What Would You Do With A Buttload of Figs?

I have some ideas but there's no real point in thinking too hard about it unless a buttload of figs became a reality.

At the moment I can think of three ways to make that happen:

1)Start growing your own figs - lots of them

2)Buy figs - lots of them

3)Head over to Love & Olive Oil like I did and enter to win a buttload of figs.

Nomming At The Mad Greek

For days now I have had a strong desire for gyro. I'm partial to The Pita Pit on campus, but because I no longer live on campus, some effort is involved with getting to Pita Pit. Effort the boy had no desire to exert.

I charged him with the task of finding gyro's in our own section of the city and he came up with a place we have passed frequently but never tried before called, The Mad Greek.

Online reviews passed his inspection and off we went.

Upon arrival I noticed a drive-thru window. The boy has in the recent past mentioned that he felt any Greek place with a drive-thru window runs the high likely-hood that it should be avoided. It seems he has not forgotten this statement but did not notice the window as we drive past it while looking for a parking spot.

When you walk in there is a small front area with a few deli counters full of what I assume was Mediterranean fare (I didn't really look because I was pretty focused on getting food into my tummeh'.) Off to the right of the counters we found a hostess ready to seat us right away.

The rest of the restaurant is still very small with tables that, for my taste, were disturbingly close together*, but there were a lot of windows making this tiny restaurant relatively light.

Appetizers will not be a problem at the Mad Greek, there is quite a list to choose from. I decided on the spanikopita and some skordalia.

Our waitress was very sweet and pleasant but not frequently where she was able to be found. However, it was only her second day working there and for all I know, her first time as a waitress. Any mistakes that were made throughout the night she smiled and was very apologetic.

The appetizers came at a reasonable speed. The spanakopita was alright. The kind of spanakopita I grew up with and love leaves you reeking of it by the time you have finished. This was not at all that sort of spanakopita. I would recommend this to first timers, those who may not be quite so picky about it, or those who crave it badly enough that it doesn't matter how dead on the taste is. Would I be willing to eat it again? Yes, but it doesn't even rank if I were to create a list of the top spanakopita's I have eaten in my life. Is it better than the spinach and feta in a pocket sandwich from Amy's Kitchen? That may be for you to decide.

On to that skordalia. Skordalia is a dip that I can always get excited about, yesterday was no exception and that's really too bad. This was definitely the worst skordalia of my life. What was supposed to be a thick puree of Greek goodness was what can at best be described as soupy (and not necessarily a particularly good potato soup.)

After a bit of effort to wave down our waitress we ordered. I had the large gyro sans banana peppers and the boy had the large gyro with only meat and sauce. Alright foodies and particularly you Greek food lovers like myself, I'm sure you noticed it. That's right. I had to say "without banana peppers." Never in my life have I heard of a banana pepper finding its way onto a gyro. I was a little horrified. The sauce to be found on these gyros was not tzatziki, it was what was described as "creamy garlic sauce." The boy also opted to order a side of fries.

The gyros came but the fries did not. It once again took a bit of effort to find our waitress and let her know but she worked to remedy the solution quickly.

The gyros were quite tasty and I wasn't horribly disappointed, I would and will eat these in the future.

The fries were covered in some sort of indistinguishable seasoning which immediately left me disheartened but I forged on anyway. Perhaps I shouldn't have. The fries were not very good. What started off as a tasteless fry as you tried more became an oddly sweet fry. We asked for ketchup seeing what this would do for these forlorn potatoes. There is no other way to put this: the ketchup was completely disgusting and sweet, almost like sugar or some sort of sweetener had been dumped in to make what it may have began life as go further.

I'm not sure what happened. Perhaps management noticed the issues of plates not being cleared away as they emptied and more food coming or our need to flag down the waitress and her returning with more food that may have been obviously overlooked, but we were suddenly being taken care of by multiple servers that we had not previously seen. Including what seemed to be the owner himself. Drinks were refilled and we were repeatedly asked if we were alright and if we needed anything.

When the time came to pay the check, I had a bit left on my plate. The waitress whisked it off and packed it up for me, which I didn't expect because I had seen another patron packing their own food up to go for them-self. I also ordered some hummus to go. I tried the hummus this morning for breakfast and it was similar to the skordalia experience. Worst. Hummus. Ever.

