Archive for June, 2009

June 24th, 2009 Uncategorized | Leave a comment !



I was browsing FaceBook photos and came across some pictures of my friend Anton and his girlfriend Yoojung cooking up a lobster dinner. They were so sexy and fun that I soon realized lobster is another classic cfc dish.  


Firstly, cooking lobster is just so damn primal.  The live lobster, the butter, the cracking, the sucking… 


Secondly, your cock gets to feel all-brave and strong while you tear up at Mr. Lobster ‘s imminent demise in a pot of boiling water. My ex Architect Cock loved cooking lobster.  It was always a big event.  Grave, scary, life and death in your hands. I’d always look away when the deed was being done, protest, regret, tear up a little, then pig out without shame.   And even if you flip the stereotypes and your cock is the squeamish one, it’s still a thrilling way for boys and girls to get to know each other through food.

June 23rd, 2009 Uncategorized | Leave a comment !

Last night, while making pasta, the F.C. sprung the idea of us living together. Another reason to cook. It’s always there for you in a crisis. You can chop and boil and act preoccupied as your insides start fluttering with confusion. I was completely floored.


I was making a simple pasta dish;  using jarred sauce and fried zucchini.  It’s a comforting no-fuss meal I usually cook for myself and/or someone I don’t need to impress. In other words, perfect living-together fare. And last night, it tasted better then ever.


As we ate, my mind flooded with questions. Was he serious? I can’t believe he’s even proposing it! That’s great. That’s terrible! Is it too soon to be shacking up? What about our age difference? And my ex in Toronto who still loves me? What should I say? Is there a recipe to follow?


I don’t know the answers. But I do know I‘ll be making this pasta dish again soon. It’s really deelish.


Living Together Pasta






Half jar of your favourite pasta sauce (I used Master’s Choice house brand, Garlic and Mushroom)
Two-three medium sized zucchini, sliced in quarter inch thick half moons.
Spagetti (enough for three-four servings, enouhg for lunch the next day.)
Olive Oil
Garlic, two cloves

Two tablespoons grated parmesan.




1. Cook pasta per directions on package.

2. Meawhile,  heat olive oil in pan. Add sliced zucchini and brown on both sides, about three-four minutes per side.

3. When pasta is ready, drain and return to pot, mixing in a cup of the tomato sauce. (Don’t drown the pasta in sauce, just enough for a nice coating.)

4. Place fried zuchinni on top. Sprinkle with grated parmesan.


Serve with Garlic bread on the side (Optional).

June 22nd, 2009 Uncategorized | Leave a comment !







Just like dating, cooking is about experimenting;  trying a new dish, failing and (hopefully) learning as you go. Here’s what I learned trying to bake chocolate cherry cupcakes for my special anniversary dinner with the F.C. 



1. Don’t let your cupcakes be cuter than you. Because I was so rushed, shopping for both the main course dinner and figuring out the cupcake recipe, by the time the French cock got to my place for dinner, I looked like hell. No pretty dress. No make-up, just a harried look at my face. My apartment was equally unappetizing. No candles. No music. Recipe print-outs and food everywhere. Hardly a venue for a romantic dinner for two. 



2. Don’t try to reinvent the cupcake. Because I wanted to use fresh cherries, and most of the cupcake recipes I found on the Net called for cherry jam (like Nigella’s famous one) I was determined to improvise. But after much mixing and matching when my cupcakes were finally done they weren’t nearly sweet enough, and the cream cheese icing I “cherry-picked” failed to impress the FC who doesn’t believe in mixing cheese with chocolate (and I think I agree.) 



3. Two people do not need to eat 12 cupcakes unless they have a co-dependent eating disorder or the metabolism of a 12 year old boy. Stupidly, I kept test-tasting my cupcakes, as though with each bite the cupcakes would get better (just like the ex boyfriend I keep going back to.) They didn’t. Then I felt nauseous and bloated from eating so many. My cock, who’s passion for chocolate knows no know bounds, ate seven, un-iced, which can’t be very good for him either.



4. Always let your cock eat your cherry. My cock accidentally ate my reserved cherries for garnish, causing me to bark at him— not a very romantic anniversary gesture.  



Always let your cock eat your cherry.


The “Eat My Cherry”  Chocolate Cupcake


Though my French Cock (kindly) said he loved these cupcakes as I originally made them — he ate seven – I going to make the necessary “corrections” to help this sultry cupcake live up to its true potential. I’ll post the recipe when it’s done, so stay tuned.


June 18th, 2009 Uncategorized | 3 Comments


The F.C. is crazy about chocolate.  The F.C. loves chocolate more than any of my most ardent chocolate-loving girlfriends. Some days I think the F.C. loves chocolate more than me. It’s an addiction.  He’ll do anything for a hit. And he’s selfish too. If I buy one bar for us to share, he’ll eat the whole thing without a trace of remorse.  If I take it away from him, he’ll pout like a girl. He also reaches for it when he’s in a funk.  I think it might even by cyclical. Shit–  Does the F.C. have PMS??!


