NeroW

Ha! "Some of them are still alive! We must build more medieval steps!" Classic.

emhahn-- I'm on the non-Portage end. I was just wondering last night if there were other Kalamazooans on this board. Yay!

I'd like to know what a milk cake is, for sure!

I would second Suzanne F's cardamom.

Monica-- What desserts do you make in the microwave? Is this beyond melting chocolate? I also use it to reheat soup, Lean Cuisine ( ), etc. Also water for tea.

We use ours to remind us there's beers in the freezer.

not to mention he'd be a drag in europe, where most restaurants don't even open till 8pm or later. its not petty or callous, Nerow. you are simply stating things as they are for you. I will never NEVER again be with a picky eater, and my own saga of picky-eater-boyfriend isn't nearly as painful as yours. but it was painful ;-) and he didn't last. I just can't be with someone like that. cramps my style WAY too much. Thank you, malarkey. When FritzBrenner and I are in charge of dinner (when aren't we, with our group), everyone jokes about the "European dinner hour." After re-reading this thread, I can't say I've eaten in fine enough places to have been embarrassed by my companions! Ordering wine? Pshaw. Although, when we dined in France, I am CERTAIN I embarrassed Fritz. Perhaps she'll share . . .

There is actually something I read once where you shouldn't eat past 8 or 10 or something because your body doesn't metabolise it as well and you gain more weight. But I don't follow that. No, this will never work. That would mean no eating after the bar closes. No midnight snack. fimbul, bacon in any form counts for something!

KateW Don't worry. Your boyfriend sounds a lot less picky than my ex was. Plus, I could've (maybe) overlooked his bizarro eating habits if he'd been a nice person. I quickly realized he wasn't. Now, I filter them. A few months back there was a boy I wouldn't date because he didn't eat after 8 o'clock at night. EDIT: to say that this may seem callous or petty, but to me, it's not. It's more important to me than religious affiliation (but not political )

My ex-boyfriend (whose face, thank God, grows more and more dim with every passing day) claimed to be "allergic" or was seriously opposed to the following: ALL fruits and ALL vegetables. All . No salads. No juices. No side of broccoli. No haricots verts. No ragouts. No roasted vegetable pasta. No fresh summer tomato with salt. Nothing . He said that fruits and vegetables made his throat swell up. He ate no chocolate. He ate NO cheese, not even processed cheese food slices or Colby or string cheese, much less any "weird" cheese I might have had lying around. Wine. Caramel. Yogurt. Hard liquor, which was too bad, because he drove me to drink. Condiments other than ketchup, and that only with French fries, and those only McDonald's-type cut: no crinkle-cut or shoestring potatoes for him, he claimed the texture became too "mealy." This excluded hash browns or American fries or baked potatoes or mashers from his diet as well. A piece of potato that had been fried had also better not have any skin left on it--potato skin was a no-no. Bread in most incarnations--he'd order a hamburger, and eat only the meat. He'd eat brown-cardboard toast at breakfast joints with horrid fake jelly, but turn his nose up at my mother's sublime homemade bread. He would Not Eat Butter--he wouldn't even buy butter for me to eat at his house. No pickles. No onion. All meat except plain grilled chicken breasts and hamburger patty was "gross" to him. He would not eat a piece of chicken that had been flavored in ANY way--even with lemon juice (no lemon! makes my throat swell up!) or olive oil (no! it has olives in it!) He would not eat roast chicken. He would not even eat ground beef, i.e., on nachos. He would not eat bacon, he would not eat roast beef, he would not eat sausage. He would not eat Thanksgiving turkey, or its stuffing. He would not eat Easter ham. The mere idea of getting him to try fish or seafood, or goose/duck/lamb/organ meats, or a freaking-ass pork chop, or even a piece of dark-meat chicken, was laughable. He'd never had a piece of steak--ANY steak--in his life. Barbecue sauce was out. Teriyaki? No way. No soy sauce. Fish sauce never crossed his mind once. Garlic--that's a laugh too, to think of him eating anything that garlic had even been near. Ever. Pasta: he would eat my homemade macaroni and cheese and my mother's lasagna, but that's all. No spaghetti. No ravioli. No noodle that was shaped unlike an elbow or a piece of toiletpaper. He would not eat bagels. Cream cheese? Hah! Eggs were off-limits for him (another "allergy"). I used to thoroughly disgust him (through his mouthful of brown-cardboard toast) at breakfast joints by mopping up my runny egg yolk with my American fries. Salt and pepper, even, were "strange." Chutneys or jams or salsas were out. He wouldn't even eat junk food--oh wait, Doritos. He liked those. And Cheetos. He didn't drink coffee or tea or pop. He DID eat: takeout Chinese from one particular place--but only Sweet/Sour chicken--no egg rolls, nothing that was "hidden." Plain. White. Rice. Tofu (??) The aforementioned Doritos and Cheetos. Grilled chicken breast. He used to come over to my house to grill enough chicken and make enough rice to last him an entire week, and mix it with taco sauce (NOT salsa). At. Every. Meal. He drank water, Corona (NO other beer) or Gatorade. The green kind. He makes me, needless to say, want to puke. Nothing will seem embarrassing or annoying after him. No one. Nothing. EDIT: to say FritzBrenner, remember him?

