Tuesday, February 18, 2014

Jamaica, Fat Americans, Potato Gnocchi with Mushroom Sauce

God, I suck suck suck at posting and this picture does not do this meal justice. I’ve actually been keeping a mental log of all the things I need to post about. I can’t figure it out – am I busier now than I was a few years ago, do I not have as much to say? That can’t be it, I’m always spouting my mouth off. I don’t know what it is.

Here is what I do know. Jamaica is full of fat white people. Chris and I just got back from a quick trip to Jamaica. We had never been and didn’t know what to expect. It was great. We splurged a little and had a concierge room which means that among other things we had a stocked bar with rum, gin, vodka, whiskey and red wine – and a fridge stocked with sparkling wine, white wine, soda, juice red stripe, etc. So, if you think that I didn’t wake up every morning and rehydrate after my morning run with a crisp and refreshing mimosa – you’d be wrong. Chris on the other hand waited until the respectable hour of 10:00 to order his first drink, which was always a mudslide. I think he was trying to convince himself it was a brown just slightly unhealthy smoothie. It’s a milkshake Chris, with alcohol in it.

So, back to my original thought, Jamaica is full of fat white people. Wait, drunk, fat, white people. 

Every year we go to the Caribbean and every year I fret for months about what I am going to look like in a bathing suit, and then I get to the beach and think – I am the skinniest bitch on this beach. Have these people been here a month or more eating this all inclusive food – does no one else worry about what they look like in a two piece? Apparently not.  When will I learn?

And another thing, it doesn’t take a fucking rocket scientist to figure out how to put on sunblock. Why do I see so many people with the patchwork sunburn look? I actually saw a guy whose entire chest area was bright red said for a smeared hand print across his right boob. Seriously, how does that happen? You put the lotion in your hand felt yourself up for a fraction of a second and thought – “good enough!” Or maybe he was like me, but instead of a mimosa at 9:00 am he went straight for the whiskey and figured he wasn’t going to feel any pain on the entire vacation anyways so who gives a fuck.

I don’ know, I don’t know.

What I do know is that this recipe rocked!

Here is where I got it.

Rating: Damn Good

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