Day 7: Sweet Potato Lentil Carrot Puree (Jabba Want Some)

Sweet Potato Apple Lentil Carrot Puree with Greek Yogurt Topping

Status: Homemade

Satisfaction: 7

Associated with: Jabba the Hut

I didn't want to go there. But I did. 

Tell me that purees don't look a glop of who-knows-what run through a who-knows-where. Say it with a straight face--I bet you three Yoda live action figures you can't do it.

If I've ruined your appetite, at least you'll have the satisfaction of knowing that mine has been sufficiently ruined, too.

May the force be with you.

Day 6: Family-Style Tofu Eggplant (Speaks for Itself)

Day 6: Chinese Family-Style Tofu Eggplant

Status: Homemade (leftovers)

Satisfaction: 8. All tofu is good tofu!

Associated with: Sheer Bliss.

Tofu, eggplant, and deliciousness.

I have nothing more substantive to add.

Day 5: Spinach Enchilada (a la Corn Industry)

Spinach Enchilada (with Corn in it)

Status: Restaurant/Leftovers (Taberna Mexican)

Satisfaction: 6. Filling, but not terribly exciting after a trip to from the fridge to the microwave.

Associated with: Michael Pollen's The Omnivore's Dilemma

When I ordered a spinach enchilada off the menu, I was expecting a spinach enchilada, like any reasonable person might--I was definitely not ready, however, for the spinach-and-canned-corn stacked-layers-of-corn-tortilla heap that actually arrived on my plate. But there it sat, screaming the four-letter swear word that Pollan discusses at length in his book: Corn. Talk about slipping this over-subsidized crop into everything imaginable--our bread, our cereal, our happy meals--and now, apparently, our enchiladas.

Congratulations, America's lobbyists, you have just managed to outstrip Taco Bell in redefining the meaning of Mexican Food on this side of the border.

Day 4: Falafel Wrap (Please Stop that Dynne)

Day 4: Falafel Hummus Tzatziki Veggie Wrap

Status: Restaurant (Panini Cafe)

Satisfaction: 8. A good, solid falafel fix.

Associated With: The Phantom Tollbooth (the Awful Dynne)

Try saying the word "falafel" slowly out loud. Falafel.

Now try saying it five times at a moderate speed (or, for that matter, try typing it five times in a row--it messes with your brain). Falafel falafel falafel falafel falafel.

What you probably got, if you were saying it right, was probably something like "flahhfull." Or, if you slow it down just a bit more like I do, you'll get something that sounds like "felt awful"--which, for a food name, is not a terribly appealing one.

Nevertheless, that's just what you get. Felt awful. And anytime anybody talks about anything being awful, my mind inevitably pops to the Awful Dynne. You know the one...

"What is a DYNNE?" asked Milo when he had recovered from the shock of seeing him appear.

"You mean you've never met the awful DYNNE before?" said Dr. Dischord in a surprised tone. "Why, I thought everyone had. When you're playing in your room and making a great amount of noise, what do they tell you to stop?"

"That awful din," admitted Milo. 

"When the neighbors are playing their radio too loud, late at night, what do you wish they'd turn down?"

"That awful din," answered Tock.

"When the street on your block is being repaired and the pneumatic drills are working all day, what does everyone complain of?"

"The dreadful row," volunteered the Humbug brightly.

"The dreadful RAUW," cried the anguished DYNNE, "was my grandfather. He perished in the great silence epidemic of 1712."

So there you have it. I wouldn't be surprised if, with such a terrible-sounding name, falafels make a din--excuse me, Dynne--all of their own.

Day 3: Greek Yogurt Fruit Parfait (You Americanists Will Appreciate This)

Greek Yogurt Parfait with Kashi Cereal and Fruit

Status: Homemade but repackaged in typical impoverished grad student fashion (i.e. a saved plastic Starbucks cup). Eaten at a Starbucks location without having purchased anything there, but still maintaining appearances of being a patron. Money-saving win.

Satisfaction: 7. Love parfaits. Solid start to every single day.

Associated with: Moby Dick

Holy whale! I can feel Melville rolling in his grave already. The connection here is (if you haven't already figured it out) not the food, but the packaging--cue Starbuck the sailor man. You know you're in a grad student when you have reused a cheap, not-made-to-be-reused flimsy plastic cup every time you need to make a parfait for on-the-go; and you know you're in the English department when the first thing it reminds you of is canonical nautical literature. 

And I will say now that no, I still haven't read Moby Dick and yes, I can still be a respectable English literature scholar without having done so. Take a shot at me with your harpoons if you dare, Americanists. I double dog dare you.

Day 2: Apple Walnut Mango Vinaigrette Salad...with Veggie Burger Strips (Makes the Vegetables Cry)

Apple Walnut Mango Vinaigrette Salad w/Veggie Burger Strips

Status: Restaurant (Novel Cafe)

Satisfaction: 8. Nutty and light, hit the spot.

Associated with: The Save the Vegetables Movement.

Every time I order a meat substitute at a restaurant, it reminds me of the poor voiceless millions upon millions of vegetables and fruits every year that are mercilessly slaughtered in the name of vegetarianism. Now, they're asking to be heard.

Save the vegetables.


And yes, I do own this t-shirt.

Day 1: Kahlua Flan (Gotta Catch 'Em All!)

Kahlua Flan

Status: Restaurant (Taberna Mexican)

Satisfaction: 10. Creamy and amazing.

From Saturday, 3/3/12

Associated with: Pokemon (Grimer and Muk)

Yep, that's exactly what I think of when the word "flan" pops up in everyday conversation. So the next time you want to take me out to eat dessert (an idea to which I remain completely unopposed), and the dessert choice is flan, not only will I associate our meal with the aesthetically pleasing Pokemon shown above--I will probably forever associate you with them, too. You might even find that you feel the same way after reading this.

As long as you don't mind that, though, I'm always down for some free flan.