anti recipe: black bean, avocado, cilantro & shallot stuff

First and foremost, I am anti-recipe. Recipes require names/labels and imply that following the agreed upon guidelines of the recipe is normal, and diverting from that recipe is not normal (and therefore bad/wrong). For instance, in my corn-but-not-dairy-eating-days, every time I ordered nachos with no cheese, someone always questioned it. Unbeknownst to me, cheese is a necessary condition for nachos, and to diverge from this universal agreement about the requirements for nachos is cause for social outcry. Call me the recipe anarchist, but I believe there is something very limiting and confining about recipes.

Besides, recipes cater to the processed-food masses and recipe names often hide ingredients. Of course, gluten-free brownies aren’t going to taste as good as “regular” brownies, because the recipe for brownies requires flour. You are never going to be satisfied with a brownie made from gluten-free flour, because calling it a brownie in the first place implies that your gluten-free version of the brownie is second rate or diverging from the brownie norm. If we called gluten-free brownies “tasty rice flour, chocolate, egg and oil mushy stuff” and we called “regular” brownies “tasty wheat flour, chocolate, egg and oil mushy stuff,” we’d realize that one doesn’t taste better than the other. They’re just different kinds of treats with different tastes (and then maybe we’d recognize that variety is a good thing for our lives and our bodies).

The final argument of the recipe anarchist is that they’re fucking boring. I like to cook and try new combinations of tastes and ingredients, but I’m just not as satisfied with making gluten-dairy-corn-rice-butter-milk-egg-chocolate-and vegetable oil-free brownies (perhaps because after my special WDG modifications, my plate of brownies is an empty bowl with two tablespoons of water). Cooking AntiRecipes are fun, because you never know how they’ll turn out, so when you make some good shit, you have no one to congratulate but yourself (What now, Betty Crocker?).

AntiRecipe: Black bean, avocado, cilantro & shallot stuff


— 1 cup black beans

— 1 ‘cado

— cilantro

— tiny pieces of a little bit of shallot

— olive oil for drizzlin’

— salt & peps

Other shit: a bowl, spoon and 5 minutes.

Directions: Rinse it up, cut it up, mix it up, eat it up.



got it from my momma: the wine sneak

When it comes to restaurants, the worst dinner guest doth not give a fig about missing out on dessert or h’orderves. But the one thing I refuse to give up at a restaurant: a glass of wine.

Since I’m intolerant to sulfites and steer clear of hard liquor and gluten free beer (for sugar / additive / processed / I’m a lightweight reasons), I stick with organic wine with no sulfites added. My go-to favorites are Frey Wine (the cab is fab but mad $$),  Live-A-Little Really Ravishing Red and Our Daily Red. (Okay, I like Frey when I visit home and it’s free).

I’m not a big drinker anymore, but a glass of wine with friends over dinner is one of my favorite things. However, I have never found a restaurant or bar that offers organic wine. This threatens my wine-at-dinner dreams, but my mom, the original WDG, is the queen of allergy innovations and tricks of the trade, most notably the wine sneak.

When she goes out to dinner, my mom always slips a canteen of organic wine in her bag. Usually when she explains that she’s allergic, restaurants let her slide under the radar and bring her an empty glass, no corking fee, nada. But every now and then you get one super stickler waiter who WILL NOT CAVE (liquor license laws or some crapola). This is when my mom gets creative:

A few months ago my parents visited me at college and treated me to dinner at Wildflowers at the Turning Stone. Everyone was so considerate about our allergies, the chef even came to our table to help us order, until my mom popped the wine question. The waiter sternly refused because violated Turning Stone’s liquor license.

When a new waiter walked by our table, my mom asked for two glasses of house wine. My mom and I snuck into the hotel bathroom with the sulfite wines and the infamous canteen. We flushed the sulfite wine down the toilet, topped our glasses off with a Frey Cab, and cheers-ed each other on a mission accomplished. Worst Dinner Guests 1, Turning Stone 0.

Moral of the story? I don’t think we should’ve been denied a glass of wine at the Turning Stone, but the worst dinner guest knows not to expect everyone to understand. Instead of bumming over something you can’t control, get crafty, bend rules that suck and don’t doubt your lifestyle just because it doesn’t fit the norm, or make it on a menu.