Awbrig-- Who made the ravioli? From whence came they?

Bennigans has delicious chicken strips. I love them.

Waiting at the Shawarma King on campus just now, it was completely PACKED with frat and sorority. It was good to see. Kalamazoo, Michigan.

tommy, What? Who killed him? The smokers?

Who's Tommy?

Awbrig-- Who made the ravioli?

Whew. The thing is, Jinmyo, I didn't do any of these tasks (other than soak the skewers and chop up the vegetables). The rest I just oversaw, gesturing with my beer bottle when I felt intervention was needed. Last night my mom threw a going-away party for me at her fiance's house, so . . . 80 ( ) enchiladas, preparing the shells as dictated in this month's CI but not using their recipe otherwise. Chicken/beef/vegetable. Very spicy, very delicious. About 15 different guacs, salsas, etc., brought by her friends and our family. Chips, chips, chips. Crab dips, bean dips . . . my uncle didn't move from the "dip" table once. He said several times that the 80 enchiladas may have been overkill. More than 20 batches of margaritas ( ). Judging by the way I feel today, probably MUCH more than 20 batches. Talk about overkill. Pistachio ice cream pie. 4 different types of cheesecake. And to top it off, it was a going-away-to-culinary-school party, and my mom dressed as a Chef. As if anyone needed reminding who my inspiration is.

Feelin' lazy . . . friends have a new grill and a new baby, so . . . About a hundred skewers--chicken breast, pork tenderloin, tomato, mushroom, onion, pepper, etc, etc. After we assembled the grill, of course. Deli baked beans and potato salad. Chocolate-merlot cake. Probably about a hundred Bell's Oberon.

Grant Achatz. Uh, I mean, Peter Gabriel. I second Simon's Zappa.

Beautiful. Elaborate. Please.

Torakris, When I'm at work and haven't eaten all day, I have to refrain from checking this thread. Hearing what you eat for dinner is much too inspiring on an empty stomach! It always sounds so wonderful. Props! Temps topped 40 F in Michigan today, so: Quickie tart with well-browned onion, plum tomatoes, and about a pound of goat cheese. Last minute company forced me to juilenne some basil on top. Wine. EDIT: this is my 400th post and I'm not going to lie--the rest of the chocolate Guinness cake for dessert. What my boss didn't inhale, that is.

Unfortunately not much lately besides eGullet. However, I have been obsessively reading ingredient lists for the past few weeks. I like to sneak into people's cupboards and read their food. The other night at a friend's house, I noticed that he had Potted Meat Product, and the first ingredient was "mechanically separated chicken." He tried to tell me I'd brought the Potted Meat Product over, but I had to set him straight. The olives I am eating right now have olives, red wine, vinegar, grapemust, and sea salt. Why this interests me, I do not know. Tonight I will be reading through the new Vanity Fair.

I agree that pre-grated cheese is more dry.

Kalamazoo, MI, a town of 4 colleges. Beer. Pizza.

That sounds like the bomb. Monday @ a friend's house: tenderloin, nice and crusty on the out, linguine with braised garlic and balsamic vinegar. Tuesday: chicken breasts with pear and rosemary sauce, salad with walnut and Gorgonzola, basmati rice, chocolate Stout cake.