Low Carb Oatmeal Cookies. Or: How I Learned to Stop Slacking and Love the Fat

It’s been a really rough ride these past few months.

First, I fried my laptop. In a computer science class, of all places. It was working just fine, then I went into class, tried to boot it up and…nothing. Except for an awful sound coming from the fan. It had been overheating in recent months (like, the past year) and I figured it was on its last leg…but couldn’t it have waited until AFTER I was done with a class that I actually needed it for recitation?

My health has been meh lately too. I’ve been completely worn out, dizzy and unable to function – and no one can figure out why. My thyroid has been fully checked twice, I got the most half-assed adrenal check ever and a “mostly normal” brain MRI that landed me in a neurologist’s office. The “minorly abnormal” part happened to be nothing more than some serious sinus congestion, odd considering I haven’t been stuffy, but a report was forwarded from the neurologist to the immunolgoist to see what he wants done about it. Since it’s been two weeks and I haven’t heard back, I’m going to assume that he just doesn’t care. Which, given the vibe I got from him, wouldn’t surprise me in the slightest. CVID is such a boring disease, after all. A second MRI was done with contrast and at least from a brain standpoint it looked normal, but if those sinuses are still clogged methinks I may be headed toward a sinus surgery. Good thing I have an appointment scheduled with an ENT next month and she can access the MRIs herself. We’ll discuss it then.

Then there was the binge I went on a couple of nights ago. We’ll start this story talking about the discovery I made yesterday that with my whole-foods low-carb everything-from-scratch diet I don’t get anywhere NEAR the daily recommended 2300 mg of sodium for women. Even when eating a tuna casserole made with homemade alfredo (AKA sodium city) I still was at 1800 mg by the end of the night and had to eat some cheese to get myself up. Now that we’ve covered that, Tuesday I was craving pretzels. BAD. So, I ate them. A TON of them. Which included me shooting up (blindly, might I add) 8 units via syringe with the intent of eating half the bag. What happened was a blood glucose roller coaster that I have no intentions of ever repeating again. I started at 319 mg/dL (a result of my previous pretzel binge – which was adaquately covered by insulin, BTW). An hour later, I found myself at a delicious 32 mg/dL – and by my estimation, a good 10 units of active insulin. A 20-oz bottle of cherry Coke and half a bag of pretzels later and I was at a whopping 72 mg/dL. Which became 519 mg/dL by 3 in the morning.

Thankfully I was able to get it down and woke up at 82 mg/dL in the morning. But I awoke with a new mission to get things under control. My neurologist had dropped the words “autonomic neuropathy” at my last appointment and had suggested getting a blood pressure cuff and keep an eye on that as well. After Googling “autonomic neuropathy,” I thought it would be a good idea to monitor EV-UH-RY-THING. So, I have a notebook monitoring EV-UH-RY-THING…and that was how I discovered that I don’t eat anywhere NEAR enough sodium. I also noticed that I feel dehydrated ALL the time despite drinking very close to a gallon of fluids a day. A result of the lack of sodium? Perhaps. Further investigation is required…the four words in a journal article that translate to “we’re putting off doing the research so that we can have another publication. Because publications = grants.”

Which brings me to the reason I actually plopped myself on the desktop despite the toddler I have walking around dumping my pencil case all over the living room floor…

Another thing I have been craving lots of have been sweets, and in particular my mother’s oatmeal cookies. But I really had yet to find a recipe that I felt could even come close to matching the deliciousness of them. They’re moist, tasty, not too sweet and all-in-all absolute perfection. And then I came across this recipe from Low Carb Yum. These cookies, friends, are a game-changer. They taste just like your carb-laden chocolate chip cookie and you need to go make them. Now. However, when I say they taste just like a carb-laden cookie that means I found them a little TOO sweet and I found the erythritol a little strong in it. Knowing that the erythritol was a major component in the cookie dough being actual dough and not a puddle of nut butter, I thought about what I could add that would give them the structure they need while cutting back on the erythritol? The answer: shredded coconut.

Shredded coconut has become the darling of the low-carb cookie world. It makes for a wonderful substitution for oats in baking as the texture is pretty similar with only mildly noticeable coconut flavour. You can find dozens of low-carb fauxtemal cookie recipes using unsweetened shredded coconut. But even with my tweaks, I couldn’t get any of them to taste like Mama’s.

Until now.

