Sick day

Today was a sick day, a sofa day, a wasted day. A proud of myself for mustering the strength to bathe (bonus for the face mask) day. A Neocitran morning, followed by a groggy afternoon. Too many movies  -- Fargo, then Under The Skin, then When Harry Met Sally. So much ache in the head and congestion of the face.

You get the idea.

My appetite is momentarily zilch, but that hasn't stopped me from fantasizing about this cookie from Maman bakery. Someone book me a ticket to New York... as soon as standing upright doesn't induce wobbly muscles and flop sweat. (Oh yes, I AM beacon of sex appeal and sweat pants, thanks for asking.)

Photo right-click-saved from New York Magazine (link above).

Hunger pangs

Came across a recipe for Donut Ice Cream Sandwiches (my keen trans-fat-tracking eyes positively ID-ed those bad boys as Krispy Kreme) and promptly declared GAME OVER. I won't rest until such a dessert is resting in my (puffy, borderline lactose intolerant-y) belly.

I'm thinkin'... honey glazed + Cherry Garcia.
I'm thinkin'... chocolate + Mint Chocolate Chip.
I'm thinkin'... Boston cream + cookie dough (sweet Jesus).

Hold onto your hats and your guts because STEF. MUST. TRY.

Image c/o.

Restaurant Things (Consumed Since Friday)

Friday 8:00PM -- Bombay Mahal (1001 Jean Talon Ouest)

- Samosa (because obviously)

- Veggie Thali conmprised of an ochre thing, a lentil thing, a carrot thing (note to self: get the gaddang names of the dishes, you lazy turkey) cooked a wonderful butter chicken-esque sauce, garden salad, and rice AND naan (!)

Me and the man have wanted to try Bombay Mahal for a long while. (Full disclosure: Josh had already been, but I hadn't, so I'll pretend we lost our BM flowers together.) However, Jean Talon/Acadie area is FAR when your chauffeur is a bus driver who doesn't care how inconvenient your "closest" stop is from the restaurant. But hurrah! Jdog recently acquired a car of his very own (way to go, you!) and I've been lucky enough to ride shotgun all over the place. (He even picked me up in TMR way early Saturday morning, after I was stood up for training at a children's art studio.) ANYWAY! Where was I? Food, I think. Wait, car -- yes, we had car access, and that car took us to a teeny tiny jam-packed byow (sadly we didn't know & weren't packing). Bombay Mahal is known for serving up the best Indian food in Montreal, so I should admit that my expectations were pretty high. The food was dang good! Favorite in the city? Honestly, it didn't quite edge out my number one (who said Bombay Choupati?), but it's possible that resto unfairly hogs the top spot for sentimental reasons (though I'm skeptical -- their butter chicken thali is crazy delicious). All in all, I think we both were pleased.

Wouldya look at this Slick Rick! :)

Saturday 9:00PM -- Bishop & Bagg (52 St. Viateur Ouest)

- A jerk chicken + jalapeno macaroni and cheese + cole slaw monstrosity
- Beer and more beer

Saturday, I inadvertently crashed a Boys Night. (You know the deal... all the other Significant Others bail & suddenly you're the odd wo/man out. Surely that's happened to other kids, too.) There was beer and hockey and general pub-yness, though nary a mention of boobies or bodily functions because they're gentlemen. Ordering dinner came more out of necessity than any strong desire to eat (overpriced, over-trended) bar food. But eat I did, and it tasted more than fine, so let's call it a win!

Sunday 1:00PM -- Pâtisserie Rhubarb (5091 de Lanaudière)

Fracken everything...
- Pumpkin & cheese focaccia with cream cheese
- "Continental Breakfast" (egg with soldiers, whipped yogurt with granola, vanilla apple sauce, and the yummiest/most buttery ham & cheese muffin thing)
- Crunchy caramel apple pastry thing

Love it or hate it or think it's stupid, BRUNCH HAPPENS SOMETIMES. And if you're gonna brunch, Rhubarb is the place to (over) do it. During the week, Rhubarb is a dainty little café slash pastry shop. Come weekend, they also serve this crazy-ass table d'hôte breakfast made of dreams (and butter, so much butter). Because the food looks so small and pretty, you don't think there's any way to leave full -- wrong. I made that rookie mistake on Sunday. Crammed every dish into my face thinking Imma need McDonald's after this. But by the time dessert rolled around (they just GIVE YOU FANCY DESSERT you guys!!), my stomach was stuffed and fighting hard against the extra grub. (I ate it anyway.)

