Vegan Brunch at Cake Factory

This is a post that I thought had posted waaay back a while ago.


Weekend breakfasts present a real problem for me. Not a real problem in the sense of ... well, problems... but it's still an issue every Saturday and Sunday morning.

I always eat breakfast; to not do so seems somehow uncivilized.

The thing is - I eat the same thing for breakfast during the week.

A piece of whole wheat toast with 2 cups of black coffee and a smoothie.

The smoothie might change up depending on what's rotting in the fridge, but that's pretty much my breakfast routine.

Or... I might go through an oatmeal phase and eat oatmeal every day for a few weeks. And that's always the same - 1.5 servings of oatmeal, lots of raisins, lots of cinnamon, and some maple syrup.

I woke up this morning a little pissy because I'd planned to run a 5k this morning, but didn't get home and to bed until almost 2 am, leaving me with about 4 hours sleep before I had to wake up. I could run the 5k, sure, but I'm really serious about this training I've been doing, and I didn't want show up and have a slow run when I'd been working so hard. So.. back to bed for a few more hours!

Woke up determined to make the most of the day, so set off determined to go to breakfast quickly, then come back and get started on yard work. Oh, but where to go??!!

Imagine my surprise when Leesil told me "Hey, there's a vegan brunch today".

I hustled her into the shower while I walked the dog, then we were off. On the way over there, I said "I' don't really have high hopes for this brunch" and we laughed at how we were so early.

Fast forward 30 minutes: We've got steamy plates of tofu scramble with field roast sausage, black beans, plantains, cinnamon-y apples and tortillas in front of us. And it's delish... really delish.

Had a nice chat with some folks hanging out, including the man with the plan, Jim, from Lettuce Eat Healthy, and we were on our way back home - a vegan raspberry cupcake tucked into the back seat.

Running's good, but brunch is better. That is all.

One Surefire Trick To Know If You're Old

Slate.com, the news and culture website owned by the Washington Post,  is the king of misleading headlines. They must study the art of misdirection under Matthew Weiner. I can't tell you how many times I've clicked on a link only to realize that wow... I'm wasting time on something I wouldn't normally waste my time on.
Actually, HuffPo is the ultimate king of misleading headlines, but they mislead readers in so many ways that I can't even single them out for their HEADLINES THAT INSPIRE FEAR AND PREDICT THE DEMISE OF CIVILIZATION IN THREE WORDS OR LESS.


And we're off... to another topic!
Today, it was a great day in St. Pete. Working from home ennui has set in big time. A/C is a must-have during the day, and that drives me crazy. Even though my house has about 27 windows and there are beautiful unobstructed views of the back, front, and side yards, I still feel claustrophobic when I have to close the windows and breathe in recycled air all day. I start to swim around my enclosure like a polar bear at the Bronx Zoo - and we all know what happened to him.

I woke up this morning and decided to work for the day at a coffee shop, which was a great idea. I took a shower, put on some regular people clothes and spent a productive day sending letters to members. I saw friends, checked out what the kids are wearing, ate a yummy vegan BLT and just had a pleasant experience all-around.

After work, Leesil and I took the hound down to Straub Park for a walk and some more lessons in how to behave like a civilized dog. For the most part, he passed. Except when some lady went jogging by with her little 3 lb. white dog. Those little guys are a real gateway drug for Barksdale. He got a hold of one at the dog park once and took off with it in his mouth like he'd just hit a home run.
 As soon as I saw this one coming, jogging right past us, I grabbed on to B'dale with both arms and twisted my hands in his harness. Thank god, because he and I wrestled for a few minutes as he went after the guy. Whew.
Now, things like this tend to add fuel to mine and Leesil's simmering resentment toward each other, even when we're in perfect agreement that the runner was clueless and we could never trust Barksdale at a dog park and I did exactly the right thing by body slamming him preemptively and wow what a great team we are in keeping our crazyman dog under control. Yet, somehow.. maybe the adrenaline..... we're bickering 5 minutes later.
As we were when, out of the blue, this young tourist couple asks if Leesil can take their picture. I'm standing, ready to grab B'dale if he starts to lunge at them, while Leesil takes the pic.
A lot of questions ensue: Water background or trees? Is it too dark under this tree? Let's move over here.
I'm about ready to snark that they should make sure to get the Pier in the background because it's going to be demolished soon, but something told me to shut up.
And good thing I did, because just then, the guy falls to the ground on one knee and whips out a white jewelry box. Before he can even finish his shaky "Will  you marry m...", she's jumping in his arms and screaming "YES, YES, YES!" I'm crying, Leesil's crying and snapping more pics of the hugging, kissing, weeping newly betrothed couple and it's just a pretty great moment.
We leave them to their just-engaged status and walk away looking sheepishly at each other.
And that's when I know I'm old. If I was young, I would have asked if we could take a picture of them so that we could post THEIR story to our facebook pages. I would have tweeted "Just helped very nervous guy propose to his gf. #shesaidyes"