No, this is not generally a food blog but I’ve been spending a lot of time in the kitchen and have note cards up the wazoo with my creations that I think I am going to share. Because I’m excited about them. Get excited with me. At 1.18g net carbs per decent-sized cookie you should get excited. And without further ado, the low carb oatmeal recipe you have been waiting for, inspired by Lisa at Low Carb Yum.

Low Carb Oatmeal Cookies

Makes: 24 cookies

Per cookie:
Fat: 7g
Sodium: 31mg
Total Carbs: 2.12g
Total Fibre: 0.94g
Net Carbs: 1.18g

Ingredients

1 C Walnut halves and pieces
2/3 C Pecan halves
1/2 C Cashew halves and pieces
1/2 C Erythritol
1/4 tsp Liquid stevia drops (it’s roughly about 15ish drops, to taste)
1 Large egg
1/2 tsp Baking powder
1/4 tsp Salt
1 tsp Pure vanilla extract
1 tsp Pure almond extract
1/2 C Unsweetened shredded coconut

Destructions

  1. Preheat oven to 350ºF. Line baking sheet with parchment paper.
  2. Place the walnuts, pecans and cashews in the bowl of a food processor and process until nut butter is formed. It will first get grainy, then clump together, then it will become a smooth nut butter.
  3. Stop the food processor for a second and add the erythritol and liquid stevia. Pulse until combined.
  4. Add egg, baking powder, salt, vanilla and almond to processor and pulse until combined.
  5. By now it should look like a runny cookie dough. Remove processor blade and add coconut. Alternatively, you can transfer the dough to a bowl and add coconut. I just hate dishes.
  6. Roll into balls about 1″ in diameter. Place on cookie sheet and press gently to flatten.
  7. Bake in oven for 12-15 minutes or until golden around edges.
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The Smartass’ Guide to Handling the Food Police

So, I participated in my first Diabetic Connect Diabetes Education chat tonite, and it was a lot of fun. I always like to meet new people online (because we all know I have super social anxiety in real life, eek!) and the group was a kick. Tonite’s topic of discussion was handling eating during the holidays, and someone mentioned the thing that is always on the Top 10 Biggest Annoyances list for any diabetic: the food police.

You know who I’m talking about, those people who watch over your shoulder, asking if you can eat that roll, telling you to put down the pie and generally just being worse than your mother was 6 days after coming home from the hospital.

Every diabetic has come across at least on in their life.

Diabetic Connect has a very good list of ways to handle the food police, and they are most certainly very good and should be given a look by anyone who has ever found themselves in a position where people are questioning their culinary choices. But since I’m a snarky smartass, I really can’t see myself implementing them after the first round of being asked “doesn’t that have sugar?” six times is over.

You were warned

You were warned

So, in that vein, I now give you

THE SMARTASS’ GUIDE TO HANDLING THE FOOD POLICE

Snarky Responses to “You Can’t Eat That.”

1. Really? I thought I was the one going to college.

2. That’s cool, because you really shouldn’t be talking with your mouth full.

3. I think this pie would look way better on my ass than on yours.

4. That’s too bad, because these mashed potatoes are so lonely, they need a friend. Like the turkey I just ate.

5. For one day, my body can handle it. You, however, will always be ugly no matter what you eat.

6. Several peer-reviewed articles in Diabetes Care seem to disagree with you.

7. Good thing your insurance premiums/tax dollars are paying for my insulin pump.

8. Blame Obama.

9. I’m a piranha. They in the Amazon.

10. Silly me, I forgot you are an expert on diabetes care! Please, what can I eat?

11. Hold on, let me grab my towel and consult the Hitchhiker’s Guide.

12. You’re fired.

13. Taking a break from bothering your spouse/significant other/parent I see. How about you take a break from bothering me, too.

14. I need you to go outside and double-check that the dairy elves haven’t smeared the metal posts outside with ice cream again. It’s impossible to get off and I don’t want to spend the money replacing them again. The only way to do it is to preform a taste test. (Works best in cold climates).

15. Your ever-widening ass shows that you have no business giving me dietary advice.

What would be on your Smartass’ Guide to Handling the Food Police?

Low Carb South Park

I. Love. South Park.

I know, it’s a polarising show – you either love it or you think it’s stupid and vulgar. I am in the first camp (as I’m sure you can tell), simply due to the fact that they tackle some pretty serious issues in that stupid and vulgar manner that makes you really look at the issues in a completely different light – which oftentimes is quite necessary.

So I finally got around to watching the episode that aired the Wednesday before last, Gluten Free Ebola. I will admit that, as a low carb eating person, for the first time in my life I went into the episode somewhat cautious. But knowing that for the past what, 18 years, South Park’s MO has been “look at it one way and then another,” I kept going.

The male genitalia flying off did make me laugh way more than it should have.

In the end, Cartman has a dream where Aunt Jemima tells him that the pyramid is upside down. He calls up the USDA to tell them, and then they come up with this:

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Well it’s about damn time!

Now THAT is the pyramid how I see it. We’ll ignore the fact that it never was a pyramid to begin with but a triangle for a moment, and focus on the fact that even Trey Parker and Matt Stone know what’s up.

Fat is not bad, people!

Well, let me modify that to say that not all fat is bad. Trans fats, they’re still bad. Refined fats, still bad. Now, the ending scenes where people are eating steak with a stick of butter are a gross overexaggeration, but that’s South Park for you (although I will take this moment to say that steak is in fact quite tasty with butter on it – just not a whole quarter pound of the stuff). I also find it quite coincidental that the butter-and-steak party was thrown for the kid with diabetes. Sort of.

The point I’m trying to get at in my incoherent rambling is that it’s about damn time that low carb/high fat got a good show in the mainstream media. Studies are starting to come out that all those carbohydrates are bad, and that’s good too. I am the kind of person who does not think that there is a one-size-fits-all diet plan, but I do wholeheartedly agree that the “you must have a serving of complex carbohydrates at every meal!” mentality needs to go. I shudder when I recall what I was initially taught by my dietician as a child – I had to chose one starch, two for supper, and record them in what I will admit was a handy worksheet that made it easy. If I didn’t make choices from every recommended group, I got a proverbial finger shaken at me.

I eat a very balanced diet while on low carb. I still make things like biscuits and bread and cakes and cookies, just they’re all without grains and low on the carbohydrates. I can still have all the tasty and delicious sweet things, and I do still bake up a storm. I eat a ton of vegetables, and contrary to popular belief I do not make an entire meal out of bacon (I love bacon more than most people, but not that much). Almost everything I eat is handmade, there are very little processed foods, and I spend WAY less money on food now that I don’t get a burger and fries all the time and I never order a pizza anymore. I also weigh less than I did in high school and once again I now have to go buy more jeans because they all fall off my ass.

I also need a new belt because I destroyed the only one I own yesterday.

Anyway, I high five Trey and Matt for their bringing this to the minds of those who would likely not even think about it. South Park is the in-your-face voice that LCHF needs to get through to the younger crowd. Put down that multigrain muffin sugar-filled monstrosity (because muffins are nothing more than cake for breakfast) and eat a low carb, no sugar version. It tastes better, and is better for you too.

I have also decided that the ultimate way to know you’ve arrived is for South Park to make fun of you. I have switched my life goal to be from winning the Nobel Prize to having South Park poke fun at me. Or maybe I could have South Park poke fun at me FOR winning the Nobel Prize. Hmm…

And as a side note, I’ve been super craving potato chips lately. I think imma try deep frying radishes and see how that turns out…

Dear Diabetes, I Quit

You can quit a job for any reason. You can quit school once you get past the state’s legal dropout age. You can end a relationship very easily and you can run away from home.

What you can’t do, however, is quit a medical condition. 

Today, however, I sure did try.

I like to keep a low-carb diet. It helps me keep my blood sugars in much better line. I’m not necessarily ketogenic since my main goal is to just keep stable levels and there are some non-keto things that don’t raise my blood sugars so I don’t worry about them (coconut palm sugar is one thing that comes to mind – it’s not on the keto list, but since I don’t need insulin to handle it I don’t give a shit). I’ve lost quite a bit of weight since having Baby Imp while on a low-carb diet, and I have actually grown to prefer the dishes that I’ve been making.

The thing about low-carbing is that it’s a lot of work. I make EVERYTHING from scratch – hell, I even make my own crackers. It isn’t exactly a diet for convenience. It takes a lot of preparation, thinking, planning, grocery shopping and a lot of time in front of a stove. Supper tends to be just a meat and some kind of vegetable because by the time 6 o’clock rolls around I’m running low on spoons and throwing something on the grill and slicing up some cucumber is easy. 

