Mary Katherine Gallagher and Salad Without Dressing

Elise from the Attic is a weekly infrequent blog post from my sister Elise who is currently kicking up her heels and studying her ass off in Kentucky. She is a fashionista and a lunatic, but we love her. Mostly. Here is this week's edition of:

I am a superstar.

No, I don't mean I fancy myself amazingly fantastic (though I wouldn't be quick to argue with someone who did).

What I mean is, I am highly attuned to taste. Supposedly, a quarter of the population experiences the four basic tastes, sweet, salty, sour and bitter, stronger than the other three fourths of the population, meaning a high amount of any one of these tastes could be unappetizing. And I kid you not, the chemists who discovered this phenomenon named this quarter of our population, in which I include myself, superstars. And yes, while I was reading this in my biology textbook I pictured Mary Katherine Gallagher, down on one knee, smelling her hands, etc.

But back to my point, my favorite flavor is bland. It bothers my culinarily gifted sister, who did a half ass job of hiding her annoyance with me last weekend as she served me a salad, aka bowl of plain lettuce, no croutons, no vegetables, no dressing.

Look at it this way my dear sister, you can now officialy take my disliking of your flavorful creations as a compliment. 

Just don't hate me because I'm a Superstar.

Maybe she's premed so she can take care of her geriatric booty call?

Elise from the Attic is a weekly blog post from my sister Elise who is currently kicking up her heels and studying her ass off in Kentucky. She is a fashionista and a lunatic, but we love her. Mostly. Here is this week's edition of:

Please don't hate me for bailing on you last week. I was stressed to the max and my brain was overflowing with evolutionary theories and sociological terms, nothing you would have enjoyed reading about, I promise.

While I was hitting the books hard at the library though I did allow myself the slight pleasure of a little good hearted eavesdropping. I didn't feel bad at all because the girl was in no way trying to keep her voice down though I was in plain sight five feet from her and the poor boy whose ear she was talking off. You can always tell the students who are just at the library for social reasons or doing some mundane work compared to those who are actually studying for an exam or a paper. I was obviously a member of the latter group; my hair was in a ponytail that I had thrown up three days prior, I was wearing blue sweatpants with the elastic at the ankles still in tact, black fuzzy socks and my off white moccasins. I hadn't even bothered to wash the scar cream from the previous night off of my forehead before leaving my room.  {Michelle here.  Allow me to interject just a minute... ummm the scar cream on her forehead was from a zit the size of Mt Vesuvius at New Year.  Dave named it.  Zeke.}

I know she noticed this at first glance but, she continued to talk about the man that she was secretly meeting up with and kept assuring this boy that he wasn't that much older. This poor guy had just thrown out a casual "hey" as he was walking past her to what I assume was the bathroom or the elevator. She intercepted him and then dumped her personal life on him and kept saying, "That isn't really slutty, right?" The guy nodded towards the book in front of her, I'm guessing he was trying his hardest to get her to go back to her studying but she just told him she was only studying bio, which according to her was just "like sooo boring". She proceeded to share that, after an hour she was going out to get hammered and drunk text her boyfriend wannabe, who I assume, isn't too far from collecting social security.

I was feeling pretty good about myself in comparison to this girl until she asked her friend what he finally declared as his major. He answered business and she literally went off about how lame he was and how only people who aren't even smart enough to be in college major in business and that sheee was premed.  I wondered what she would have said about me, seeing as I don't have a major... or any inkling of what it may be in the future. Then, I remembered this girl who was complaining about how totally lame bio was, planned on being a doctor. Apparently, only airheads study business and you don't have to enjoy, or have an interest in biology to be premed. I'm thinking ten years down the road if I find out this girl became a doctor after all I may boycott healthcare altogher.

Until Next Week,

Elise, From The Attic

The Butt Cake and The Attempted Robbery of My Converse Sneaker

Elise from the Attic is a weekly blog post from my sister Elise who is currently kicking up her heels and studying her ass off in Kentucky. She is a fashionista and a lunatic, but we love her. Mostly. Here is this week's edition of:

I am afraid to death of confrontation.

I avoid it at all possible costs. In fact, the things I do to avoid confrontation are quite irrational, and getting worse.

When I was little, I'd have my step mom tell my dad if I got a bad grade because I was afraid to tell him myself.

In Jr. High it elevated.

I once ordered a burger from McDonalds with ketchup only and when I got my burger with mustard, pickles etc., I walked away pretending to be satisfied before I begged my cousin to order me another. I don't know what I thought the less than meticulous McDonalds employee would do to me if I spoke up, but I was not going to take the chance.

My freshman year of high school, in French class we could make a dessert to share with the class for extra credit. I jumped on the idea and since it was Christmas time, asked my mom to make me the "Buche de Noel," a cake that had to be shaped and frosted to look like a log. She worked on this thing for hours and it was beautiful.

Well... I rode the bus in high school before I got my driver's license. The regulars of the public bus system I noticed, did not seem to be any more friendly than the McDonalds employee, as you can imagine. So I sat down, with the cake that my mother slaved over on a glass platter in a box next to me.

As I sat thinking to myself about how impressed my teacher would be with my extra credit, a man walked onto the bus. He was scary looking to say the least, dirty and scowling. And just guess which seat this man chose to sit his unclean behind on? The one that had been occupied by my gorgeous, time consuming, amazing cake, which was ON A PLATTER... IN.  A.  BOX.

I wish I was lying. Did I mention that there were MAYBE three seats on the bus that were taken? The man SAT ON MY CAKE, but the best part is...guess what I said to him?

Absolutely nothing.

We rode to school, twenty minutes, with this man sitting about four inches away from me on what was obviously not an empty seat. I was crying at this point.

My friends were sitting across from the man, the cake and I, laughing silently yet hysterically at the fact that I hadn't said a word and was silently weeping. The man looked over at me and said "Am I bothering you?" at one point, and I said no... I'm telling you, something is wrong with me.

{This is not my cake}

When we finally got to school one of my friends asked the man for my cake.  He stood up, handed it to her and asked me why I hadn't said anything... I ran off the bus. I had never laughed or cried harder in my life than when we opened that box as the bus pulled away to see a huge ass print in what was once a decadent log shaped cake.  Butt Cake.

I wish I could tell you that I was young and stupid, but the truth is I am now four years older... and still stupid.

A few months ago I was in the library, at a desk that sits four people, two on either side of a wall. You can't see the people across from you, but if you look under the desk, you can see their feet. Supposedly the two boys on the other side of the wall noticed me take my shoes off and thought it would be funny to take one of them.

I heard them talking about it and laughing but, I said nothing.  I didn't even move to see if I was missing a shoe until they left. I then looked over to my friend, who had been on the bus with me so many years ago, and explained the situation. She cried laughing as we searched the entire floor of the library for my shoe and eventually found it up on a shelf.

I would have walked back to my dorm shoeless before I would have told that shoe stealing bastard to back off my Converse.

As you can see, I am deathly afraid of confrontation and though it often puts me into unfortunate predicaments, I justify it to myself,  knowing that at least other people get a kick out of it. If you only knew my family, you would understand that I am the black sheep if there ever was one when it comes to speaking up.

I'm working on it.

Until next week,

Elise, From the Attic

I Miss My Plastic Charm Necklace.

Once, when Lyndsey and I were little, she shoved American cheese into my Strawberry Shortcake Blow Kiss doll.  You have no idea what I am talking about?  Strawberry Shortcake had baby dolls that, when you squeezed them, would blow fruit scented air into your face.  It was our favorite activity while dancing around in our Wonder Woman underoos watching Saturday morning cartoons.  I believe these days, they call it huffing, but whatevs. We had Lemon Meringue and Strawberry.  And Lyndsey had shoved the american cheese into her mouth which put the end to the strawberry scented goodness until one day, the cheese dried out enough to be dislodged just so.  When we pushed on her belly, she shot cheese out of her mouth at such a great speed that I'm pretty sure Rainbow Brite and Christina Marie were scared.  Christina Marie was my Cabbage Patch... she had a normal name because she was one of the first edition, procured by some miracle the Christmas I was seven  by my Meme from a friend of hers in New York.  Don't tell anyone, but she still lives in my house.

Lynds and I were children of the eighties.  We walked to the drugstore to buy giant flourescent pink triangle earrings.  We wore jelly shoes until our feet blistered.  We had every color of embroidery floss imaginable and would spend hours making friendship bracelets.  That was after the beaded friendship pin craze had died off a bit.  The Christmas that I was in sixth grade, my aunt took me to the Limited to buy an Outback Red shirt, I was in seventh heaven.  It was just about as awesome as my friends renting a white limo for my thirteenth birthday.  We rode around and drank two liters of soda.  How cool can you get?

My aunt also worked for Apple and got a IIe for us.  My mom probably had a $400 phone bill every month in 1987 when we were introduced to Prodigy by my Uncle Jim.  "Mom, we can meet someone in Oklahoma or Maine or New Hampshire!  You just use the phone line!  It is sooooo cool."  It lived in our bedroom, that we somehow convinced my mother to let us paint with bright white walls and black trim.  I can't even fathom the kind of "cool mom" factor it takes to let your pre-teens paint that hideousness with your blessing. 

Of course, it wasn't all Funshine & Cheer Bears, there were bad things too.  It is still the bane of my existance that I lost the tape of Lyndsey falling on her butt captured on my PXL-2000.  I was sure that was my ticket to Bob Sagett and his Funny Videos.  We ran out of cake mix & light bulbs burnt out of our Easy Bake Ovens.  My cousin John had all of his action figures stolen right out of the back of my Meme's Pacer in the parking lot of the grocery store.  And we do have photographic evidence of me only wearing pink and white, mostly flashdance-esque sweatshirts, for about two years of my life.  And the shoulder pads, the shoulder pads.  Who would let a fourth grader wear a turquoise blazer with shoulder pads to school?  That's right.  My mother. 