Believe it or not kids, I didn't consider the night or the restaurant completely awful. Maybe it was just because I enjoy date night with my husband so much but I don't think the Mad Greek experience was a bust.

My overall rating is three stars. I liked it but didn't love it. It's very convenient to where I live and the gyros were worth remembering for when I want some in the future. Would I travel from campus to get here and try it? No, definitely not. If you are looking for authentic Greek - this is not it. But really, you shouldn't look for authentic anything that isn't Ethiopian food in this area of Ohio because you probably won't find it.



* The people at the next table could not only hear what we were saying if they wanted to but the couple was pretty obviously attempting to do so. They also paid attention to what we ordered (even though they were there first) and made a comment on their way out (conversational and moderately polite but not at all necessary.)

A Word About Food Theivery

All food thievery is wrong. Totally, unbelievable, undeniably, you're-going-to-burn-for-this wrong. I feel even strong about this when it comes to sandwiches. If you doubt how strongly I feel about this - you can ask my husbands grandma and his cousin.

ANYHOW. I am sitting here waiting for dinner and all I can think about is the Ross Geller sandwich with the moist maker. I have decided that in the near future, I will require one (or I might die.) I got sidetracked, by you tube, when looking for a "recipe" or a transcript from the show to remember exactly what goes on it.



In conclusion, food thievery is wrong. Don't do it. Ever. You'll burn for it. Now I'm off to eat my dinner.

Last Night at The Tuna

In the Gateway in The Ohio State Campus area there is a local bar called Ugly Tuna Saloona. A place I personally like for their drinks that come in a fishbowl served up with what seems like six billion straws and a toy alligator filled with a shot.

About a week or two ago I got a Facebook event notification from Ugly Tuna about jello wrestling. I'd never seen jello wrestling in person and thought it may be an interesting way to spend a Friday night.

The day of the event I went back to the Facebook event page and looked it over to make sure I could properly formulate plans for the evening. And I got distracted. By prize money.

The flooding in our house has lead to a lot of extra expense that we cannot afford. As a matter of fact, we needed the prize money to make sure we made it until the boys next pay check.

I text messaged some friends and family to see if they thought I stood a snowballs chance is Hades in a wrestling match. Almost all results were positive. My fathers response was (no surprise here) like none other. He basically thought I was going to be in some sort of street brawling prize fight because I was being intentionally vague and avoiding telling my daddy that I'd be jello wrestling. It got to the point where I needed to clarify his little girl had no notions of high-stakes, back ally, wrestling for money.

My text: "In jello"
His: "Crickets"

The boy was kind enough to quickly round me up a small cheering section and we all met at Tuna around 9:30 so there would be enough time to sign up for the event and stake out spots to stand.

The inflatable pool the wrestling was to take place in was already out and up against the stage to keep it out of the way until the time was much nearer and they would lay it out.

[Hunting through your clothes for jello wrestling appropriate apparel is somewhat interesting. I picked a pair of shorts I don't mind if they were destroyed and a shirt that was already partially destroyed and slightly ill-fitting to go over my bikini.]

The event started late (around 11 instead of 10). While we waited for people to sign up and the games to begin we watched the inflatable pool be filled by security with trash bag after trash bag of jello (most of what appeared to be lime but I definitely saw some orange once).

During the sign-up and wait it was revealed that contestants would actually be fishing toy sharks out of the pool instead of a straight wrestling match). The first girl to get eight out of the possible fifteen toy sharks in her bucket would be the winner.

When the time I went up on stage and stepped behind a screen where I was given a shirt and some boxer shorts. When I found out I didn't have to wear them I chose not to and set them with my clothes.

I was not first to go and I was glad of it. I wanted to watch and see what to expect.

I won the first round and had actually thought I lost and was pretty bummed.

Between rounds we were handed a giant wad of paper towels to do our best to towel off while we waited.

I went three or four total rounds, each with a different girl. One in particular, with another brown beauty who if I caught it correctly was named Rachel, had gone a particularly rough two rounds. The shark finding turned into actual jello wrestling / cat fighting and not of her own devise from what I saw. I had no interest in cat fighting this girl so I made sure to shake her hand before the match.