But I’ve decided to accept his feminine predilection for chocolate because I know it’s this same side that makes him enjoy sappy movies (he teared up at The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants)  and say things like,  “We are so lucky to be with each other,’  and carry my purse  (he says it’s just to help me).


So to honour the girl in the man,  and also our anniversary (he’s the one counting the days)  I going to make a special chocolate treat, because real men are complex romantic creatures who deserve to have PMS too.

June 18th, 2009 Uncategorized | Comments Off on Help! Love is making me fat.

Go to the recipe



When you’ve finally scored some premium cock, it’s like everyday is Valentine’s Day. For me, this means eating rich candlelit dinners almost every night of the week.  It’s like being in love makes you want to feast and celebrate 24/7. Okay, now I know sex burns some calories, but trust me, it’s not enough because ever since I met the new cock in my life,  I’ve been seriously packing on the pounds.  It’s time to get things under control.  Plus I’m going to the South of France (!!)  in July and I need to look my bikini-best.


To get my diet back under control I pulled out a recipe I got from my health-conscious friend Margo Ducharme, a NYC based make up artist and serious cock-lover. What I like about her salad is the flexibility; once you get the gist of it, you can build your own version.  Plus, the red quinoa makes the dish so lush and sexy-looking (there should be a “red quinoa” shade of lipstick!) that fact you’re getting all the vitamins and fibre you need is just a bonus. It also has a hot/cold component that makes it even more complex and sensual.


Despite the healthy vibe,  men snarf it up like a plate of ground beef poutine.    I think it’s because the quinoa has a chewy meat quality that keeps even the more carnivorous cock happy.    



See? Red quinoa would make an awesome shade of lipstick.

See? Red quinoa would make an awesome shade of lipstick.








Quinoa Kissed Salad



I make a pilaf out of the quinoa for this recipe, but you can also just sprinkle plain cooked quinoa on top too. If you make up a big batch of quinoa, you can use some during the week for more salads or as a sidedish for meat dishes, or bed for chili.




The Quinoa Pilaf


1 cup quinoa (red, but the standard beige is okay too, which is what I used in the pic)
2 cups water (or stock for more flavour)
5-7 sun-dried tomatoes (the dry bulk ones, not in liquid or oil) chopped roughly.
1 leek, cleaned and chopped
1 celery stalk, chopped
1 red pepper, chopped (optional)
1 cup chopped mushrooms (optional)
1 tablespoon olive oil


Cold Salad Base


Two cups baby spinach
1 tomato sliced in wedges
1/2 avocado, sliced
1/2 cup sliced cucumber
1/2 cup organic frozen peas, cooked

Vinaigrette (I like the Wafu Light Japanese dressing for this, but you can make your own. Anything works, you’ll see!)



1. Add 1 cup quinoa and 2 cups water (or stock) in a small-medium sized pot. Bring to a boil and simmer, covered, for 20 minutes.

2. Meanwhile, heat olive oil in the pan, sautee celery, leeks, peppers and sun-dried tomatoes on med-high for 4 minutes. Add mushrooms. Cook another 4 minutes.

3. Add the cooked quinoa and mix.

4. On 2 plates, lay out a handful of baby spinach leaves. Place warm quinoa pilaf on top. Garnish with whatever veggies you like; chopped tomatoes, cucumber, avocado, a sprinkle of organic peas (Margo’s fave). Whatever you’ve got in your fridge or pantry will work.

5. Drizzle vinaigrette on top, being mindful that dressing adds calories.

As an additional salad layer, I sometimes fry up sliced tofu and lay it on top of the quinoa (about 4 small cubes or rectangles per salad.) Again, if you fry up extra, you can use the same salad materials all week.)



I used regular white quinoa here, which though less pretty, makes the deep red sun-dried tomatoes pop.


June 18th, 2009 Uncategorized | Leave a comment !



Last night my friend and fellow cooking-fan Anton and I were discussing the cooking for cock philosophy. Anton was particularly drawn to the idea that cooking is dangerous.  He instantly recalled his experience  trying to deep fry a whole turkey and how the boiling hot oil spattered everywhere, on his arms, in his face.  It totally freaked him out.


I agreed. Of course cooking can be very dangerous. Cooking means fire means you get can burned. Remember in the Sopranos when Tony’s mistress catches on fire while trying to cook him dinner?  I also know a guy who set his pants on fire during a fondue (note: another reason not to wear polyester.)  I myself am nursing two kitchen burns as  I write this.  



But wait a sec– You can deep fry a whole turkey?!


Curious about Anton’s “dangerous” recipe,  I decide to google it. Here’s what I find: Deep fried turkey is very popular in the southern United States (no surprise there) and the frying process makes the turkey crispy on the outside, moist and juicy on the inside. Sounds good enough to me. But then I watch a video recipe where the list of required utensils includes having a  protective fireproof jacket and gloves. It also says to keep a fire extinguisher on hand and to do the frying outdoors, since several people have apparently burned down their houses trying to fry a turkey indoors. (


Fireproof jacket: Throw this over your cocktail dress to prevent burning.  Your cock might actually find it cute! The worthwhile ones anyway...

Fireproof jacket: Throw this over your cocktail dress to prevent burning. Your cock might actually find it cute! The worthwhile ones anyway...




