Crispy pork skin is possibly the closest thing to heaven on earth. Next comes Titi Annie’s red rice and beans, and pasteles rounds out the meal. Puerto Ricans know how to eat. I would argue that we have the best food known to man. You can disagree, but I am pretty sure I’m right.

Christmas this year was nearly a flop. My Titi was going to have everyone over on the 19th and no one knew who was going to have everyone over. Then the snow storm happened. No party. Titi decided that she’d do Christmas instead. I was all for this plan since on the 19th I was crying over my ethics final. I guess Titi wasn’t up for a ton of cooking on Christmas, so she told my cousin that she was thinking of making a lasagna.

“We are not white people!”

My cousin convinced my Titi that the lasagna was not such a great idea. Instead she made a pork roast, a giant pot of rice, pasteles, and all kinds of yummy dips and foods. Ahhh heavenly! Before you get the wrong idea, my cousin has nothing against white people. We just feel bad for them. I mean can you imagine sitting at Christmas dinner over lasagna and reminiscing over that 3rd grade science project that didn’t work out so well, then the awkward silence happens.

*Side Story* We went out to dinner in Philadelphia when my cousin graduated from med school. It was just us girls, and we were laughing and joking. Across from us was another family. Not a one of them were talking. Their food must have been terribly interesting is all I have to say. *End side story*

I grew up in a relatively average size family with a HUMONGOUS extended family. Two rather large extended families actually. With my dad’s family there is always good food and I literally laugh so hard that my stomach hurts. Between stories about my cousin who’s a surgeon and my Uncle Tony remembering my Abuela throwing a spoon at my Uncle Hector’s head. It was metal and actually stuck into the wall; Uncle Hector obviously moved fairly quickly.

My mom’s family may eat creamed hot dogs (think hot dogs in a white cream sauce and then throw up a little bit in your mouth), but they are also a rather good time. If creamed hot dogs are on the menu, I just eat before I go.

What constitutes a white person? Well I think vanilla people would be a better definition, because I know a lot of rather exciting white people. (I love you mom!) Food should be something you are in tears laughing over. It shouldn’t bring the family together. It should bring the family running to the pile of plates to fill up on food before someone else gets the crispy burnt rice on the bottom of the caldera (rice pot).

Worried you’re a vanilla person? Well never fear there is still hope. I think pork is a great way to liven things up. Just bite into the crispy skin and you will smile and remember a great story to send everyone into fits of painful laughter. There’s actually a hunk of pork sitting in our fridge right now. I’ll send out that recipe and pictures when we make it. Hope you are happily stuffed on holiday goodies. Diets don’t start till January 1st so be sure to overindulge.

Happy Eating!!!

Emily

MSNBC reported yesterday that a woman in Texas called 911 because her husband would not eat dinner. Aside from making obvious claims on the woman’s sanity, (please tell me that you have already made claims on this woman’s sanity) I am thinking that maybe this woman just can’t cook. Either that or she has a rather picky eater on her hands. Both of these situations could send someone over the edge, especially if sanity was already compromised (I said if. Don’t judge!).

Now there have been many instances when my mom made something completely inedible for dinner. I love my mom dearly, but we ate wallpaper paste red rice and beans for months before she got it right. It was always a monstrous pot of rice too, so we all had to learn the swallow without chewing techniques. I also became an expert at “this is a lot closer than the last one” discussions. My poor Pennsylvania Dutch mother. She was meant to stick to potatoes and celery, and not to venture into the world of Latin cuisine.

In honor of this lovely and possible loony woman in Texas, I am of the firm opinion she was trying to poison her husband and he knew about it, I decided that we all needed to think up some truly 911 worthy food emergencies. Sometimes I wish there were a food version of 911. “Hello, operator, my oven coil just burned out and the turkey just started to cook AND it’s Thanksgiving and 30 people will be arriving in 5 hours.” It would save so many people from resorting to Chinese food during the holidays.

911 Moment #1: I have run out of butter. This is perhaps worse than death. Butter makes the most lovely of foods. The lack of butter is just so sad.

911 Moment #2: Beef Stroganoff. Really this has to be the worst meal known to man. Whoever thought of this dish needs to just crawl into a hole and apologize for the wrong they have done to the world. Any dinner with this concoction is a 911 worthy moment for everyone expected to partake.

