So Many Colorful Meals From One Farmers Market Outing

July 2, 2018

Check this out: Purple string beans!

Oh man, I love oddly-colored vegetables, so when I saw these at the farmer’s market, I was all in. I bought some purple ones, along with regular ol’ green beans and yellow beans, and steamed them for a meal last week.

And then tragedy struck. Read the rest of this entry »

Brussels Sprouts with Carrots and Raisins

April 30, 2015

I recently had a wonderful meal at a restaurant, including a great side dish of Brussels sprouts with grapes. It was delicious. I wanted to recreate that dish at home the other day, but I was fresh out of grapes. I did have raisins, though, and those were grapes at one point, so… close enough. I came up with this recipe for Brussels Sprouts with Carrots and Raisins, and here’s how I made it. What do you think it began with? Brussels sprouts!


These little green beauts came from Read the rest of this entry »

My New Roommate, Part IV

September 24, 2012

That’s right, I’m bringing Roman numerals back to the blogosphere.

I take having roommates very seriously. My family and friends are welcome to stay with me whenever they want, but houseguests are one thing, and roommates are a completely different matter. I’ve been lucky in that I’ve never had any horrible roommate situations, but now I’m at a point in my life where I prefer living alone. I don’t want a roommate, I don’t need a roommate.

But there are always exceptions. And that brings us back to the Roman numerals.

Read the rest of this entry »


May 24, 2012

I didn’t eat my first chestnut until I was in my thirties. Is that shocking? I really have no idea. Some people enjoy chestnuts every Christmas – roasted over an open fire, as the recipe/carol says – but we didn’t do that in my family. I grew up having no concept of what a chestnut was, and thought, for a long time, that it was an old-timey, out-dated, possibly fictional seasonal food item, much like ‘figgy pudding’ and ‘sugar plums’ (neither of which I’ve seen in real life).

For the past two Thanksgivings, when my family has congregated for turkey and football at my sister Sarah’s house in Colorado (where I’m going this weekend for the big race), we’ve gone to a local shopping center so Sarah’s kids can see Santa arrive. It’s a big to-do: they have actual real-life reindeer in a pen, carolers, and local restaurants passing out food. Either last year or two years ago, I saw a guy with a contraption that looked like a bingo ball tumbler set on fire. Turns out he was roasting chestnuts. I tried my first chestnut. I remember it being outrageously hot and burning my mouth – and not much else.

So I don’t know exactly what came over me, but about a month ago I came home from the store with this:

Read the rest of this entry »

Crime Scene

December 10, 2011

Disclaimer: This post is not for the faint or weak of heart. It contains images that some may find disturbing, and it is suggested that children, pregnant women, and those with a tendency to barf stop reading now. You’ve been warned.

My kitchen was the scene of a heinous, vicious, violent crime. It’s currently sectioned off from the rest of my home with yellow caution tape, and various law enforcement types are walking around, touching my things with their gloved hands, lifting fingerprints off of my various household items. They gathered around this, murmuring and shaking their heads, and photographed it from all angles:

I’ll tell you what I told them: it’s just ketchup. From an unrelated incident.

One detective told me that they wouldn’t be leaving until they’ve gathered all the evidence and completed their investigation, and that really irks me, because there’s no need for an investigation. I already confessed. Take me downtown and put me in a cold gray room with a singular light bulb swinging from the ceiling, and I’ll confess again. Send in your tough, ruggedly handsome, internally-conflicted, doesn’t-play-by-the-rules new guy, and I’ll confess to him. Send in Kyra Sedgwick, Mariska Hargitay, Cagney and/or Lacey, and I’ll confess to them (and compliment their hair).

I am a murderer.

Look at that, I just confessed again! I killed my roommate. It wasn’t an crime of passion or a freak accident. It was a premeditated, carefully orchestrated, masterfully executed event. It’s not the first time I’ve killed my roommate, and it may not be the last. Here’s a picture of my roommate from a few days ago:

If you saw my post from last week, you’ll know that it was the worst roommate a guy could ever have. It was rude and inconsiderate, with a penchant for phone sex that was downright disgusting. I even announced my plans for murder at the end of that post!

