Photo Phriday: Of All the Starches in the World…

June 15, 2012 at 1:24 pm | Posted in Around Boston, In The Kitchen, Office Humor, Photo Phriday | 4 Comments
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Mmm, culinary awkwardness!  Today’s Photo Phriday is compliments of the usually-on-task café in Dark Water Fowl’s office building.  Notice anything odd?

This pairing just ain’t kosher…

How about a nice pilaf?

Of all the starches in the world, why they chose Israeli Cous Cous to pair with pork is beyond me!

Photo Phriday: Your Rabbi Is Delicious!

January 13, 2012 at 9:23 am | Posted in In The Kitchen, Office Humor | 2 Comments
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Everyone knows Jews are excellent cooks.  Latkes (goys say potato pancakes) are little fried pillows of heaven, brisket (southerners smoke it, but we make it saucy!) is practically an institution, and matzo ball soup is not only yummy, but also good for what ails ya.

Being a fairly experienced yid, I thought I was familiar with almost every heeb delicacy, but apparently I was wrong.  I have never, in my thirty-something years on G-d’s green Earth, seen, tasted or heard tell of “Broccoli Rabbi.”  But apparently I’ve been missing out.  Witness:

Menu Misspelling

I prefer Carrot Rabbi!

Sounds… umm… tasty?

P.S. Apparently another Jewish delicacy is also on this odd menu – sort of.  Pastromi?  Really?
It’s pastrami, fools.

Photo Phriday: It’s Beginning To Look A Lot Like (Tacky) Christmas

December 2, 2011 at 12:02 pm | Posted in Photo Phriday | 2 Comments
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As a yid, Christmas-time can be fraught with difficulties.  (Prepare your tiniest violin for me…)  December means: listening to radio stations being overtaken by Christmas music (it’s cute at first, but gets old really quickly); friends getting mounds of gifts in just one morning while my eight crazy nights barely hold a candle (punny, I know) to their loot; and being ignored by Santa even though I’m pretty sure I’ve been good all year.  Seriously – I don’t even get coal.

Dear reader(s), it isn’t easy for a heb like me.

But I’m always searching for silver linings.  On the plus side, I never had to sit on the lap of a beef and cheese smelling, pajama-clad old man in a department store; until I met my husband, I never had to fight the mall marauders for gifts; and I can fully enjoy holiday decorations without having to go through the trouble and expense of decking my halls… or roof… or yard.  Because let’s be honest: I love (looking at) outdoor Christmas decorations – and the tackier, the better!

I’m pretty sure the tackiest décor can be found in my old haunt, Somerville, Mass., where they make gaudy ornamentation an art!  Take, for example, this over-the-top home:

Tacky Christmas Decorations

Now THAT'S how decorating is done!

Isn’t it magnificent?!?  I’m pretty sure you can see this house from space!

I’m on the hunt for additional spotlightable homes!  If you happen to stumble upon similarly tacky décor, send it my way (tweet photos to @PR_SarahG) and I’ll share it on Factinis.

Happy December, dear reader(s)!

I Stabbed My Husband… OR, Passover 2011: Why Is This Night Different From All Other Nights?

April 19, 2011 at 4:30 pm | Posted in Heebs, Married Life | 12 Comments
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Last night I stabbed my husband. 
In the thigh. 
With an EpiPen. 
And then the police and EMTs paid us a house call and took us away with sirens a-blarin’.

Now, before I get into the details, I want to assure you all that Andrew is doing well, so don’t panic!  He’s tired, bruised (I really clocked him!), and doping just like his major league heroes (poppin’ those ‘roids like a champ), but considering what could have happened, he’s on the mend and feeling pretty darn good. 

It all started with a well-meaning Passover Seder, a ceremony in which we Yids retell the story of the Exodus to remind ourselves how lucky we are today, and how much work we have left to do in the world to help others who are less fortunate.  My dad (a.k.a. Rhymes-With-Father-of-the-Bride, or RWFOTB, for you abbreviators) and brother decided to shake things up this year and encourage us all not only to participate in the service, but to really challenge ourselves to experience the Exodus. 

Apparently my good Catholic husband inadvertently took that a little too seriously (but gosh, I love him even more for participating).  Either that or he’d do almost anything to avoid matzo…

‘Whoodles, a little miscommunication triggered an allergic reaction to nuts, which led to my stabbing Andrew in the thigh with epinephrine, which gave emergency personnel in West Hartford a little something to do on a quiet Monday evening, which necessitated a harrowing ambulance ride, and culminated in a glorious almost six hours in the emergency room waiting around and wishing we were noshing on my momma’s famous brisket, my aunt Shirley’s soothing matzo ball soup, and my craveable chocolate and caramel covered matzo.  As we Heebs say: Dayenu! 

Happy matzo to all, and to all a good night!

Sexy Envelopes

March 8, 2011 at 8:54 am | Posted in Around Boston, Married Life | 2 Comments
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A few weeks ago an awkward delivery guy brought me a 9″ x 11″ (padded) envelope.

“Ma’am, ummm, this is, ummm, for you…” He said, as he gingerly handed the parcel to me with a sheepish grin, lack of eye contact, and borderline creepy chuckle.

I took the envelope and thanked him, but he just stood there, almost like he wanted to ask me something. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“No… I, ummm… sorry,” he said as he finally turned to go, after sneaking a second look at my “personality.”

I closed the door, threw the envelope on the counter, and continued whatever I was doing at the time (probably cleaning – our apartment feels like it is in a constant state of disarray these days).

Later that night, Andrew noticed the envelope – and by that I mean that when he inquired if I had ordered something “in particular,” he looked a little… intrigued… But again, I was far too busy to pay attention, and I assumed his look implied that he thought I was spending money frivolously, or that I was involved in some sort of questionable tomfoolery (because let’s be honest: when is my tomfoolery not questionable?).

Well, the day before we left for Costa Rica, I finally went to open the envelope and realized what all the fuss was about: the return address was a company called “In the Mood Intimates.”  The delivery fella was probably using his imagination to figure out what I might have ordered, and Andrew was probably wondering if I was planning ahead for our honeymoon (which we haven’t even scheduled yet! The reign of the “bad bride” continues).

Well, dear reader(s), my life is an open book to you, and I have no shame  very little shame, so if you’re as curious as that delivery guy and want in on my dirty little secret, here goes…

I ordered a new pair of Spanx for my brother’s wedding extravaganza. My dress for “white night” (imagine P. Diddy as a Yid and you’ll get the idea) felt a little snug, so I turned to the gods of faux-svelte-ness for help. The envelope had an unabashedly unsexy pair of Spanx – and that’s as intimate as a gal can get, if you ask me!

While I wasn’t sorry to disappoint the creepy delivery guy, and I am pleased to say that I didn’t spend any frivolous cash (gentlemen, a piece of advice: never question financial expenditures related to Spanx – no good can come of that discussion! You WILL accidentally call your lady a porker and be in gigantic trouble), I’m most pleased to report that my white outfit zipped… eventually 😉


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