911 Moment #3: Is that blood? You’re cutting away at some vegetables, and you don’t feel it but you slice right into your finger. All of the veggies need to be thrown out. Washing them off is not an option and if you think it is, you should probably just stop cooking for good.

911 Moment #4: It doesn’t turn out. You have made your famous apple pie a million times for yourself. Every time you make it, it turns out perfectly. You have been telling your friends about it and finally decide to bring it to the holiday party. It is a flop. The crust burns the apples are hard. 911 moment if I have ever heard of one.

Of course not a one of these moments are truly worthy of calling 911. Emergencies are only emergencies because they happen infrequently and only when the situation is truly dire. In the food world, there is a real need for a 911 number. Maybe if we give Congress a Christmas deadline, they’ll work something out for us. Until then instead of calling the poor operator about your husband’s lack of appetite, you should probably just find a girlfriend to complain to or a cooking class to take.

Happy Eating!!!

Emily

My sister’s name is Mara Cruz. She was named after my dad’s grandmother Cruz Della Cruz. My brother’s name is Jeshua David. He was named after my dad. My name is Emily Elizabeth. I was named after Emily Elizabeth the owner of Clifford the Big Red Dog, you know the children’s books. I find it fitting that my mom was the one who picked my name and I was named after a fictional children’s book character. It’s pretty much the same as being named after my mom, and my life has been just the adventure such a name should bring.

As I was reading Julia Child’s book My Life in France, I decided that my first daughter would be named Julia. Go ahead and laugh, but it’s Christmas so I can have my epitomes about whatever I like. Emily Elizabeth was so brave and wonderful and she had that big red dog named Clifford. Julia Childs was equally brave and wonderful. She was the Barbara Walters of food. She believed in the American housewife when everyone else was trying to sell them boxed cake mixes. While all of those things are great, I think the most important thing about Julia Childs (and the reason I would name my daughter after her) was that she believed in herself. That sounds so silly and Halmark-esque, but she didn’t believe in herself in the self-help gimicky sort of way. She really knew that she could do something great, and she got stuff done.

I was hoping to find out the happily-ever-after in Julia Childs’ book today, but instead I had wonderful conversations with people in the airport and with the two people next to me on my flight. I didn’t put on my ipod once, and it was wonderful how much human contact I had. Technology is great, but there are definitely times when too much technology causes you to miss the woman bitching out her husband because he didn’t get in the wrong line. It’s not a secret I’m nosy, but when you can’t actually hear anything but The Mamas and The Papas singing about Monday the nosy me gets sadly ignored. I think I really need to stop doing that; nosy me is way more fun.

I am so thankful to be home. My dad went out and bought me a new phone to replace the phone I had that dies every two seconds. I love my dad! My mom and I went grocery shopping. When I was little, this was one of those pretend-to-be-a-big-person tasks. I would remember our weekly list of meals and help make sure mom did not forget bread for my dad for work. I felt very important. Now that I live on my own, going grocery shopping with my mom is one more reminder that I can’t pretend to be grown up anymore, because in many ways I am grown up. I check price tags and disclose my thriftiest secrets. Oddly this feels completely natural. Life is strange like that.

Tomorrow is Christmas Eve. My sister is planning a romantic breakfast of bacon and eggs for her boyfriend and her. Bacon is involved so I’ll definitely be there. Hope you are just as actively embarrassing your family on this lovely holiday.

Happy Eating!!!

Emily

This time of year always separates the cooks from the oh-I-brought-drinks. My Uncle Tony was always the drink guy when I was little. He wasn’t going to cook, and no one expected him too, so he brought drinks. He brought seltzer water a lot, which kind of grossed me out; I didn’t judge though.

In case you don’t know this yet, life is a little different for men than it is for women. Men can get away with “bringing drinks.” Women on the other hand get labeled immediately. I know this, because my mom and I gossip about it every year.

Before you go and label my mom and I, I’ll tell you that we can be harsh. My sister and I are way more harsh, but we always have good reason. Women who don’t at least attempt to cook are looked on in contempt by the Gonzalez women. We are not unreasonable though about our contempt. All you need to impress us is one good dish. If you can contribute one good piece of the meal, you’re golden. We are a part of a rather large family, so a side dish will suffices.