Finally it was down to me and one last girl, Anya. Anya, not unlike myself, had no interest in sudden cat fighting in jello. I assured her I had no intention of picking a fight.

Fortune smiled upon me and I was able to take first prize, adding enough funds to our bank account to insure we make it to the next check. I also got to keep the shirt I was given to wear while wrestling and a Budweiser hat.

The boy was given the camera to get pictures for ya'll, but the bar was so packed (and of course he wanted to watch) so all photos we have are from afterward in the parking lot where I continued to wipe off with some clothes from the trunk of one of our cars. A lot of photos were taken so I feel some may surface on the internet and will keep an eye out to link you to the action shots from the night.

Here are some of my learned facts about jello wrestling:
1) It's only a bit cold when you first get in. You get used to it and it's no sad bad.
2) Jello is beyond hard to just wipe off

3) Your butt is apparently a jello magnet. It will require attention.
4) It turns back into powder when it dries.

Not to over-extend an already lengthy post too far here is a quick, boy's eye view commentary:

Around noon on Friday the wife tells me that she wants to enter a jello wrestling contest. I was stunned, amused, mildly confused, and a bit excited. I told her I'd support her if she chose to do it and went about rounding up a cheering section.

We arrived around 9 to make sure we had time to sign up and were apparently in no danger of not being accepted since they didn't start until after 11. The crowd sucked. I will admit I was disappointed and worried when I found it was shark wrangling rather than jello wrestling since I was confident my wife could whoop those skinny little rich girls but I wasn't sure how fast she could gather toy sharks. Watching the other girls I became confident again that my wife could still beat them, especially the ones who didn't get down and dirty in the jello. So of course she ran through the competition even that last girl who was cheating before the match only to be out-done by my oh so clever wife.

The couple fights in the jello were fun to watch, the fights that almost took place in the crowd were exciting and walking away with a proud yet sticky wife and two hundred dollars richer was fantastic.

Anniversary

Today is the boy and I's 2nd anniversary. Which feels a little funny to say when he and I have been together the majority of time since I was a junior or senior in high school.

Two days ago when I was looking for pictures for the most recent blog I found this. A picture of a cake we got when we had been together for 2 years. Just thought it was amusing to find this marker 2 days before our 2 year anniversary of another 2 year anniversary.

We went back to the restaurant where he proposed, Mozart's (N. High St. Clintonville, OH). In fact, without asking, we were seated at the very table we sat at that day.



From the moment I saw Mozart's when I first visited Columbus I knew I just really wanted to eat there. It wasn't long until I did and the wonderful food, atmosphere and wait-staff have left such an impression in me we have been many times in the years we have been here.

There are two other places that have left a lasting impression on me, Raising Canes (fried chicken so moist I insisted on having it at our wedding) which I didn't have until a bit later, and Jimmy Johns ("subs so fast you'll freak") which I had in some of my first visits.

The appetizer tonight was all me. While the boy ate bread I had the hummus. The portion seems much smaller than it used to be which made me sad because Mozarts always seemed far from shy about piling on the delicious veggies with your hummus. And I do so love take home.

For an entree both had the wiener schnitzel (I had the veal he had the chicken). It only occurred to me to take a picture for you after I mowed through most of my meal. At that point his was long gone.


For dessert I had an amaretto truffle and the boy had a slice of chocolate mousse torte (which is the cake he proposed with. And I do mean the cake. He proposed with an entire cake).

I believe that's all for now kids and sorry for all of the dark cell phone pictures (I forgot the digital at home).

Your Moment of Zen

It's been much longer than I intended since my last post.

Two weeks ago after we (the boy, a couple we know, and myself) visited the South Drive-In Theater here in Columbus where we first saw Despicable Me and then after an intermission Toy Story 3. Some pictures from the night can be found here in the Om Nom Nom Studios Flickr stream. All in all it wasn't a bad way to spend $16 and an evening. It was a wonderful and unexpected surprise that the boy concocted because he knew that not only did I really want to see Despicable Me but to go to a drive-in movie. Despicable Me proved to be worth my excitement.