I’ve had one hell of a time the last three weeks. I’ve moved, set up a house, started at a new school and new job and got acclimated to a new schedule. I’ve also been through the living hell of going through the motions of getting a whole new set of prior authorisations for medication and doctors. I’ve been living with the constant worry whenever someone near me in class coughs or sneezes. I’ve been dealing with yet another a fungal infection on my leg and increasing chest congestion due to not having my immunoglobulin for two weeks (BIG NEWS SIDE NOTE got a month of Hizentra approved by the insurance, but they don’t like the specialty pharmacy chosen by my immunologist and they’re still missing some paperwork so this month is to get me through until they get all of the paperwork they need in order. Supplies are getting shipped tomorrow since the approval came around 4:30, will have them by Thursday morning).

Life is exhausting.

As time goes on, I have less and less energy. And today I finally had enough.

This afternoon, I quit diabetes.

And I didn’t leave a two-week notice either. I just up and walked out the door, flipping the bird over both my shoulders as I exited. I turned around in the doorway and disco danced to “Na Na Hey Hey Kiss Him Goodbye” for good measure. Then I shouted that he was an awful lover, because no quitting scene is complete without a dissolved office romance.

Freshly alive with my newfound freedom, I ran straight into the arms of my secret lover: Hardee’s. He enveloped me with the scent of his curly fry cologne and caressed me with sweet words of encouragement. “It will be all right,” he whispered in my ear as the bag was passed through the window.

So I went home with my carbohydrate bomb, the ease of simply ordering lunch giving me the energy to go on. And I sat down. And ate.

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I even ate the cookie.

But, alas, despite my officially divorcing myself from diabetes, some of it still stuck around. Like I still went for the pump when eating. Because it’s only second nature.

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That’s about four times my average daily carbohydrate count…

And I found myself running into a problem.

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You shall not pass.

I purposely set my max bolus to 5 units because Baby Imp likes to grab at the pump, and it’s to prevent me getting an insane amount of insulin. I rarely take any more than 2 units in a sitting (and that’s only when my blood sugars end up high for some reason) so I never see that screen. Until today. I felt like a bit of a rebel, taking more insulin than I normally do. It was freeing, like the first time you go out on a date after leaving an awful boyfriend.

Soon the pump was shouting at me again, and instead of my usual “hey, I should take care of that…” response, it was more along the lines of “pfft, whatevs.” Because I quit diabetes today. 

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Nope, don’t care.

I ate everything. The burger, the bun it came on, the fries, I even finished the cookie even though it was highly disappointing.

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C is for cookie, that’s good enough for me.

138 grams of carbohydrates later and 8 and a half fattening units of insulin later, and I felt fine. Wonderful. Disappointingly wonderful. When you quit diabetes, you’re supposed to feel awful. You’re supposed to need to pee all the time, feel lethargic, and be reminded that quitting diabetes was a bad idea.

Although admittedly, I didn’t really quit diabetes. Like a codependent person, I came crawling back to it. I took insulin. I even checked my blood sugar beforehand (it was 71 mg/dL). And then I walked for like a mile and a half afterwards, which resulted in a 66 mg/dL pre-supper blood sugar about 5 hours later. For diabetes burnout, this was an awful example. For quitting diabetes, this was an awful example. But given how taking care of myself takes up every minute of every day and how dedicated I am to staying well, this was big. I consider myself lucky that the huge carbohydrate count in my meal didn’t end up with me having to bolus again even four hours later. While I didn’t check my blood sugar two hours afterwards (which is actually unusual for me, we can call that part of my quitting diabetes) I know by how I felt that I really didn’t get that terribly high. I don’t know why, but I didn’t. 

I can say though that in my temporary “fuck it” experience, I did learn a lot. Normally when I splurge on a high-carb meal, I am later consumed with a rather large amount of guilt and a feeling of failure. It was nice to let loose without the down feelings that followed. That’s not to say that this will end up becoming an everyday thing and that I have completely fallen off the wagon and am being dragged by a rope tied around my ankles. Supper tonite consisted of pork chops and a salad with low-carb ranch dressing. It seems that old habits die hard, although admittedly this is an old habit that is a good thing to keep around.

