Tuna Salad Recipe

April 20, 2012 3 Comments

Growing up with divorced parents, my brother, sister, and I split our time between week nights at dad’s and weekends at mom’s. Everyone once in a while, we’d have to flip flop our schedule, and it seemed when those rare occasions popped up both mom and dad had an unspoken urge to make them special. On those weekends, dad would make breakfast: dippy eggs, buttery toast, and his breakfast potatoes. I do believe my love affair with potatoes started with these very ones around the age of eight. Sure I’d take an egg and a small piece of toast, but the remainder of that 10-inch plate was devoted solely to those piping hot slightly crunchy potatoes and the biggest squirt of Heinz 57 my kid muscles could muster. Recently, I texted my dad to finally, after all these years, ask what he put in his breakfast potatoes. (By the way, it still makes me giggle to think of him texting.)

His response?

“I dono.”

After our bodies worked through the haze of early morning overeating, dad would move on to lunch. Lunches were varied, but one of my favorites were the tuna melts he’d make on cold days, rainy days, or days that otherwise demanded a comforting hot melty sandwich. After the recent potato-text heartbreak, I didn’t bother asking dad what he put in those tuna melts. Rather, I choose to focus solely on the memory: jumbo kaiser rolls loaded with mayonnaise-laden tuna, hunks of fresh cheddar cheese, and chopped up dill pickles. He’d wrap those giant sandwiches in foil and toss them right into the oven—no cookie sheet needed (which I remember wordlessly opposing). After a half hour or so, he’d reach into the oven with a giant pot holder. We’d line up, plates held tightly in our little hands, and dad would plop a massive foil pack on each one.

« Previous 1 2 3 4 … 8 Next »