Some of you may have caught my earlier apology via the Facebook fan page where I mentioned there has been a serious flooding issue going on in my basement. This is what has been taking me so far from you these days but I'm doing my best to insure I don't disappear all together.

I'm reasonably sure I have made mentions (or at least alluded to) in the past about my tea corner.

After about a year here in Columbus I decided to make my bedroom a haven or at least a part of it. When I came up with this I lived in a different house entirely and had gotten my dining room, bathroom,

and bedroom

all to have a cozy feel to them.

Here at my current house/apartment/townhouse/what's-this-thing-called-anyway I only have a corner. In it is a chair that has been with me all my life, now under a cover to help protect it and a small wood and glass stand that holds what I consider basic tea necessities for a bedroom tea corner. The corner contains 3 different types of tea pots (a tea posy, a bodum with strainer inside, a 1 cup strainer pot I bought at Zen Cha), 1 electric kettle, and a tumbler to get water from the bathroom. On the bottom of the table is an assortment of flowering, loose, and bagged teas as well as a Tupperware container full of hot chocolate bags. Under the table is a 3-D wooden puzzle. To increase that homey zen-like feel there are photos of friends and family nearby and a stack of library books. On the chair you see some of the new aprons I have been working on that will (probably) be out soon, a sweater I knit and haven't taken proper photos of yet, and a scarf I am currently working on.


What on earth was the point of all this? Just a suggestion that you take a minute to see if you have a spot like this to go to in your own home and a suggestion about what you can do with it. My own mother has a prayer corner with a rocking chair, cd player, and books.

Pod People, Mr. Bacon, and My Whole Foods Mugging

My husband may have been taken over by a pod person, but it's cool - this pod person is awesome!

About a week ago I made a tea and lunch date with a good friend of mine that I haven't seen in possibly two years (said date had to and was cleared by the boy since all money of my own comes from Etsy - and there's pretty much never any of that).

Lunch at 12 is usually no big but I had stuff to do before I got that far.

Little known fact. I actually get up around 5 - 6:30 AM. Why? Because it's when my husband gets up for work and if I sleep in too late then I will want to stay up later. And I can't be left alone to stay up late. No no. I insist he stay up with me and keep me company. Because I "like-like" him you know?

Before meeting up with Misty A. (initial added because some of you may remember it was a "Darling Misty B." who supplied me with dreamsicle cupcake info) I had to get in a work-out, shower/wash my hair, go grocery shopping, and take the dog out for her second walk of the day. I'd also planned on a trip to Hobby Lobby but ended up choosing not to go today.

We have been running low on a few items and were totally out of even more so for the last three or so days I had been warning the boy that more money than usual would be spent on groceries. Groceries ran over my quoted price and he was kosher with it. SCORE! I realize they are just groceries but we have been so poor for long I usually feel guilty spending any money.

The chosen lunch spot was a favourite to so many women that I know here - Zen Cha Tea Salon (where you can easily get a pot of tea for around $5). I tried their beef sukiyaki and was far from disappointed. We didn't get any knitting done but we didn't really notice or care. Yet again, the final price ran over my initial quote. He said it was fine and he loves me anyway.

From lunch I headed over to Whole Foods in search of a grouper burger. Giant Eagle used to sell these and loved them but I haven't been able to find them anyplace in over a year - not even Giant Eagle.

Going to Whole Foods can be a dangerous endeavor for a foodie but thankfully I was at least full from lunch so part of the danger was removed.

I hadn't been there long (all I'd picked up at this point was a sale bottle of beaujolais-villages and two packages of Snøfrisk (a Norwegian goat cheese I am particularly fond of). While I was still standing at the mouth of cheesetopia I notice the woman next to me is staring, and not that try-to-hide-it-side-stare but an unapologetic, carefree stare. I move to the other side of her, because it will take more than a bit of staring to scare me away from cheese, but her head continues to swivel and follow me. Pretty sure it was at this point I just look right back at her. I now have a clear view of a middle-aged Asian woman (later she told me she was from Hong Kong).

