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Greenery.

Last night, a couple of friends came over and we watched Tommy Wiseau's The Room, which is well on its way to going down in history as the Worst Movie Ever Made.  I don't even know how to describe it, other than to say that it awkwardly straddled the hitherto undiscovered and better-left-untread line between softcore porn and a high school play that has been roughly translated by a German kindergartener.

"LEAVE YOUR STUPID COMMENTS IN YOUR POCKET!"

Ahem.  Anyway.  Probably the funniest unintentionally funny movie I've ever seen.  You'll just have to see it for yourself, definitely with a few bottles of wine.

We also may or may not have binged on some incredibly satisfying Indian food last night (from Passage to India), and were in serious need of a little detox this morning.  So along with oatmeal and green tea, we had this:

                       (Before)                                              (After)

Hippie dippie.

The same part of me that prefers to start a new workout routine on Sundays has a secret love for New Year's resolutions.  And January 2010 is a double bonus -- the start of a new year and a new decade. 

Okay, so technically we didn't start until after we got back from Iowa (which barely happened, I might add, thanks to the snow dumping all over the Midwest last week).  On the 2010 agenda?  Cut refined sugar and eat more greens and fish. 

On Tuesday, the Girl and I cashed in our last two Crate & Barrel gift cards left from the wedding and bought a Breville compact juicer.  Total impulse buy.  It's amazing.  Yesterday we made two glasses of very basic juice: apples, honeydew, mint and kale.  This morning, I added to that mixture a handful of grape tomatoes and a carrot.  Delicious 6oz glass of power food that goes very well with my baked oatmeal bar (3 cups oatmeal, 2 3/4 cups skim milk, 1 cup egg white, 1/2 cup ground flaxseed, 1 tbsp cinnamon, 1 tbsp vanilla, baked for 65 minutes at 350 degrees, then cut into eight pieces) with some almond butter on top. 

I'm slightly embarrassed to admit it, but I actually really like it.  Partly because it's screamingly green and ridiculously healthy, but it really does taste great.  Maybe I hang out with too many Western Massachusetts folk...

Merriment.

Spiral ham with apricot mustard glaze; mini kebabs; zucchini and portobello mushroom lasagna; Italian stuffed breads (two hot sausage, one spinach); Israeli couscous salad with pomegranate seeds; artisanal cheeses; homemade white bean hummus and roasted red pepper hummus; mini pitas toasted with pesto and brie; spanikopita; roasted red pepper and black olive roll-ups;triple chocolate brownies; panettone; and, of course, the eggnog, raspberry mango punch, homemade wine and mulled cider.  

I'm going to gain approximately ten pounds tomorrow (mostly due to the chocolately concoction featured below), but hey, 'tis the season.

NO SOUP FOR YOU. (But lots for me.)

It's no secret I love soup.  Back at Cornell, the Sister and I would groggily hit up the Lincoln Cafe on Sundays for brunch.  And what did I look forward to more than the spicy chicken sandwich with extra caramelized onions and mayo on the side (for my french fries)?  Soup of the day, of course.

Tuesday night, the Wife roasted a chicken, so I took the carcass -- stripped of leftover meat -- and made my own stock with it.  I used to just boil it six ways to Sunday, but the Wife's brother insists that the pot should be in the oven instead of on the stove.  Something about even heating.  I think he may be on to something.  Anyway, I put Chicken Little in the oven at 200 degrees and forgot about him for about four hours, added a roughly chopped onion, leafy celery stalks, bay leaf, peppercorn and thyme, and left it to work for another two hours.

Once strained (through a cloth), it made for amazing broth.

I don't like watery soup.  I want something substantial.  So I roasted a pan of potatoes -- which I completely forgot about and burned the everliving hell out of, necessitating a quick walk to Whole Foods for another bag of spuds and a second, more successful attempt -- and garlic.  While that was going, I chopped up a few carrots and celery stalks, then pureed half the potatoes, all of the garlic and a can of cannellini beans (which I can never seem to spell) along with two cups of chicken stock.  Then I poured it all into the pot and fired up the burner.

Chopped some kale while that was heating up, which I eventually added to the pot -- after the soup had time to condense a bit -- along with the other half of my roasted potatoes (chopped small-ish), another can of cannellinis and the chicken meat.  After 30 minutes of simmering and salting to taste, I had the Wife top off the pot with some homemade dumplings (flour, eggs, milk, salt and baking soda).

The result?  Deliciousness.

O Oysters, said the Carpenter, you had a pleasant run!

Yesterday we attended and gorged ourselves at the annual International Seafood Exposition, which means -- you guessed it! -- I won't be pooping properly for at least a week. 

Hoo boy.

Honestly, I couldn't tell you everything we sampled, although the alligator does stand out in my mind (a little chewy for me, and I didn't like the creole seasoning) -- and the amazing Island Creek Oysters, too, which we've arranged to serve up at a lamb roast two nights before the wedding.  We didn't stick around long enough to meet Iron Chef Morimoto, but we did meet Ming Tsai very accidentally, and he seems a lot less of an ass in person than he did as a guest judge on Top Chef.  Probably because he offered a free bottle of his citrus tea rub.

Anyway, I more than ate my fill of raw and cooked alike, although the wine and Kettle One from the night before made the morning a little rough in that department.  We left a little earlier than last year and spent the rest of the afternoon alternating between the living room and our sun-drenched patio.

Saturday, the Girl was uncharacteristically decisive and picked out her wedding band -- at an Armenian jeweler's, no less.  I fully expected her to agonize for weeks over a handful of finalists.  Although, I think I was more surprised that I can't seem to find anything I really like.  Everything was too bulgy, too expensive, too shiny or too boring, and the rest had man-gems, which are entirely out of the question.

Who knew I was such a diva?  Oh well.  I'm sure I'll find something.

"It's the apple juice that's addictive as crack."

Seriously.  Iowa has no idea what it's missing: