HDF’s Reality Cooking Show: Chopping Onions and Garlic

Chopping the Onion

  1. Start peeling the onion’s skin.
  2. Accidentally drop a piece of the onion skin on the kitchen floor.
  3. Pick up the onion skin with a paper towel, and put it in the garbage can under the counter.
  4. After touching the floor with the paper towel and sliding out your garbage can from under the counter, wash your hands with soap. Then dry your hands.
  5. Pick up the knife to resume peeling.
  6. Notice that your hands are still a bit soapy, and soap is not an ingredient in meatloaf. Wash and dry your hands again.
  7. Continue peeling and drop another piece of onion skin on the floor. Decide that you cannot stop  peeling to pick up every little thing that lands on the floor
  8. Start cutting the peeled onion by slicing it and then chopping it.
  9. Do that rocking thing with the knife that makes you feel like a real foodie.
  10. As you rock your knife, note that at least four or five pieces of onion fly off the cutting board, deposit schmutz on your clean shirt, and then land on the floor.
  11. Worry about the pieces of onion lying on the floor. If you step on them, you might fall, and have to go to the hospital, and who would be left to feed your starving family?
  12. Decide to write a letter to the cooking shows demanding that they televise what falls on the floor, behind the counter.
  13. Hear your phone ring, and worry  Continue reading

Are You a Fake Foodie Like Me? Five Ways to Tell


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  1. You cook a gigantic meatloaf on Sunday so you don’t have to cook on Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, and if you really push it, Thursday.
  2. You make an antipasto by emptying many jars and cans and throwing the stuff on a plate with some salami, all artfully arranged.
  3. You are still planning to learn what to do with a real artichoke, not the ones from the jar.
  4. You buy arugula and tender baby lettuce  at the Farmers’ Market and then put it in your “show off” recyclable bag, Then you strut around the food stalls screwing  up your nose at other people’s plastic bags.  At the end of the week, you throw out your Farmer’s Market stuff  because it’s much easier to prepare and eat a washed bag of salad mix.
  5. You go to a Farmer’s Market and bring your big dog on a long leash. You wait for people to pet your dog and talk to it, if you haven’t already tripped them with the damn leash.  You don’t buy anything. What is it with you dog people at the Farmers’ Market? PS. I don’t have a dog.

Do you know any fake foodies?

Attention: Short Supermarket Shoppers! We Must Unite!

Yesterday, another short woman and I rescued one of our own.  She was trying to step on the frame of her shopping cart so she could reach up to the top shelf in the pickle and olive jar aisle. She wanted a super large jar of green stuffed olives, the economical jar the stores always put on the stratosphere shelf.  Short people, like us, can never get, let alone see items like that.

Uh oh! Her cart was slipping as she stepped on it!

I screamed, “Wait!”  Then, bracing her shopping cart against the shelves with my body, I held it in place while she tried again. No success. She did not want to drop the olive jar on my head, and she needed her two arms for her ascent and grab.

Time to reconnoiter.  Where are the tall people when you need them? We needed reinforcements.

Another short woman was meandering down the aisle, blissfully unaware of the situation.

Pressing  her into service, I commanded, “I’ll hold the cart. You grab her stuff!”

I held the cart. The olive lady climbed with one hand, got her jar of olives with  other hand,  and handed it  off to the short receiver waiting for the catch.

Victory! We embraced.

Sisters of Shortness, We Must Unite! (Short men are welcome too. Ha Ha. Fat Chance!)

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My Imaginary Friends

Hello My New Friends,     rose perlmutter

As I get to know you, let me introduce my old friends. They’re imaginary. The first one is Grim Streaker and the second one is Overthinker. They sit in my head and make me crazy.

Grim says, “Elderly girl, start the darn blog! The clock is ticking.”

Overthinker says, “No, Rose, you’re not ready to start. Do another draft, and another, and another. You can’t write a blog! You’re not an expert on anything!”

Grim says, “That’s not true, Rose. You are indeed an expert …on Nothing. Just write about what you love. That’s all that counts.”

“Well, Grim,” I say, “I sure do love food. I love getting it and eating it!”

“Ta da!” Grim says.”Now start the darn blog!”

I say, “I’m writing about food, and then I’m hitting publish. Yikes! Up yours, Overthinker! Whoo-hoo Grim Streaker!”

Welcome everyone to Howdy Doody Foodie!

Rose, The Nothing Expert