I will admit that I really don’t know what diabetes burnout feels like. Yes, I get sick of having it and I get frustrated and occasionally say “fuck it” and end up in a Hardee’s drive-thru. I’ve eaten whatever I wanted and not cared. I even spent a good 10 or so years not checking my blood sugar at all. But I’ve always taken the insulin, which is often the most difficult thing for someone with diabetes to handle. The thought of being constantly held captive by a needle or a pump is frustrating. But that is the one thing that I never really had a problem with. After 18 years, insulin has been second nature. I can honestly say that I don’t remember life before I did it, and even though I was 11 when diagnosed pre-diagnosis life and post-diagnosis life for the most part are one in the same. I hear about people experiencing diabetes burnout and books have been written on how to deal with it, but I can honestly say that I don’t understand it. When I burn out, it’s usually only for a day. When I quit diabetes, I walk right back in the door the next morning, sit at my desk and start typing like nothing ever happened.

I guess in the end I’ve accepted that there’s just no getting rid of it. No matter what I do, it’s always going to be there and I will always have to handle it. It’s a part of me and who I am, and that’s just that.

Dear Diabetes,

I try to quit you, but you’re still here. May as well have a beer together and keep working things out.

Love, Lady Imp

Fast Food Fail

When I heard about Taco Bell’s new Power menu, I got excited. It’s super loaded with protein apparently, which can typically translate into two words:

Low. Carb.

Upon further examination of the menu at tacobell.com I found that it really is anything but low carb (like so much Mexican food is, sadly), however it looks to me like it is very easily adaptable to a low carb lifestyle. So when my mother texted me asking if I wanted anything from the place affectionately known in my family as Taco Hell, I figured “hey, why not?” and did a quick search online and saw their Cantina Power Bowl. Looked perfect, lettuce, chicken, sour cream and guac, all on a bed of rice and beans and topped with pico de gallo.

All right y’all, hold your low-starch pellet-fed horses here for one minute, I told Mama to tell them to leave off the rice and the beans. And then I added back in the beans. Because I love me some beans, and they’re almost 50% fibre, can’t be that bad right? But the rice stayed off and so did the pico. The rice, because it likes to DESTROY my blood sugars (in addition to just being plain nasty) and the pico because it just so happens that raw tomatoes make me recreate the projectile vomiting scenes from the Exorcist.

After a little calculation, I figured that my quasi-low carb fast food dietary delight would run me about 24g of total carbohydrates, and I sat in my room giddy with anticipation of my salad’s arrival. I’ve never been a huge fan of guacamole nor avocados, but I was even excited about those too, with all their healthy fats omm nom nom. So excited, especially since Lord Imp really likes Taco Hell and it’s difficult for me to find something that I can eat there that won’t leave me hungry an hour later.

So imagine my disappointment when I opened the bag, dug out my salad, and clearly saw red specks in my salad. Upon closer inspection: tomatoes. Son. Of. A. Bitch. All that excitement and a unit and a half of insulin for nothing. They didn’t even include the damn avocado ranch dressing. My mother tried talking me into not eating it but damnit, I was hungry. So I grabbed a fork, scraped off everything I could find that had come into contact with the tomatoes (which sadly included most of the sour cream and the guac, two things I desperately needed on that salad due to their fat contents and compounded by the fact that it was missing its damn dressing).

The salad sure as hell needed that dressing – it’s bland as shit without the pico. So I grabbed a bottle of chipotle pepper sauce that I use when making Susie Gibbs’ TO DIE FOR 2-minute enchilada sauce (seriously, go make it, your life will never be the same again), and dumped it on. That saved it somewhat. Unfortunately, the lettuce got limp on the drive home so when all was said and done it became an inedible mess. If I ever order this again, it will be when I’m in the restaurant, I won’t be bringing it home. To-go salads are never a good idea when they have a large amount of hot items on them like this one does, anyway.

All in all, the salad was good – ish. I really wish I could have gotten the dressing to give it a full review, but so far it gets an A for its adaptability to the low-carb lifestyle. The added guacamole (which they claim is made from real Haas avocados and I will blindly believe because I am already disappointed enough right now), sour cream and cheese fill the dish with fats and I’m sure the dressing would have contributed to that as well. I have no doubt that the lettuce was crispy when it was put together, and the beans were tasty because beans are just tasty. I just wish I could have kept the most important parts of the salad on it and I wish I didn’t have to spend five minutes picking diced tomatoes out of my damn dinner. In the end, I couldn’t finish the salad, probably due to the fact that I’m incredibly riled up and my appetite tends to dwindle when I’m riled up. It’s now sitting next to me here on the bed, a mushy mound of lettuce that looks like it was passed through a 90-year-old with severe digestive issues. The good news is, it still ended up destroying my blood sugars (I’m sitting at 160 right now after about 45 minutes) so I’m not in danger of going low at this point in time (no guarantees about later though, since I left about a third of it). However, the next time I get this, the beans are sadly going to be left off as well. 😦

