My New Fig Tree, Or How My Life Keeps Getting Weirder.

I was feeling lousy yesterday, so I went to Whole Foods even though I didn't need to. I bought a fig tree, which made me feel pretty good. Here he is:

At the recommendation of my boss, his name is Figaro. Which seems apt, though I can't quite put my finger on why...

Prosciutto Wrapped Melon: Ham and Interns

What a confusing title for this post, Hungry Sam! you might say. Ham and Interns? Shigawhat now?

I'll explain. First things first -- I ate prosciutto-wrapped honeydew melon the other night, and it was super.

This tasty treat was the fortunate, shotgun marriage between two strokes of luck: I had found a truly superb honeydew (I know!) and Kevin (the roommate) had picked up a small package of tasty, smoky, nutty, sweet prosciutto.

The Melon: I have a friend who (accurately, I think) calls honeydew the "intern" of melons. Like interns, honeydews are so often useless. It's so hard to choose good ones -- there are so few exterior signs that the particular one you've chosen is worth it. More often than not, they're just not ready. But.

But.

When you find a good honeydew/intern, it's fanTASTIC. Both improve any project they touch, whether a fruit salad, position paper, or ham-based hors d'oeuvre (had to look that spelling up).

*Caveat: if my organization was a fruit monger, we would ALWAYS have good honeydews. We're just that good at picking interns.

**I wish there were more opportunities in English for use of the word "monger." Or that its standalone usage were more appropriate.

The Ham: Prosciutto is Italian for ham.

Ok, I'll provide more detail. In English, Prosciutto refers to cured ham, often very thinly sliced and eaten as antipasto (appetizer) or in a Caprese salad. The curing process involves salt and a long hang in a cool, ventilated area for nine months to two years. The salt does the "cooking," if you will. By the time it's wrapped for our enjoyment, it takes on a ripe, heavy scent and tastes quite intensely rich and sweet.

Now, next time we'll try to get our hands on some Prosciutto de Parma, cured ham from the city of Parma, Italy.

Fruit Salad Haiku

A morning brunch bash

Means an awesome fruit salad.

Mango-melons-peach.

Planned Parenthood Birth Control Cookie

Does this really need any more explanation? Or does it raise a few questions? Like: Is it safe for me to eat this? Will I go to Hell?

I think we can agree, though, that if I eat this cookie, I will not get pregnant.

A Whole Fish, For the HALIBUT

GET IT? IT'S A FISH PUN DAMMIT.

Sorry I cursed. Now my sole is definitely going to eel.

I'll stop, I promise.

Once upon a time, I went for Ethiopian food at Dukem (one of the best in D.C.) with my friend Rebecca. Must have been a while ago; I seem to recall it being the first hot weekend day of the year. No matter.

For those who haven't had the pleasure, Ethiopian food, as it is served in America, tends to be various stew-like dishes of cheese and yogurt, lentils, other vegetables, and meats in little piles on top of the iconic, spongy Ethiopian Injera bread -- which also happens to be the main "utensil" for eating the stews. It looks a lot like this:

Anyways, Rebecca is not a huge meat eater, so we opted for the vegetarian platter. I do, though, like to make lots of a protein a dietary priority, so when we were asked, "Would you like fish on the side?" I enthusiastically said yes. I don't really know what I was expecting (maybe a cup of a fish stew? perhaps a tan of tuna in a bowl?), but I was not expecting this:

It's just a whole fish. Headless, obviously, and about 10 inches long.

It was DELICIOUS. The whole thing was fried but without any sort of breading or batter, with vertical cuts in the skin (presumably to prevent the fish from curling in one direction during cooking, as whole fish are wont to do). Great flavor (particularly with the included lemon wedge) though mild, much like trout, with a crispy texture and not too many wayward bones. I ended up attacking it with my hands as we didn't have silverware and the injera was too soft to make a good barrier between the fish and my fingers.

SO TASTY. Thank cod I said yes to fish.

Ok, I'll really stop.

Coffee Creep

The AM Fix. Also, this cup says something about ninjas. Huh.

First off, although I try not to apologize for absences from writing, in this case, I blame it on the stress of looking for/eventually finding/and moving to a new apartment, as well as about four weeks running of heavy weekend commitments, including travel. So, to those of you for whom Happiness Is settling back a couple times a week and reading about food I've chewed on, my heartfelt apologies.

Really though, I know there are only MAYBE two people who fit that description (ok, I can really only think of one), sooo I don't feel that bad. Onwards!

I can't believe I haven't yet blogged about my serious coffee problem. So here we go! Hungry Sam vocab word of the week:

Coffee Creep: This all-too-often under-diagnosed malady refers to the constant, never-ending uptick of coffee consumption in those who nevertheless wish to limit their intake to some reasonable quantity, like 8 cups a day.

Clearly, I suffer from Coffee Creep.

I always have the best intentions. I will say, my New Year's resolution, now 4 1/2 months old, to only drink decaf or half caf after noon has held, but the amount of caffeinated coffee I drink BEFORE noon has been on the up. On mornings that I brew at home, I normally enjoy a solid 18 oz. of coffee (which sounds like a lot, until you figure that it's only about two good-sized mugs worth). However, this is up from perhaps 12 oz. two months ago.

Then, the nice weather has been killing me, because even after brewing at home, of course I want an iced coffee, because Dunkin' Donuts effectively trained me years ago to understand that nice weather=large iced coffee. That's another 12-16 oz. Oy.

Oh Dunkin' Donuts. Your effective marketing campaigns/support of the Boston Red Sox have done their respective magics.

Now, mornings I don't brew (say, I buy coffee post-gym) are a bit better, and I probably stick to the 22 oz. in a large iced coffee for my full morning consumption. However, after a few days of tracking, I realize that these days correlation strongly with the days that I feel the need to purchase a half-caf after noon, generally between 3 and 4 PM. So given that, I'm still up around 30 oz. of caffeinated coffee.

I guess I'm not accounting for ice. Or am I just making excuses?

Either way, I'm a solid addict, but I'm under control. I don't think it's affecting my sleep, or at least if it is, I'm not conscious of it. At least I haven't "tripped" on caffeine in a while, or ended up in the hospital like poor Dave (college roommate) during finals.

Ok, folks. Back in the saddle.

Lunch at Whole Foods: Never Really a Good Plan

So, it's Passover, I'm near to moving (hopefully), and my parents are in town -- kind of a no-lunch-food-in-my-fridge Perfect Storm. Thus, I was forced to eat out for lunch yesterday. I know -- the horror.

Sandwich joints were out of the question (bread's a no-go/no-no), I'd had Indian just a day ago, salads make me grumpy, and I needed something fast -- so, the Whole Foods pay-per-pound bar seemed doable. I could control myself right? I can stop whenever I want. STOP LOOKING AT ME.

I was actually pretty virtuous, lunch-wise, and only spent about 6 bucks on food for right then -- I got some cilantro-lime tuna steak, a few roasted plantains, and a couple Swedish meatballs. Good protein, savory and tasty -- kind of hit the spot. See?

I'd already started eating before I thought to take a picture.

The problem with my plan is that I was still going to Whole Foods, a magical place where I do about 1/3 of my grocery shopping. My second mistake was getting a basket. Obviously, then, I had to buy apples, strawberries, milk, fish stew (wicked good salmon gumbo -- might've been an afternoon snack) honey, mustard seed, and tea. So although I managed to avoid spending $50 at the food bar, I did spend about $15 that had NOTHING to do with lunch.

Now, maybe some folks would have the self control to go to a supermarket and JUST buy lunch food, but Hungry Sam clearly does not.

Verdict: I just...can't. Can't go back.