If you aren’t a part of my family and assume that you are not being judged when you attend your Christmas party and bring that box of Pepridge Farm cookies, you are seriously living in denial. You don’t want to be known as that person.

The good news, it is not very hard to impress. Start with a dip. Everyone loves a good dip. Pick something easy and tell everyone you are trying a new recipe. Saying you are trying something new is like female code for “oh yeah I cook and I have my favorite recipes, but I just decided it was time to branch out.” It is brilliant.

Christmas can be stressful with parties and events and family and last minute “oh no she’s getting me a present” presents. The last thing you want is to show up to a party with drinks and have the equivalent of my mother and I criticizing you till the end of time. Be adventurous and venture in your kitchen. You may be shocked at how much fun you have once you are there.

Happy Eating!!!

Emily

Ok it’s not quite frightful yet, but according to the maps it’s coming. I was a little disappointed tonight. I walked to Trader Joes to catch a little bit of the bread and milk action and the bread aisle was full, and people were civilly walking around the store. Epic fail, Boston, epic fail.

Here’s the problem with city life. You are never really “snowed in.” The T keeps running and your feet still work. When the store is within walking distance, why stock up?

I must say this has to be the most disappointing thing I have ever experienced. I mean don’t get me wrong it is lovely to walk to the store in the snow when you realize you just ate your last two pieces of bread. It is also lovely to know that if the electricity goes out, the toilets and water will still work. Oh the days of melting ice on a kerosene heater, so the toilet can be flushed. Everyone in the house has to pee the minute the water stops running and a tub full of water last about one flush, maybe two. The joys of living in the country!

I don’t miss all of the bad things that come with living on the top of the mountain, but I do miss the feeling that there is nothing to do, nowhere to go, and 3 acres of snow to play in once things slow down. The hot cocoa tastes so much better in this situation.

There is of course one thing about snow in PA that just baffles me. I am told this happens in other places, but it doesn’t happen in Boston so I’m just going to talk about PA for a moment and you can all deal.

Milk and bread. It disappears with the first mention of snow. The stores might as well just set up bread and milk by the check-out to save people the time of walking through the store to find it. The baffling part to me is why milk and bread. There are a lot of things I eat on a daily basis. In the scheme of things, milk and bread really aren’t high on that list. I suppose, in a family, bread and milk disappear quickly, and maybe I just don’t grasp how important milk and bread really are.

I’m trying to excuse this habit, when I really think that stocking up on funfetti cake mix and hot cocoa would be a much smarter idea. Who needs bread when cupcakes are involved.

As this storm hits the Northeast, I really hope your stores are out of bread and milk and you have to buy that sliced Italian bread that no one ever buys. It really makes good french toast, which of course you can make with that milk you are buying. Out of milk, use water. Don’t risk life and limb for the milk; it’s really not worth it.

Happy Eating!!!

Emily

I was reading the Metro this morning. It’s a daily paper that gives me slightly more information than my NY Times and CNN headlines that I look at in my igoogle. It is ok though, because the Metro is my guilty little pleasure. I go to school with these elite newspaper people and I like the free sort-of-news I get every morning that I can read during my T ride. Stick it to the man, dude, stick it to the man!

So today I’m reading and happy and reading and happy and oh hey there Santa. Yes there amidst my guilty little pleasure was a paragraph about a study that said Santa’s cookie habit was promoting obesity. I was devastated. I am so sick and tired of people pinning their fatness on cultural icons. Santa has been fat since Coca Cola created his image in 1931, and as I recall obesity wasn’t that big of an issue in 1931.

Cookies and milk are fattening. I mean if Santa is supposed to eat a plate of them every house he goes to, that belly is not going to be hard to maintain. Treats are always around during this time of year. Like Santa we are greeted with a plate of cookies at every house. The key is to not try every kind of cookie (like I like to do), but instead to treat yourself to a cookie and then eat some of those cut up veggies that are always left untouched. You’ll probably actually be more excited about the prospect of the cookies if you don’t overdose every time you are greeted by them.