Now that I’ve finished telling my story and opinion, let me just take a minute here to appeal to all you working in foodservice. Honey, I know where you’re coming from, I worked fast food for almost 7 years. I know the job sucks, the pay sucks, you get no benefits, you’re tired and you hate everyone. You especially hate people who decide that they want specific things done to their orders, and you don’t give a shit when you accidentally make something not the way the customer ordered it. The quick and easy way is to pick the stuff off and hope they don’t notice. But here’s the thing: often, people don’t order things a certain way because they’re hipster assholes looking to be ahead of the trend without realising that their interests are so 20 years ago. Often, people order things the way that they do because of their dietary needs. Dietary needs which, in this case, have the potential to at best create a rather long night, at worse become a medical emergency. People like me, we are very in tune to what we’re eating; we don’t blindly dig into a dish without thoroughly examining it first, especially when we’ve asked that things get left off due to distastes or medical reasons. Being a diabetic and knowing that a certain kind of food makes you vomit, you have to make a very conscious effort to avoid those foods. Because once you’ve taken that insulin, you had damn well better eat those carbs and keep them down or it’s lights out. And when you’re someone like me who eats low carb and only keeps low carb options in the house, save a bag of Butterfinger minis for emergencies, trying to cover a 24g meal becomes a real difficulty, and I severely dislike making a meal out of candy bars (that’s why I keep minis around, I have lost my taste for them and avoid them at all costs). Admittedly, it was my fault for taking the insulin before examining the dish for any issues, and I give y’all props for at least leaving off the rice as that would have been another major problem food for my blood sugars. But seriously – when someone asks that something is left off their dish, you leave it off. And if you accidentally put it on (it happens to the best of us), you ditch it and make a new one. No matter how busy you are, no matter how many cars are in the drive thru, no matter how many people are in the lobby. You remake it. End. Of. Story.

I Can Never Be…

…a food blogger.

I know what you’re thinking, “but Lady Imp, you are all about being whatever you want to be! You don’t let anything get in the way of your desires and dreams!” Yeah, I don’t let anything come between me and a strawberry pie either, but that doesn’t mean I’m any good at making one. And whenever I make something that is actually edible bordering deliciousness, it always ends up looking like this:

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Yes, this is what my homemade Hot Pockets looked like this morning.

Fortunately, I’m not a stickler for looks, and neither is Lord Imp. What’s important to us is that it doesn’t taste like it needs to be washed down with the horrid taste of a dark stout to get the comparatively poisonous taste of supper out of our mouths. And nine times out of ten, that mess coming out of my oven is pretty damn tasty.

Except I could never put a picture of it up on a blog. Unless I’m making fun of myself.

And then I go trolling All Day I Dream About Food and Maria Mind Body Health for recipes and I am instantly jelly. Look at those cakes! OMG, that lasagna looks perfect! And I set off on an endeavour to fix the perfect meal that looks like it came straight out of Leave it to Beaver. Two hours later, I look at the steaming pile of mess on my plate, silently sob for 15 seconds that it looks like a heap of dinosaur poop, and then grab a fork and dig in because let’s face it, I’m hungry and that dinosaur poop smells damn tasty.

I’m sure it doesn’t help that my view on recipes is somewhat akin to the Pirate’s Code:

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Welcome to the Black Pearl

But I don’t think my dislike for following instructions really has anything to do with the fact that my cooking is less photogenic than me on a bad hair day. I like to believe that has more to do with the fact that I’m just not artistically inclined. We’ll forget that I have been known to sculpt dragons out of Sculpey clay for a minute here, and focus on the fact that my cooking never comes out looking the way it does in the pictures, or even remotely close to it. I just lack the knack to make anything look picture-perfect.

But sometimes, it’s just damn tasty. And in the end that’s all that really matters. Because while it looks like dinosaur poop on my plate before entering the abyss that is my digestive tract, it’s going to look like human poop when all is said and done.

Yummy.

And never ask for my recipes. I steal them from other sources. Do a Google search, you’ll be fine.