Truthsicle: Sure, you get tons of tasty things for a fair price. Very cool. Even better, though, is the very scrumptiousness of the food. Great ingredients, interesting combinations, all delicately put together. Every dish is a pretty little present!

Holy crap, right?

Monday 3:30PM -- GaNaDaRa (1862 de Maissoneuve Ouest)

- Veggie bibimbap with tofu (yes, I'm that person)

GaNaDaRa (is the capitalization really necessary?) is straight up packed every time I pass by. So, color me thrilled when I passed its door yesterday afternoon and there wasn't a line! There were empty tables! I zipped right in. The bibimbap was pretty tasty, probably could've benefitted from more seasoning and/or meat. (The only other time I was there, I ordered the chicken katsu and it was off the hook tasty.) No photos of food this time, mostly because I was busy eavesdropping on the table of teenagers beside me. Drama was going DOWN.

Soooo that's that, folks. A certifiable food diary & testament to my deep-set aversion to cooking. The great news? You can eat at any of these places for under twenty bucks. Bon appétit!

Color Full

Wouldya get a load of these colors? The early afternoon was positively bursting with 'em! That is... until some rude, angry clouds came along and started spitting all over the place.

Top: Atwater market. So many future jack-o-lanterns (also, if you're my mom, thanksgiving table decor).

Middle: Yknow, some flowers.

Bottom: Stained glass at Charlevoix metro. Who knew a place that smells so strongly of urine could look so pretty.

Bonus round!...

Because after a girl meets her boyfriend across town for lunch, if said girl had zero willpower re: desserts (but mostly just frosting), then there will be cupcakes on the way home. I want to apologize so bad for being that person, sitting in a cupcake shop, taking a picture of her stupid order, but I'm not gonna say sorry. Even though I'm rolling my eyes at myself, I should also just embrace the fact that this photo happened and then the cake did and it was fucking delicious. You should go have one, too!

'Round these parts

Oh hey! Let me tell you what's been shaking around here. (The answer is basically "not much," so don't brace yourself or anything.)

The weather's been sunny in all places except my perma-shady backyard. Since I'm trying to adhere to a "budget" (lawl), I'm occupying myself with free things. Like reading in parks and, by extension, trying to look as normal & non-creepy as possible. Pretty easy when you're a visibly non-threatening chick wearing glasses and zero makeup and you're buried a fucking book. But still, there's a concern.

Behold the home office, outdoor edition. (See! It's shady-ass shadesville back there. Welcome to my life. Huge, dark backyard, all the time.) Yes, I am on leave, and yes, that's an agenda and a notebook. This girl ain't taking the chômage lifestyle lightly. I'm a busy, modern woman! OK, so the agenda is filled with gym times and dinner dates, whatever. If only you all lived in a fantasy world as vivid (and star-studded! Hello there, Jake Gyllenhaal!) as mine.

Martha fucking Stewart is in the houuuuse. You're looking at homemade, from-scratch, only very slightly burnt blueberry pancakes. And yes, this is my idea of a healthy & balanced breakfast. Baby steps, people.

These days, I'm reading Women in Clothes. Shit is DENSE with all things ladylike and clothing related. (Has it gotten repetitive and sometimes self-back-patting? Sure. Do I continue to find interesting, insightful thoughts? Yes, every couple of pages.) This little snapshot from Lena Dunham's contribution is a standout. It speaks to me for obvious, obvious reasons.

I guess that sums up the personal part of today's blogginess. Maybe I'll come back later to write about hats or shoes or something. Oh, movies! Been meaning to drum up the list of upcoming movies I'm oh so eager to watch. Maybe today's the day? (Unlikely. But hey, anything's possible.) Xx

In the kitchen

Channeling a holiday spirit that still feels new to me, I willingly forfeited an afternoon of...

(yeah, that's some sun-drenched backyard reading, set to the tune of squirrels viciously attacking each other in the bushes)

for this...

I baked those! Myself! From scratch! Them there are apple honey cupcakes. I've already eaten four (for science obviously) and can attest to their deliciousness. And to how fattening they are. These babies are deceptively terrible for you! Sure, you see sliced apples and think holy hell this is 100% nutritious (as I did), when in reality... well... fuck it, I'm not saying how much sugar went into this recipe. (Three different kinds!!)

And now, to bring them to Josh's parents' house for dinner. I'm already envisioning my sorry attempt to transport 26 cupcakes across town via public transportation & laughing at future me. She's such a mess sometimes. Wish me luck!

18 // Pav Bhaji?

I was on the bus, scrolling through my iPhone and generally avoiding real-life human interaction, when New York Magazine offered up an article entitled, "Meet the Pav Bahji -- the Indian Sandwich That Should Be Sold Everywhere."

Blame my then-roaring post-work appetite, but, 

"...delicious mashed potato sandwich on bread..."

was just about the sexiest phrase I'd ever read (and that's counting the two-ish pages of 50 Shades of Grey that have made it into my life's bibliography).

Mashed. Potato. Sandwich.

Please.

I'm already a pro at stuffing my face full of Indian food. Who isn't? Especially dishes of the fried and/or bathed in cream sauce variety. And the bread, ohhh the bread. Some (normal) (health-conscious) (horrible) people limit themselves to one starch per meal. I believe in trying them all -- rice, naan, that cracker-y thing with the seeds -- on the same plate, layered under the Butter Chickens and Chana Masalas and you get the idea.

Anyway. The point? Oh yeah. I want to eat this sandwich. It's also described as an Indian Sloppy Joe, so clearly my hopes are way way up on it being fucking delicious. 

Preliminary Google tests reveal exactly zero restaurants serving Pan Bahji in Montreal. Better get poison control ready -- it looks like mama's gonna start tearing up the kitchen.

But not tonight. Tonight, Josh made pesto meat load and zucchini fritters for dinner, because sometimes I'm spoiled like that.

(Photo via http://www.flavorsofmumbai.com/mumbai-pav-bhaji-recipe)

(Article via http://www.grubstreet.com/2014/09/pav-bhaji-baluchis-fresh.html)

08 // Sunday

Sunday is usually a bittersweet day for me. (Unless it's followed by a Monday off, in which case, it's my favorite day.) In my experience, the best way to postpone (if not entirely avoid) the Sunday Blues (TM) is to have a chock-filled day of go-with-the-flow fun. And, obviously, always pretend it's still Saturday.

Step 1: Santa Barbara for brunch. 

Josh's mystical ways lead us to this new (to us) restaurant near Beaubien metro. I think the cuisine is Spanish, but what do I really know, I ordered the apple/cheddar crepe. It was mucho tasty.

Truly, Santa Barbara is a delightful spot. Definitely worth the small trek, especially if you're from the city and weary of your regular chopping grounds. I wish I would've taken some pics. The back wall is painted fluo mint, as are the religious statues affixed to it. Josh and I are already wondering when we'll go back. During the week, they're open for dinner. Maybe then.

Step 2: Jean Talon market to shop for veggies (the kind you plant and the kind that's already food).

To eat tonight: cherries, strawberries, rainbow-looking carrots, and the most fragile-looking asparagus I've ever seen.

To put in the dirt: eggplant, "climbing" spinach, lettuce, chives, and a Mexican herb whose name I've forgotten but tastes like lime.

Step 3: Plant the to-be-planted veggies.

Those are the faces of tired, a tinge sweaty, and very satisfied kiddos. We're gardners! Er, junior gardners. Amateur gardners?

Step 4: Various other activities, like grocery shopping and an iced tea run.

I'm curious about other people's weekend rituals. Does everyone dread Sunday bedtime? Is the weekend a call to carry out chores? Call me immature, or fortunate, or both, but I love being schedule-free until Monday morning. It makes me feel good, better, at ease.