Personally I would add two more safety measures,  firstly, “Do not do this if you’ve been drinking,”  and secondly, “Do not do this at all.”  I mean, when cooking starts to feel like absestos removal, why bother? 


In dating terms, deep fried turkey is that sexy white trash guy in the bar with the hot bod and missing tooth who wants to take you home: it’s slightly appealing, but not worth the risk.  (And I’ve seen enough turkeys to know.) Plus,  cooking for cock means always looking your best and who can look good in a third degree face burn?


But I guess when you’re drawn to a recipe, or a person like Tony Soprano, or my younger-than-me French Cock,  or even Anton (who’s burned a few girls in his lifetime) sometimes you just have to take chances. Like in love, finding the perfect dish is a dangerous job.  


Just try not to get burned.


Anton looks harmless, reading Martha Stewart at my friend Peter's chalet.

Anton looks harmless, reading Martha Stewart at my friend Peter's chalet.

June 17th, 2009 Uncategorized | Leave a comment !

I lost my virginity when I was thirteen years old.   Her name was Caroline, a really cool seventeen year old who used to wear vintage cardigan sweaters with only one button done up (the second one down from the top.)


Caroline wasn’t in a clique but she had this air of independence, like she was completely content with herself. She also had a hot twentysomething boyfriend who drove an old Mercedes and wore fedoras. To me she had it all. So I start copying her sweater-look and we became friends.  (Luckily she was cool enough to see imitation as a form of flattery, and didn’t mind having a younger friend.)


One day after school Caroline invites me to her house; an amazing Arts and Crafts bungalow in the old part of town (a far cry from the 70s suburban split level I called home.)  We hang out in her “studio” a small room in the basement full of scarves and interesting pictures, Sitting close together on the floor cushions, Caroline shows me drawings from her sketchbook then forces me to recite some of my poetry (squeezing my leg at all the good parts.)  That’s when her hot boyfriend arrives and Caroline asks if I’d like to join them for dinner.  I shake my head, not wanting to impose,  but she insists.  Caroline goes upstairs and “Robert”  lights some candles, which impresses me (in my house, candles were for Thanksgiving and Christmas- this was just another  Tuesday night!). As Robert plays a silly song on Caroline’s guitar I quickly realize I’m in love with both of them.


Moments later Caroline comes back with three beautiful ceramic bowls each filled with this gorgeous- looking vegetarian chilli  on a bed of brown rice.  It’s sprinkled with green stuff (coriander, a herb I hadn’t met yet) and cheddar cheese.  She proudly says she made it herself,  which blows my mind (up until then, just like sex, I thought cooking was for was adults only.)


As I devour the chilli, exotic flavours dancing in my mouth, Robert gives Caroline a deep long kiss. I try not to stare, but I do.


Okay, technically I didn’t lose my virginity that night, but I did get rid of my old fashioned idea of cooking: that it was a boring thing for stay-at-home Moms. No. Cooking was sexy, and, in Caroline’s case, it could get you some pretty amazing cock.

June 14th, 2009 Uncategorized | Leave a comment !


My sister used to hate the idea of spending the night anywhere without a hair dryer. Her hubby was always complaining about the amount of baggage she used to travel with (and make him carry.) Needless to say camping wasn’t her thing.  Neither was her marriage, which ended badly.


So when the F.C. wanted to go on an overnight camping trip in an abandoned trailer park outside Montreal, I decided to keep it chill. Instead of packing up my entire kitchen, I opted for a few basics; coffee filter and paper liners, two small mugs, a small cooler-bag for the beer, and my sassy little red camping pot (for boiling water.)  En route, we picked up hot dogs, buns, a few condiments, chips and cookies.  It wasn’t easy for me, resisting the desire for some more gourmet food. But I did.



We ate hotdogs for dinner and breakfast  — the breakfast dogs tasted the best, and the FC was very impressed when I whipped up a batch of fresh coffee (our only luxury.)  In fact, if I hadn’t kept the FC up half the night with my fears that we were going to be attacked by a trailer park serial killer, I passed the camping test with flying colours.

The F.C. lights my fire.

The F.C. lights my fire.


Home of campground serial killer.  I mean, why else do the place close down? I know there's a story there.

Home of campground serial killer.


Hot Dog Heaven


My mom showed me the best way to dress up a basic hot dog, by adding a simple homemade relish of chopped onion and tomato. With a little mustard squirt, it’s the perfect dog for your dog.




One package hot dogs.
One package white hot dog buns.


For the relish:


1 medium tomato diced
1/4 cup chopped onion.




Combine chopped tomato and onion in bowl or storage container (if you’re going camping.)


On your toasted bun, place cooked hot dog adding two spoonfuls of the simple relish and a few squirts of your favourite mustard. Voila!

June 13th, 2009 Uncategorized | Leave a comment !


Doesn't the F.C. look proud in his 75 dollar car?

Doesn't the F.C. look proud in his 75 dollar car?



Finally payback for all those lunches and dinners.  In his brand new used Chevy (75 dollars???)  the French Cock will now have to drive me anywhere I want! Next stop? Ikea.


I cook. He conduires.