You are currently browsing the tag archive for the ‘body’ tag.

Jason’s work is bananas. His mornings on the run are bananas. His hours are bananas. The creative muscle of the team is bananas. Jason’s mustache is bananas! (picture of which he won’t let me post here, boo)

Last night was the first in weeks where we were able to sit down at the dining table and enjoy a meal together. There was plenty to enjoy; I made the quickest and the yummiest and the healthiest dish there is in the whole wide world – Grilled Salmon over Spinach Salad with Cranberries, Toasted Pecans, and Roasted Butternut Squash. To finish it off, I christened the plate with a beautiful green dressing – my Mustard Parsley Vinaigrette.

Since my BOO-BOO, my Honey-Poos, my Bubba has been chained to his office with thick and indestructible links of obligation and reliability (that are gazzillion times stronger than steel) for most of his waking hours a day, my motivation to cook has been rather flaccid. I made a pot of scrumptious Ribollita Soup with my homemade bread earlier this week, which lasted for FOUR DAYS (unheard of in this neck of the woods …in other circumstances). I’ve been also forced to finish off whatever leftovers were still stationed in the fridge, since me and waste don’t get along.

For three days I would also walk past a bunch of untouched bananas sitting on the kitchen counter and observing my every move in silence. I had no purpose for the guys, since Jason had been stripped of the time for his morning bowl of cereal with a sliced banana and a handful of blueberries. Each day I would notice the skin on the fruit turning one shade deeper from golden to brown, and the aroma of the bunch would chase me through the house.

BASTA!” I exclaimed on Saturday morning at last. “I’m making a banana bread.” SWOOSH, I opened my laptop, CLICK-CLICK I typed on the keyboard and, HELLO! asked the Internet for the recipe. I liked the one on www.joyofbaking.com and decided to follow the steps. Ok, I would NOT be myself if I didn’t tweak it, just a tad. Below I’m describing in detail how I went from a bunch of ripe and smelly bananas to a FRAGRANT and GOLDEN BROWN luscious BANANA BREAD that is sweet really just a tiny bit and packed with nuts of all kinds. For your reference, here’s the link to the original and my nod of thanks to the author of that recipe.

And here’s Agi’s Way:

Ingredients:

–       1.25 cups of toasted and chopped assorted nuts (walnuts, pecans, pine nuts)

–       1.25 cups of all-purpose unbleached flour

–       0.5 cup of whole wheat flour

–       0.5 dry cup of agave nectar

–       1 tsp of baking powder

–       0.5 tsp of baking soda

–       1 tsp of salt

–       1 tsp of cinnamon

–       0.5 tsp of cardamom

–       1 tsp of vanilla extract

–       2 large organic eggs

–       4 medium very ripe organic bananas

–       0.5 stick of butter, melted and cooled

Preheat the oven to 350°. Peel and mash your bananas in a bowl, add melted and cooled butter, agave nectar, vanilla extract, and mix it all. In a separate bowl crack open two eggs and beat them with a fork. Add the eggs to the banana mixture and set aside.

Sieve all the dry ingredients into another large bowl. Now gently fold the wet banana mixture into the dry ingredients. Don’t mix, just keep folding it in until all components are combined. You’ll see a chunky and thick batter and that’s what you’re after.

Scoop your forthcoming bread into a 9” x 4” loaf pan, previously greased with either butter or a non-stick spray, level out with your spatula, and put into the oven for about 55 minutes to an hour.

The bread will look like Jennifer Aniston’s post summer bod – golden brown and shiny. It will smell just as well. Be warned that you won’t be able to resist to not only inhale its fragrance, but also touch it tenderly all over its curves, lick it perhaps, slightly nibble on it, definitely kiss it, and inevitably TASTE it.

A slice of the BANANA BREAD toasted on a Sunday morning, then touched with organic butter and a drizzle of blueberry sauce, paired with a cup of freshly brewed coffee…. Oh, dear lord, my angel of prosperity, the spirit of my deceased grandmother who watches over me, I don’t believe I’ve been THAT good to deserve it all.

But if it’s already given… Thank you!

P.S. Mustache update: it’s been trimmed. Boo.

Advertisements

Working from home turned me into a Neanderthal woman.

Now, what does working from home entail? The fact whether you get paid for it or not is an irrelevant technicality. Remember that money never defines you. My new trade consists of whipping out versatile dinners for at least 5 nights a week, tossing loads of dirty clothes through the laundry machine (most of it Jason’s since, you know, the Neanderthal factor), vacuuming the three area rugs spread across our apartment twice a day of all the nasty little wooden shells that have been falling off the trees surrounding our apartment and consequently dragging themselves inside our chamber of love underneath ours shoes for the last MONTH. Gasp for air. Other activities of a house worker involve watching Oprah and Food Network, Skyping with Mother, Cousin, and our handsome gay neighbors, scrubbing the bathroom floor with a toothbrush (oops, nope, that’s Jason), and writing.

Anyone who’s ever tried as much as to write a letter understands that the task is unlike riding a bicycle – once you’ve written something good it doesn’t mean you’ll now produce quality pieces with ease happily ever after. And it never gets easier. True, there are days I shoot out articles in no time, as if I dissolved 3 tablespoons of verbal Metamucil in a glass of aloe vera juice with a heavy drop of senna extract and washed it down my throat. However, quite commonly I just sit in front of my laptop and glance at its blank screen with such intensity I make myself run to the bathroom even without drinking the above-described concoction. That helps putting down the first paragraph on the page. Then nothing, nothing for a long time, and a little more nothing before the next paragraph sees daylight. Sometimes I find myself walking Cosmo, washing dishes, and knitting a sweater between single sentences. So when people (women especially) tell me “Don’t talk to me about pain till you give birth”, I scorn the challenger with the ole good “Been there. Done that. Three times a week, at least.”

Yes, art requires sacrifices. First went the manicure and pedicure. Next, I killed make up. I take that back. I never leave the house without a few touches a concealer on my skin and brushing my eyebrows. The latter is especially crucial if I want to avoid causing any traffic accidents when women faint and children scream terrified by my sight, while old people gawk at me thinking “I thought I had seen it all…” It also takes an effort to ensure I have a fresh shirt on my back every morning. I suspect I could save money on heating the apartment if I finally got the nerve to burn all my bras. My boobs haven’t seen one in months, because, why bother? There are days I forget to shower. It’s gotten so bad in fact that lately I started having nightmares where my various …uhm… [I’m whispering that one] hairy parts are being exposed in public.

Irrefutably, crazy love and pure exhaustion keep my boyfriend from running away, maybe even blinded. When he comes home and hands me “You look beautiful. I love you” like a bouquet of flowers, I instantly look behind me expecting to see Eva Mendes stretching her baby-oiled body against the wall and sporting the Calvin Klein underwear. Is he really talking to me?

Such an image inevitably brings forth fear and motivation. For instance, I have already showered three times today, filed my nails, put on some make up even though the only things we had planned for the day was a quick trip to a coffee shop and a walk with our dog around the block. I applied all sorts of grooming, which I shall NOT describe. My efforts paid off faster than I thought when Jason and I walked by a Victoria’s Secret’s store and left with three new pairs of lace unmentionables.

All that pampering made me feel like a woman again, the modern variety with manicured hands, waxed unthinkable places, and trying to fit in clothes two sizes too small.  As such, I couldn’t fathom feeding my body with anything more than a simple salad.

MÂCHE WITH AVOCADO AND MUSTARD VINAIGRETTE

The name of the salad pretty much says it all. If you’re not familiar, mâche is also known as cow grass. Its leaves are very delicate and it is mild in taste.

Empty a bag of mâche into a large bowl; dice a ripe avocado and spoon it out on top of the greens. Feel free to add chopped scallions and diced tomato if you crave some color. It will all go swimmingly together. Now drizzle your salad with the dressing (recipe below). Gently toss everything around, and voila! Enjoy the treat and feel healthy, light, and beautiful. Size does not matter …in this case.

MUSTARD VINAIGRETTE

–       3 parts of good quality extra virgin olive oil

–       1 part of white balsamic vinegar

–       1 tsp of Dijon mustard

–       1 tbsp of honey

–       sea salt + freshly ground black pepper to taste

Whisk it in a small bowl, or shake it up in a closed jar, or best – mix it together in a blender (or Magic Bullet) until the vinaigrette is evenly emulsified. It’s that simple. And so delightful!

Smacznego!

Enter your email address to subscribe to OMB and receive notifications of new posts by email.

Join 13 other followers

Follow 1MoreBite on Twitter

BITES

Flickr Photos

COSMO LOGIC

Twitter Feed

Error: Twitter did not respond. Please wait a few minutes and refresh this page.

Foodista Food Blog of the Day Badge

ARCHIVES

Advertisements