She tells me she likes my hair and goes on and on about how very different and pretty it is. She also seemed convinced it was some sort of extensions and was not my own hair. Had it not been still wet and up in buns I probably would have let her touch it for herself. I got the very distinct impression she had never seen dreadlocks. She made a few remarks about being sure she would never be able to wear hers the same way.

Usually this is where a conversation would end.

She asked me if I were a student, about the tattoos on my leg, and a bevy of other things. The two things she seemed to focus in one were:

1) I live in Whitehall - which is nowhere near as safe an area as the online crime reports had made it look. For instance, just two days after moving here the boy and I were jumped by six people - and those people even managed to get away with it all.

She asked how much my rent was (cheaper than our house on campus had been). And insisted I move to an apartment complex that was pretty much right across the street. She told me they were cheaper or at least as cheap and much safer. I then received repeated offers for her to go over there with me now to go look at these places. Repeated, insistent offers. Later I got the impression she may live there as well.

2) I used to be a culinary student.

Here is where the "mugging" began. She wanted to know everything. Where I have been to school? What sort of food do I cook? Have I cooked anyplace? She even looked over each item in my cart and asked questions. Like how to make cheese - specifically the Snøfrisk.

[I'm going to add here that this morning at the first grocery store I visited I was asked about the tattoos and if I were a chef and where I currently work.]

Then she started pointing at what seemed like everything in front of us saying that everything there was too expensive and how does she make that (assorted raviolis stuffed with tasty bits) and that (egg noodles).

At this point I'm haphazardly throwing out answers (I went to school in Philly. I can cook pretty much whatever anyone wants. No I do not cook anyplace here. Egg noodles? Those are totally easy for you to make!), not considering the possible repercussions, and leaning in for her to repeat things that didn't seem to make sense to me. Thankfully I didn't speak of having studied to be a sommelier. I can only imagine explaining it and the questions that would ensue.

Somewhere around this time I am looking for a way out and see none. Not even when a Whole Foods employee comes by and asks how we are doing or when my phone started madly bleeping with text messages.

I have no idea how I managed it, but what I sensed was a reasonable time to make a short break away from her (remember people there is still cheese at arms length that I have yet to even look at! I can't leave now!)

This was still not the end of the conversation for her. I had nearly nabbed my first piece of sweet, sweet cheese to ogle, and apparently this was a too daring and vulnerable move. She moved around to the other side of me, not quite but nearly blocking any escape that doesn't involve my interest in the cheese.

I should teach her to cook. It is not a question, but a statement. The haphazard answers are now no longer a problem. I have them in check - or so I thought. She begins asking specific but still very vague questions mingled with statements like "how do I cook fish? I do not know what spice to use. What spice do I use on fish." I tell her there is no one way to make fish and that she will need to first decide how she wants it prepared before spices are an issue. Her response? "I know you use bay leaf in soup." What do you say to this? That had nothing to do with fish. I said the first thing that came to mind that didn't invoke any further fish conversation, "well ya' can".

Shortly after she cornered me I started treating her like someone handing out fliers I have no interest in. I did my best to make very little to no eye contact. The questions keep flying. Now they are about chicken and turkey (which I now notice is all she has in her cart).

I have no idea how it happened. But the storm was winding down. But it still came with some damage. She wants my phone number so I will teach her to cook. I tell her what is actually the truth, "I have no idea what my phone number is". And I honestly don't, I haven't known what number someone can reach me at for well over eight months now. She doesn't understand. I do my best to explain that I don't know what it is because I never bothered to learn it. Before I had a chance to do a thing about it, another haphazard statement flies out of my mouth. I have e-mail and she can e-mail me. Mind you, if she is willing to correspond this way I think there is a chance that I could survive it ([in]famous last words). I give her the e-mail for Om Nom Nom Studios, she mentioned the apartment complex once more and once I (again) declined - she went away.

I was now let alone with the cheese.

In the end my trip to Whole Foods, despite how few items I bought, was more than I expected or wanted to pay. Again, the boy was fine with it all (in addition to okaying my purchasing some knitting patterns online as well as a little bit of yarn from Knit Picks).

Believe it or not kids that was the abbreviated version of all that happened with the nameless woman from Hong Kong.