We-Called-Off-Our-Wedding White Cake

There’s no cake. You’ve been had.

Remember when we were getting married?

That’s not happening anymore.

I’m not going to bore you with interesting, salacious details.

I’m not going to name names or point fingers.

(It was ChefBoy.)

However, I’m going to apologize for our inconsistency and general lack of high quality content.

I’m also going to admit that I occasionally struggle with depression.

During these darker periods I tend to give up on unimportant things like work, and people,
in favour of truly important things like crippling exhaustion, and mayonnaise.

Luckily, debilitating brain fog has helped me forget the worst of it and I can’t really explain what’s happened during these past few months.

I definitely can’t explain what it feels like to continue living with your ex-fiance.

And I sure-as-fuck can’t explain why recalling a friend’s story of a dead squirrel bleeding out onto a box of Pop Tarts made me laugh uncontrollably hard.

But I can explain that I finally felt something instead of the nothing I felt for too long.

So the next time you’re in a hazy pit of despair, staring into the void…

just remember you might hear a story about slain wildlife to inexplicably clear the fog a little.


ChefMan: or (Inadequacies Amplified)

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A ChefBoy no longer, he has become a ChefMan.

After grueling years of dedication and hard work (two traits I only exhibit when attempting to fit an entire burrito into my mouth) ChefMan is running a kitchen.

There’s nothing I love more than watching someone else succeed…

and then making their moment all about me.

It’s interesting to me when someone knew exactly what they wanted from a young age. Pursuing your passion, both academically and occupationally, with few doubts is a notion so alien to me.

I prefer to live within a paralyzing limbo of self-doubt, self-loathing, and confusion. Now couple these highly desirable characteristics (you’re into it) with piss-poor business instincts and crushing insecurity…

17dfbbc0-d3ff-11e4-9bed-12771640ddceHowever, ChefMan’s successes should be celebrated. He has sacrificed time, health, relationships and an incalculable amount of other things, all in the name of food.

These sacrifices will probably continue until his self-fulfilling prophecy of dying mid-service comes true.

Cooking is his passion, his first love, and it’s pretty inspiring to watch (even when it’s shining a light on my own perceived shortcomings).

Fly high ChefMan, fly high.

A3 Napoli

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A Rare Breakfast


Breakfast doesn’t happen too often in our household.

I make a smoothie, ChefBoy has his coffee.

Then we don’t see each other for 13 hours until we’re sitting in a restaurant booth at 1am, binge-eating lattice fries.

Starting a new job has put a little pep in ChefBoy’s step.

Along with the barrage of “THIS IS THE BEST DAY EVER!!!” texts I’ve been receiving, he’s happily darting out of bed to make us Nutella crepes.

(A welcome change from my spinach-y sludge ritual.)

Better yet, as a little gift for proofreading his resume, I’ve been promised a much needed manicure with his first paycheck.

In theory, I love looking at my hands and finding elegantly long, taloned fingers.

But the reality is this:


Long nails also make typing sound like there’s a hermit crab orgy happening on my keyboard.

Maybe I’ll ask him for some more lattice fries instead.


No Meat Here

Eggplant1-8240Since our last post failed like a Nakatomi Plaza company Christmas party, we decided to keep it simple this week.

ChefBoy whipped us up some fried eggplant with a spicy cherry tomato sauce and a shaved asparagus salad.

I’m generally unenthusiastic when I find out my meal is mainly comprised of veggies.whateverBut if you bread a vegetable and fry it, I will participate.

I also think eating donuts for breakfast is acceptable.



In summation, I should probably learn to get excited by all vegetables…not just the phallic ones amiright?

Fuck, I’m unhealthy.

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Meat and Cheese Platter Fail

meatcheese1We started this blog as a silly way to document ChefBoys culinary offerings to me.

The main goals have always been, “everything should look edible and pleasant” and “be truthful when something fails”.

This was such a fucking fail.

From the 1980’s vibe the photos evoked, to the stupid flags I insisted on skewering into the different cheeses. (Just in case we forgot mid-meal which cheese was blue.)

I didn’t even write the names of the different cheeses on the flags I made.

Go look, seriously.



Everything about this kind of bums me out.


So Much Ham

quiche2-8001While perusing the offerings at the St. Lawrence Farmer’s Market, ChefBoy had a large ham thrown at him.


Almost ten pounds of Mennonite ham flew over the deli counter into his arms from a very persuasive meat hawker.

There’s one born every minute.

Now, taking up almost an entire shelf in the fridge, there sits a giant ham.

For two weeks, we’ve eaten ham every day. Sliced thinly and fried for breakfast, generous ribbons of it on a charcuterie board, cubed into this quiche…

We haven’t even reached the halfway point. The ham just sits there, seemingly untouched, staring back at us.



Challenge accepted.



Blog’s Birthday (Sometimes I Make Stuff: Vol. 13)

quiche3-8072I have a short attention span.

I’ve attended three post-secondary institutions. All three (degrees and certificates respectively) remain incomplete.

I have an array of hobbies and interests but no true mastery of something.

I currently have 5 books I’m reading on rotation, knowing I’ll only finish one.

My entire childhood is littered with the remains of unfinished piano lessons, ballet, gymnastics, drama, painting, jazz, kickboxing, tennis, swimming, guitar, singing…

and a Harriet the Spy-ish faze where I just ran around spying on my neighbours.


In short, I can’t believe this blog has not only reached 50 posts, but has been around for an entire year.

Maybe it’s because cooking has to be done every day?

Maybe it’s because ChefBoy and I hold each other accountable?

Or maybe it’s because we love it and when you truly love something, you keep at it.

Either way, I’m so proud of this silly little space buried somewhere within infiniteness.

Here’s to another year.

Thank you for reading.

(Mini cakes were made from Pioneer Woman’s Best Chocolate Sheet Cake Ever. I used a round cookie cutter to punch out the layers and sandwiched them together with a Nutella buttercream. To the buttercream I added 4 oz of melted unsweetened chocolate and an additional pinch of salt.)


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