Instead, I'm an old lady, sitting on my couch, listening to my dog fart and sharing this sweet story the old-fashioned way - by calling you up on the phone and hoping to hell that damned Ellen isn't listening in on the party line.

Of Mangoes and Andretti

I knew in my gut that I wasn't going to make it to the movies tonight.

I'd put it off and put it off and tonight might be the last night the The Separation, the great (by all accounts) Iranian film that won the Oscar for Best Foreign Film plays in St. Pete.

Something told me not to go, and I honestly for one fleeting moment thought "bomb scare". Which made me more determined to get off my couch and get down there.

Only to run into... the Grand Prix. Oh yes... I'd forgotten all about it. I really should read the Tampa Bay Times more often, I suppose.

Anyway... parking, when you could find it, was $10. I'd already be using a credit card since I had exactly $9.05 in my checking account, and there's no way I could justify putting a parking charge on my card. There's a recession, damnit! Or... is there? I can't remember. I'm guessing there is if I have a bank balance that I haven't had since my early 20s... so yeah... recession it is.

I hemmed and hawed, not wanting to head back home. Then genius struck - I'd make the gauava/mango bread pudding recipe I'd come across in Vida Vegan earlier this morning.

Hmmm... where to find guava paste, though. I was on 30th Ave., when I remembered the Latin market by the thrift store. Three blocks away! Closed. Never mind... I had a plan. Switching over to the Latin station, I turned right and headed toward El Maguey, up on 66th and 54th Ave. I knew they stayed open late and they were sure to have it. I could picture their wooden fruit stand out front, full of huge avocados, sunburnt plantains, mangoes and bags of cilantro. I could smell the empanadas. Oh.. this bread pudding was going to be GOOD.

No luck. They were open, and very nice about it, but they didn't have any guava paste. Nor did they have any mangoes.

I figured that the Publix by my house was big enough that it would have what I needed, but there's something... um, lacking in letting fate throw you for a loop, grabbig the sails and bobbing off to guava bread pudding land, only to have to stop at the same grocery store where you buy toilet paper. This was no adventure; it was turning into an errand.

Just then, I passed another Publix, one I'd never noticed before. Surely they would have it too, especially since they were even closer to Pinellas Park and Kenneth City - home to a sizable Latin community.

At this point, I'm holding on to my adventure by a thread. I walk into the door and my jaw does LITERALLY does a Chris Traeger drop. Right in front of me is a display for fruit pastes. Not guava, but cherry. Fig. Pear. Apricot. Quince. WTF? Are we back in the 1800s and no one has refrigeration anymore. Why is, hmmm.. Rutherford & Meyer bringing this stuff back?

I walk past; determined to stick to my plan. But.... tack, matey... there's no guava paste that I recognize on the shelf. See... I learned all I know about guava paste while working at a Cuban market all through high school. And I didn't see the Goya roundish block. Admittedly, that's ALL I know of guava paste, but that's neither here nor there.

I grabbed a mango, a container of pear paste (still doesn't even sound like food) and hightailed it out of there.

Talk about adventure... I was getting ready to cook with an ingredient straight out of Little Women! Preserved limes, be damned. I had pear paste in my bag.

I've got 40-45 minutes for this baby to cook; I'll report back after I've tasted it.

Oh, and if you've ever wondered what pear paste tastes like; it's a sophisticated version of a gummy bear. No neon-ish, gasoline taste. More like a subdued gummy bear in a tuxedo, tasting slightly of tannic wine.