catheroominations

ok, that last food giveaway sort of broke the bank, so I had to rethink my generosity. it’s not really fair to give people something for nothing. I mean, just because you come here doesn’t entitle you to a reward. so this time, you gotta leave a comment. here’s your prize for leaving a comment.

go to arby’s on march 9 from 11 a.m. to 7 p.m. and get one (1) of their new chicken naturals tenders. yes, it’s true. 100% natural chicken. they’re no longer selling the unnatural kind.

oh, and if you link to catheroominations from your own page, I’ll even throw in a dipping sauce for your added effort. now, I am trusting you not to take advantage of my charitable nature. only go to arby’s to get your freebies if you fulfill the required duties first, ok?

don’t say I never gave you anything.

just for being you, I’m treating you all to pancakes at ihop tuesday, february 28. visit your local restaurant from 7 a.m. to 2 p.m. and get a short stack at no charge. bring the kids, your significant other, your parents, the in-laws, the dog! consider it my gift to you.

do you see the benefits of visiting my blog on a daily basis?

happy fat tuesday!

if I was in the closet, and the closet was this closet, I would stay put.

it’s been awhile since I’ve had a valentine, so I’m not real sure what to get the boy as a token of my undying love and devotion. what I really want to do is get something kinda hot for valentine’s night. I searched at victoria’s secret, but couldn’t find what I was looking for. it was all just…well…not me.
so what do you guys think of this? what’s the first thing you think of when you see it?

update: since I couldn’t try it on, davis offered his help. now I can see just how fabulous it would look on me.

the boy is allergic to cats. I know! me with an allergic-to-cats boy. the horror! so we splurged on an ionic breeze from sharper image. it quietly cleans the air, sucking away the cat dander and thus creating an allergy-free zone for the boy. those sharper image engineers must have worked for years on perfecting a their prototype, rigorously testing the breeze to offer us customers the best allergen/kitty litterbox smell-removal system on the market.

as a tech writer, I’m naturally good at figuring some things out; as an homage to my fellow tech writers, I should read the manual anyway. but it was so easy to figure out how to operate my new device. look:

step 1: open box

step 2: remove ionic breeze

step 3: cat enters empty box

step 4: close ionic breeze box and dispose of, cat and all, in the recycling bin

there ya go! cat dander all gone!

this is a filet mignon from ruth’s chris steak house. it is the most succulent, tender, and delicious steak.
ever.
in the whole wide world.
dude.

I introduced matte to this fine dining establishment last night. we went there because they are featuring the buffalo rib eye and matte loves buffalo. as far as I’m concerned, they could feature the buffalo rib eye with a side of keys to a new car and a platinum tiffany necklace, and I’d still get the filet: petite size, medium rare.

a steak this good demands a fabulous wine. last night it demanded a fabulous wine that was $20 a glass. yes, twenty bucks. I didn’t care. it would have been an insult to order anything less; an insult to ruth (who long ago bought the chris steak house), to chris (who created this culinary disneyland), and to my filet.

while matte ordered the wine, I went to “freshen up” as they say. on my way to the powder room, I saw some steaks being delivered to a table of anticipating carnivores. the steaks at ruth’s chris come out sizzling. they are cooked in an 1800-degree broiler, then plated on a 500-degree dish with butter on it. complete sensory overload…the sizzle, the aroma, and the sight of that steak is…well, it’s sexy. that’s what it is.

never have I been more excited to eat a particular food.

which is why when our server came, I was good and ready to order. no appetizers, thank you. I am saving room and taste buds for the steak. like I mentioned; petite filet, medium rare, no butter please. and a side of asparagus. (jeez, I’m getting a little worked up just writing this.)

matte ordered his buffalo rib eye, medium, with the creole mustard topper and a side of sautéed mushrooms.

what is it about someone saying “the plate is extremely hot” that makes you want to touch it? as this was not my first experience with the hotter-than-hell plate, I refrained, even though my plate didn’t have the sizzling warning sign that lasts 10 minutes or so.

one of the best things about the scalding plates is that they keep your food warm for nearly your entire meal. my asparagus hissed slightly when I placed it on my plate. yum.

I took my first bite and my eyes instantly closed. this helps to savor, you see, and it is involuntary, as is saying “oh…my…god.” my filet was so tender, it required little mastication, it just slowly vanished. it was exquisite. damn.

matte also enjoyed his buffalo, but when he sampled my filet, he had the same reaction I did. I think his words were “holy crap.” he is so getting filet next time we go. a sip of my $20/glass wine had the same effect on him, so he later ordered his own glass.

I enjoyed each bite of my 8-oz piece of bliss.

but how does one follow such a flawless meal?

with crème brule, that’s how. adorned with berries and a mint sprig, it was too big for matte to eat alone, so I had to help him (I’m nice like that). I let him make the first crack on the warm, crystallized sugar top. I love how the crème gets cooler as you approach the bottom of the dish. and those tiny flecks of vanilla. yum. matte says it’s the best crème brule he has ever had.

oh my. I need to end this here because I’ve gone on too long. and I’m making you all hungry…all 3 of you who read my blog.

gwen stefani is selling a clothing line called harajuku lovers. you can buy a three-pack of chonies on fredflare.com for $44.

mentioning bananas on boxers is kind of punny. but gwen, you should really reconsider the word s#!@ on these girlie undies. that’s a little too close for comfort.

or maybe my mind is just in the gutter

(found on nymag.com)