Now back to Santa. Guys the big man would be silly and slightly pedophilish as a skinny man. He is such a wonderful fat man, so putting him on a diet of veggies would be about as good of the idea of make the cookie monster the veggie monster. Yeah not so much.

I love cookies. I love chocolate. I love cake. Call me a bad example for the rest of the American population if you want, but I WILL NOT BE CHANGED. I am in love with sugar, but that does not mean that I have to overindulge. Santa only gets those cookies once a year. I think if you leave him some celery sticks you’ll probably get coal, but I’m just bffs with the big guy. What do I know?

Happy Eating!!!

Emily

Today’s high was 17. With the windchill it felt like 0. Right now I am staring at my weather.com thingy on my computer and it says tonight’s low is 8. Basically it might as well say IT IS FREAKING COLD OUTSIDE!!! I walked home breathing into my gloves and hoping that the warm air would keep my fingers from getting frostbite.

Thankfully I am inside for the rest of the night and tomorrow’s high looks like it is close to 30. “HEAT WAVE! This is our island in the sun!” If you can’t name that movie, I hope you are at home tonight and have access to The Muppet’s Christmas Carol. It’s obviously been too long since you last saw it. Anyway I hope you enjoy the fudge pictures. I packaged up a container for the registrar’s office party, one for my study group, one for Matt to take up to New Hampshire for Christmas (if it makes it up there), and one for me to sneak pieces of till I leave. It’s finals remember? If you consider fudge at $6 a pound, this recipe is a steal. I never actually weighed it, but you can package up at least 6 gifts depending on how generous you feel.

Happy Eating!!!

Emily

My life is booked. Yesterday I spent the majority of my day putzing around with all of the little pieces of homework. You know the things that should take like an hour, but when you have 4 of those little things for each class. A whole day later and I think the majority of the stuff is done. Now I can really focus on my ethics midterm. Yippee!

When life gets like this, I stress out about the littlest of things. Dinner is just a disaster. I was studying with a friend till 7 last night, got home around 8, and then had to find dinner. Thankfully I am a nut about saving leftovers.

I made my mom’s paprika potatoes on Monday night. They are just so tasty and I was roasting a chicken, so I decided that the oven was already going to be on for a while so I might as well go for it.

These potatoes are so good because they take some time. First I cubed up 3 large potatoes. I started a pot of water and when it came to a boil threw the potatoes in. I let them boil for maybe 10 minutes. The goal is not to cook the potatoes, but just to get them going. Then I drained the potatoes and threw them in a bowl where I tossed them with seasonings. I used paprika, Italian seasoning, basil, some garlic powder, adobo, and salt. Then I spread the potatoes out on a sheet pan and broke up a couple tablespoons of butter over them. I popped them into the oven while my chicken was roasting. The oven was set at 350 degrees Fahrenheit, but I bumped it up to 400 at the end so everything got nice and crispy. Stir the potatoes every 15 minutes or so. Towards the end make sure both sides are done and one side doesn’t get burned.

The best part of these potatoes is that they make a great omelet. If you are a normal person and have time for an omelet at breakfast, then they make a great breakfast. If you are like me, not-so-normal most of the time, they make a wonderful dinner. Throw the potatoes in the frying pan first so they have a chance to heat up. Add 3 eggs. I like to be real lazy and break up the eggs in the pan, but if you want to waste a bowl for whisking go for it. Add cheese at the end, and you will be full and happy.

Tonight I’m going to cut up the fudge I made Monday. Yeah I know better late than never. There will definitely be pictures and I’ll probably repost the recipe just in case you missed it. Hope your life is a little less stressful than mine right now.

Happy Eating!!!

Emily

I am a klutz. My dad always told me that my middle name should have been grace, so that I would have some grace in my life. Unfortunately for me, my dad did not have this revelation until the second time I cracked open my chin playing in the yard. Is it too late for a name change?

Matt loves to snowmobile. He grew up in New Hampshire, so it kind of makes sense. Unfortunately for him, I am a big fan of watching the snow FROM A WINDOW. When I was little I would go out, and come inside as soon as possible. I liked the snow. Ok let me rephrase I liked the idea of snow, but the actual cold wet stuff, eh not so much a fan.