Despite my confession and the fact that I declared my murderous intentions days ago, the coppers are still wandering in their trench coats, hunched over their tiny notebooks, putting together their case. I didn’t clean up after myself, so the evidence is abundant:

EXHIBIT A – Bits of my former roommate, including an appendage, on the floor:

EXHIBIT B – More pieces of my roommate, scattered across a cutting board:

EXHIBIT C – A dirty non-stick skillet, still warm t0 the touch, complete with charred roommate bits:

EXHIBIT D – The murder weapon!

(Remember that aforementioned unrelated ketchup incident? Some ketchup got on the knife, too.)

Of course, I can’t be charged with murder if there’s no proof of a death, and I didn’t have time (or the interest) to bury my roommate’s body in the woods or tie it to a brick and toss it off a pier. The corpse was out, in plain sight.

If you’re squeamish but somehow made it this far, I suggest you close your browser, because this is where it gets gross.

I’m not above showing a photograph of my maimed, dismembered, mutilated, defaced, disfigured roommate. Take a deep breath, summon your courage, and take a look:

Haunting, isn’t it? It’s not the sort of image that you can easily erase from your head.

So why did I do it? It’s a question that the detectives have been asking me over and over and over and over again, and I’m getting tired of answering it. But you, dear readers, you deserve to know. My murderous rampage can be attributed to two things:

  1. Revenge. I was sick and tired of my roommate being a jerkface and taking advantage of my generousity.
  2. I wanted a healthy lunch.

There’s two photographs that I have yet to share with the police officers. They saw my roommate’s barren stalk, but not where the rest of it ended up. They know I used that skillet for something, and they must be pretty crappy detectives, because they haven’t yet asked what was in that skillet.

First, I slicked it down with some nonfat cooking spray. Then I added 1/2 an onion, thinly sliced, and 3 minced cloves of garlic. Then, I added my roommate’s delicious sprouts, halved. I sauteed them on medium-high heat (so they got a little color) until they were tender all the way through (6-8 minutes), and about a minute before they were finished, I hit them with about a 1/4 cup of nonfat balsamic vinaigrette.

If you happened to think my roommate looked appealing before, take a look at what it looked like after!

My roommate was even more delicious than he looks. And I’m not afraid to tell that to a judge.

Keep it up, David!

Another New Roommate

December 5, 2011

Why is it so easy for me to open my door and welcome new roommates into my home, time and time again? A few days ago, at the store, I saw a pile of brussel sprouts stalks, and, for the third time, I picked one up in my arms, and brought it home with me like it was a stray puppy, and now it’s living with me.

These brussel sprouts stalk roommate living situations never end well for the brussel sprouts stalk, as eventually I will dismember them, chop them up, and eat them, but there’s always hope that, for a few days, we’ll be the bestest of friends and inseparable companions. My first brussel sprouts stalk roommate contributed mightily around the house – with cleaning and organizing – before meeting the entirety of my digestive track. That stalk set a high bar that my next brussel sprouts stalk roommate didn’t even try to match – it preferred stealing my clothes and crushing my spirit to helping with housework.

I wasn’t completely soured to the idea of having another brussel sprouts stalk roommate, though, and that’s why I brought a third one home with me the other day. In the check-out line, I thought about how wonderful it would be if this stalk was more similar to my first stalk roommate than my second, but by the time I got home I knew that would not be the case. My new brussel sprouts stalk roommate spent the entire drive home escaping from the bag and rolling around my trunk. My new pineapple got free, too, and I’m not completely certain that wasn’t the brussel sprouts stalk’s doing.

