Costco, Rotisserie Chicken, and Spicy Margies (Or How to Make a Jalapeno Margarita)

So, I went to Costco on Sunday. When I was starving. After yoga.

#epicfail

I consider it a personal triumph that I didn’t walk out of the place carrying 42 crab legs, 55 pineapples, and 14 rib eyes. The fact that my only unplanned purchases were a rotisserie chicken and a pink polka dotted beach towel is nothing short of remarkable.

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Coscto is so amazing.

I’ll be honest — the whole outing was sort of a mess. I mean, I was that cranky sort of hungry that makes me violent inside. Plus everyone in the store was extra fat and slow, and they were all letting their nine-years old push the double wide cart, which never goes well for anyone. I mostly held it together, though. (I think.)

As long as I’m being all truthful, I should also probably admit that I nearly tore into that unplanned rotisserie chicken the minute I got into my car like some sort of savage, but I thought better of myself and opted for a can of V-8 instead. (Those rotisserie chickens are greasy. Truth.)

Aaaanyway, I now possess more canned tomatoes than any single person should, so I thought I’d make some chili. This turned into I-should-also-make-quesadillas-and-salsa-verde. Oh and jalapeno margaritas.

Who doesn’t love a spicy margy?

I mean…

Since I had to rush off to USC for this fabulous TWIN PEAKS retrospective, I decided to start marinating my jalapeño slices in tequila before I left. (BTW, If you don’t know about Bob and the Black Lodge, get on that s#*@ now. You can thank me later.)

Of course the SAG Awards were on campus the same day as the TWIN PEAKS screening, so it was an absolute nightmare getting to my event. Every entrance onto campus from Fig was blocked off, there were cavalcades of Escalades and town cars converging from all directions, and I had to park absolutely miles away from campus. I may have even had to run in riding boots, but I made it the theater before the first bar of Angelo Badalamenti’s moving score.

Meanwhile, my margies were marinating at home.

So that was my Sunday. Truly riveting, right?

Aaaanyway, if you like a little kick with your drink, here’s how you can make a spicy margy.

Jalapeno Margaritas

6 oz tequila
4 oz fresh squeezed lime juice
4 oz triple sec
1 fresh jalapeno
Ice cubes

Slice one fresh jalapeno into thin slices.

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Jalapeno slices. Riveting.

Place the slices into tequila and allow the chiles to marinate for a least one hour. (The longer you let the chiles sit, the spicier your margy.)

Strain the tequila to remove the seeds and jalapeno slices.

Pour the tequila, fresh lime juice, and triple sec into a shaker. Add ice and shake vigorously. Pour into a glass and serve. Garnish with jalapeño slices for a little flair.

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Drink. And repeat. But not too many times. You probably have to work in the morning.

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I’m a 13-Year Old Girl (Or This Adolescent is Planning Another Baby Shower)

I love free food. (We’ve established this.) Yesterday I was choking down my chana masala, not really in the mood for it, when one of my coworkers mentioned there was leftover food in the kitchen. Obviously I ran down the hall to investigate. When I entered the room, I discovered brown paper boxes lining the counter. I grabbed the box labeled “Spicy Italian Sandwich” and returned to my desk with my salami swag.

Upon opening the box I discovered an entire lunch had been packed inside. “There are chips in here!” I exclaimed gleefully. I was happily unpacking the other contents of the box when my coworker asked, “Anika, is your father still around?”

“He is.”

“You must bring him endless joy… because there is a part of you that will always be a 13-year old girl.”

“That’s probably why he has so many shotguns,” I replied, picking the tomato slices off of my sandwich. I wasn’t really sure where he was going with this train of thought, but my first reaction is usually to make a joke if I can.

“Well, I don’t know about that, but the way you got so excited about the chips… it was adorable. Tell him the dad in the office said so. He’ll know what I mean.” At this point I was about fifteen shades of crimson, because I’m a WASP and genuine, heartfelt statements like this make me blush. But it was sweet. And I have to admit he wasn’t wrong. I will probably always be a bit of a kid inside.

That’s why it’s hard for me to take down my Christmas decorations every year. I hate the idea of shoving all of that pretty, sparkly stuff into some dark closet. I absolutely had to force myself to do it last weekend. I mean, I think I died a little inside when I had to take the Cynthia Rowley sweater off of my vodka bottle.

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He was so cute and toasty in his sweater.

Now he’s naked. And Ordinary.

And my polar bear bearing candy?

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So generous. And regal.

He’s back in a closet. Crying ‘cuz he’s not handing out licorice in my living room.

But it’s time to move on. I get that.

I know I can’t hang on to the season that has past or I might miss what the new season has in store. I honestly don’t know what this spring will bring because absolutely everything in my life is up in the air, but I do know I’m planning a baby shower for one of my best friends. And that’s pretty awesome.

It involves elephants. For real.

See?

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Photo courtesy of Paperless Post

I’m trying so hard not to do this to the dessert table.

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Photo courtesy of Martha. Obviously.

We’ll see if restraint preveals, ‘cuz this is all kinds of cute, right? (Plus it brings back polar bears.)

If you want to see what else is percolating in my party planning brain, you can check out this pinterest board.

Soon we’ll discuss my bedroom situation because I decided arson wasn’t the answer.

Brad Pitt with a Dash of Sea Salt (Or I Made Chocolate Chunk Cookies with Sea Salt)

So, I was at work — brainstorming about Brad Pitt — ‘cuz that’s what I do for a living. The other site producers and I were kicking around the idea of an “Evolution of Brad” gallery.

During the brainstorm I emphatically announce, “The hottest Brad Pitt has ever been? Hands down: Billy Beane in Moneyball.”

Quizzical looks all around.

No one is convinced. So I pull up this picture.

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I mean, right? DYING over here. Photo courtesy of Columbia Pictures.

My colleague, Vijaya, looks at the photo for a moment. A slightly perplexed look crosses her face before she turns to me and says, a little disgusted, “I think you’re ready for the suburbs.”

“I do own pearls,” I reply, the truth of it all starting to set in.

Not only do I own pearls, but I actually wear them. Maybe I am ready for the suburbs….

(Point Vijaya.)

If you’re wondering what all of this has to do with food and the actual point of this blog, the segue in my head is that I wore said pearls to a dinner party last weekend. With my Nancy Reagan dress. (Wow, I should probably start packing for Newport now.)

So, anyway, the dinner party. My friend made a fabulous Polish feast, complete with kielbasa, sauerkraut and pierogis slathered in sour cream, and I volunteered to bring the dessert. Because I can’t stop myself from going absolutely overboard with baked goods I made this chocolate stout cake and these chocolate chunk cookies with sea salt. I saw the cookie recipe in the January Bon Appetit and I was dying to try them. You probably should as well. They’re pretty awesome.

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These cookies don’t look nearly as delicious as Brad Pitt in a polo but it’s because I’m a lousy food photographer. They’re divine.

I swear to all that is holy I will try to blog more even if I am at the office talking about Brad Pitt until 8 pm absolutely all the time.

Tomorrow we should probably talk about the state of my freezer. It’s grim.