Ever since I started dating Matt, he has talked about going snowmobiling with me. I gave it a try last winter with his sister, but for some reason Matt and I never went. Fast forward to this weekend. There is a foot of snow on the ground in NH and Matt was itching for some snowmobiling. Matt’s sister, knowing of my iffy background with life, decided it was smarter to let me ride on the back while she drove. Matt put me on the front and decided that I needed to drive. BAD IDEA!!!!

Round and round we go and I’m doing ok. Then I hit the gas and the GINORMOUS machine starts to tip. I really wasn’t terribly excited about the prospect of my right leg being crushed into a bazillion pieces so I bailed. Years of experience falling has given me a talent in bailing. Arms off and FALL. Yeah it’s a talent. Maybe I should be a stunt woman. They make a lot of money doing what I do on a daily basis.

The end result, Matt’s baby went into a rock. He will not be letting me drive again. I could have warned him, I tried to warn him, and now $70 later he has learned. It could have been much worse. I could have been hurt, or Matt. Neither of us are made of plastic and our parts don’t cost $70 to fix. My finger was jammed a little. It hurts a little if I use it too much, but it’s not terrible. My chin didn’t crack open.

On a lighter note I made a perfect batch of fudge. Maybe gracefulness isn’t needed in a kitchen. Or maybe things just make sense inside my kitchen. Outside there are icy sidewalks and bumps in the road. Potential hazards are all around me outside. In the kitchen I have a pot and a spoon, some knives yes, but I know how to use those, and things just makes sense.

Of course after I cleaned up my kitchen, made myself a cup of tea, and went to sit down on the couch I spilled boiling hot water all down my leg. Are you sure it’s not too late for a name change?

Happy Eating!!!

Emily

I see letters, words, paragraphs, and pages in my sleep. 5-7 pages to be exact. Everything has to be 5-7 pages. Some become 10. Some barely eek out 5. Some fall beautifully in the 6 category. Those don’t normally get privileged enough to receive dreams. Dreams are for the bad papers. The papers that make no sense. The papers that are completely incoherent and already 5 pages too long. Scrap it, dream for a week about it, and then rewrite it. Writers block? Ha! You have to be kidding this is more a case of writers diarrhea. It just keeps coming and coming and nothing is coming out solid. Ok I’m going to end that analogy before this becomes more visually nauseating than I already have made it.

I have obviously been drowning in papers. There really is nothing I can do about it. Little by little things are starting to come out ok. My ethics professor told me that he has not returned my second draft of my paper to me, because he could only find 2 things to fix and he knows if he looks a little deeper he can find more. Thaaaanks! I mean just what I always wanted; someone trying their hardest to find my errors.

I’m sure you are all wondering the result of this writers diarrhea on my every day life. I didn’t eat dinner till 9 p.m. last night. When I did eat, it was a three egg “omelet” with cheese. I use the word omelet lightly here because I don’t know if you can call three eggs scrambled slightly in the pan with adobo and cheese an omelet. It’s more or less scrambled eggs. I am literally at the stage in my stress where I don’t enjoy food. You know when you get the stomach flu and you never want to see another piece of food again. Yup I’m there and I get it just from writing too many papers.

Thankfully I am making strides at reducing the stress, achieving my goals, and beginning to enjoy food again.

Today I had a doughnut for breakfast. For lunch I went with Matt to Wendys. For dinner we are hitting up Pizza Hut. Greasy food might be terrible for you after a stomach flu, but after writers flu it hits the spot. Thankfully greasy food hits the spot for Matt every time, so I am always in luck.

Christmas is a stressful time of year whether you are in college and dealing with finals or not. There are Christmas cards to send out and cookies to bake. And presents to buy for your favorite blogger. (That is probably stressing you out more than anything.) It is rather easy to let all of the “holiday fun” leave us feeling emptied out and sick. Breathe and say no to making a Christmas card with a picture of you on it. We all just make fun of those. Let’s be honest with ourselves and end the narcissistic habit. Then eat lots of cookies, drink some hot cocoa, and pretend there is an awful snow storm and cancel all plans for at least a day.

Happy Eating!!!

Emily