And the charm necklace.  Ohhhhh the sweet sweet plastic charm necklace.  Filled with clip on charms like a baby bottle, a tennis racket, and an abacus, because in 1985, you never knew when you might need a miniature plastic abacus.  To do your counting of Hello Kitty items or Garbage Pail Kid cards or ummm whatever?  If I had that pink plastic goodness today, I would be forced to wear it AND pretend I was putting on the plastic lipstick charm, the awesomeness was just that powerful.  There is no point in denying it.

This post is really for my awesome friend Merrily, who introduced me to this book, modeled by the gorgeous Christina Marie herself...

It's a book, it's a Trapper, there are images of smelly stickers, it's totally RAD.  I read this and laughed hysterically.  And now, I'm passing it on to one of you.  {Full disclosure, I totally paid for this sucker & already read it.} Leave a comment with YOUR favorite and thing about the eighties.  I will choose a winner on Friday, February 5.

Gotta go.  Digrassi Junior High is on and my crimper is done heating up. 

{UPDATE:  Thank you to all the entries!  The winner, chosen very democratically by writing everyone's name on paper and having Finnegan choose one, is GEORGIE!  Congrats!  I need your address to get your book to you!}

Cooking Challenged

My sisters are insane and beautiful and hilarious and absolutely delightful to be around when they aren't being bitchy.  They are equipped with an innate ability to have fun wherever life might take them, they march to the beat of their own drummers, and they don't mind telling you to buzz off if you don't agree.  They do things like marry a handsome foreigner in a quickie ceremony at the courthouse without telling anyone, pick their colleges out of a hat, or get auctioned off as a date on the local radio station... and those are just the things I'm allowed to tell you.  They do not, however have a lick of cooking sense between the three of them. 

That wasn't fair... there may be a tiny, itsy bitsy bit in there, but for the most part, all of the cooking genes came my way.  Lyndsey can make gorgeous centerpieces out of fruit, Rachael cooked a turkey this year for Thanksgiving with a bit of guidance, and Elise... well, Elise literally measures out 2 quarts of water when cooking Kraft Mac N Cheese because that is what the box tells her to do.  Yeah... she's the one stirring with an "air spoon" on the right.

To remedy this a bit and provide an excuse for my family to have dinner all in one place before Elise returns to school, I decided to teach them how to cook.  Rachael came up with the concept of a cooking lesson, Elise & Lyndsey chose the menu.  I was just along for the ride, some seasoning guidance, and to make sure they didn't burn my house down.  They kicked all kinds of ass in the kitchen.  I'm not going to lie, it made me a little teary, I was so proud of them.

The Menu

Baby Greens with Toasted Pecans, Feta, Apples, Craisins & Homemade Vinaigrette

Sauteed Chicken in White Wine Sauce

Balsamic Honey Glazed Oven Roasted Baby Carrots

Oven Roasted Asparagus

Garlic & Rosemary Smashed Red Potatoes

Baguette

For the vinaigrette, pour 6 full tablespoons of olive oil, 2 tablespoons of apple cider vinegar, 1 tablespoon(ish) of sugar, 2 tablespoons of honey, and about 1/4 a small red onion minced finely into a container with a lid.  I also dump in whatever seasoning I am in the mood for.  Shake vigourously... if you are my idiot sister, you also pose for photos to demonstrate the crazy shaking involved.

The carrots were amazing!  They roasted 2 pounds of baby carrots in the oven at 400 degrees for about 20 minutes with some seasoning and a little olive oil.  They were pulled out of the oven and drizzled with about 2 tablespoons of olive oil, 3 tablespoons of honey, and about 1 teaspoon of balsamic vinegar.  Pop them back into the oven for about 5 more minutes.  They were still a little crunchy, roasted to perfection & tasted wonderfully.

The asparagus was roasted at 400 degrees with olive oil, spices, and the juice of half a lemon.

The rosemary & garlic mashed redskin potatoes were soooo good thanks to Lyndsey!  The potatoes were cut into chunks {the skin stays on} and boiled until tender in salted water, then drained.  In a small sauce pan she sauteed some minced garlic and rosemary in a bit of olive oil, then took the pan off the heat and added butter and cream to let it absorb the flavors.  That whole mix went into the drained potatoes and were hand mashed to perfection. 

The chicken was dredged in flour with seasoning, then into the pan with olive oil to brown on both sides.  Since we were doing so much {we made dinner for TWELVE!} we popped it into the oven to finish at 350 degrees.  Then we poured white wine & a cup of water from the potatoes in the pan to deglaze, let that reduce, added a pat of butter & some spices, then added some half and half stirring until creamy.  Delish!

So there you have it.  A cooking lesson with my best girls.  It got rave reviews, but I'm pretty sure that is because our brothers will eat anything.  {Kidding!  It really WAS good.}  They wanted us to make it a weekly occurance and no one went to the hospital {my dad invited a doctor friend to join us just in case} for food poisoning.  A resounding success I'd say!  So, we're planning to do this again.  What would you like to see them learn to cook? 

Give these Roasted Brussels Sprouts or Sauteed Red Cabbage a try!