Ready for your introduction? Readers, meet my new roommate. New roommate, meet my readers:

And a close-up:

Turns out the friskiness in the trunk was just the beginning. This brussel sprouts stalk is the most uncontrollable of them all, and it’s wearing me out. Every time I turn around, it’s up to no good.

So far, it’s racked up monster phone-sex charges on my landline:

It keeps wasting my toilet paper dressing up like a mummy and trying to scare me:

(For the record, it only succeeded in scaring me three times.)

Worst of all, it climbs into my bed and eats crackers, getting crumbs EVERYWHERE!

I don’t even know where it got those Cheez-Its!

Right now, I’m biding my time, smiling at my roommate and trying to be pleasant while I put up with all these shenanigans. I’d much rather clean up a few cracker crumbs than get maimed and devoured, which will happen to my dear roommate, and soon. Whenever it’s out of the room, I’m flipping through cookbooks and searching the interwebs for healthy, interesting ways to eat my new roommate. Its days are numbered. Watch your back, roommate!

Keep it up, David!

My Old Roommate is BAAAAAACK!

October 25, 2011

I’ll start with a few quickie updates:

1) Guest Post. I wrote a guest post for my friend Kenlie at All The Weigh that she published today. Click here to see the post, which is my recipe for healthy crab and shrimp cakes. Then, stay and poke around Kenlie’s site – she’s a great writer and has lost a ton of weight, and I have a hunch you might find her inspiring.

2) Burpees. Last week, I committed myself to completing Your Inner Skinny’s No Excuses 30-Day Burpee Challenge. I started with 15 burpees the first day, and will add 1 additional burpee each day for a month. Burpees are terrible. They’re a hellish combination of push-ups and vertical jumps, and I hate them, which is why I’m doing the challenge – to push myself at something I normally wouldn’t do. Tuesday marks Day 9 of the Challenge – I’m almost one-third of the way done! – and later today I’ll be doing 23 burpees. That means I’ve already completed 8 days of burpees, which add up to a total of 148 burpees! Here’s what really freaks me out: by the time this challenge is all over, I’ll have completed an astounding 930 burpees. HOLY SHIT! (Pardon my french.)

OKAY – with the updates out of the way, let’s move on… I’m back on a brussel sprouts kick. It had been a long time since I had eaten brussel sprouts, but when I made the dijon brussel sprouts not too long ago, I remembered how much I love them. So, some sauteed brussel sprouts (with a balsamic dressing glaze) will be part of my lunch today, and I also have a new roommate.

I had a roommate around this time last fall – it was a delightful brussel sprouts stalk. It was the first time I’d ever seen a brussel sprouts stalk in person, and I fell in love instantly at the store, and brought one home to live with me. The stalk proved to be a valuable addition to my household (it sorted coupons and helped with the laundry), even though the living arrangement didn’t last long, as the brussel sprouts ultimately ended up in my stomach.

A few days ago, I saw brussel sprout stalks at the store, and fell in love all over again. Time to bring another one home! Look, my new roommate:

I don’t know why I think these are one of the coolest things in the world, but I do!

Turns out this brussel sprout stalk couldn’t be more different than its predecessor. Whereas my first brussel sprout stalk roommate was helpful and considerate, this one is a big pain in the ass. It borrows my shoes without asking…

…is always pestering me to go swimming….

…and beats me at Scrabble every single time!

My patience is already wearing thin for this brussel sprout stalk. Methinks it might meet its destiny (in my digestive tract) sooner rather than later!

Before I go, I just wanna give a heads up: Tomorrow, I’m going to weigh myself for the first time in three weeks. I moved my scale from the bathroom floor to the top shelf of my closet after my last weigh-in, as I was beginning to obsess over numbers, but now I’m really antsy to see what how I’ve been doing. At the last weigh-in, I was still up 1 pound from my all-time low, and during these three weeks, I’ve been eating well and exercising, so I’m hoping that pound will be gone, and possibly another pound on top of it. I’ll share the news in my next post.

Keep it up, David!