foodsmug lifesmug recaps shillsmug smugnom

KERF Recaps: Reboot Edition, Posts 146-148

Kathy’s Wednesday post covers what she did last weekend, but in a weird, braggy, accusatory tone:

How was your weekend? Cold? Hot? Rainy? Full of ice cream and sprinkles and hamburgers and craft brew?

She starts out talking about how the amazing cheese dude at the local Whole Foods won some contest dubbing him the best at knowing about cheeses. He’s starting his own cheese counter (not “shop,” Kathy) inside of a coffee shop for the burgeoning Charlottesville, uh, scene that wants to drink espresso with the smell of feta filling its nostrils.

Kathy has a lot of feels about the cheeses. One of them has “texture” and “sweet and sour flavors” and she ate it with sour cherries. She liked the second’s “feta-like texture” and had it with cider — the kind with alcohol. The third, with more beer, was

A French stinky cheese that was my favorite of the day! Kind of brie-ish in texture with a really smooth buttery mouthfeel.

The fourth was a “slightly bacony with notes of caramel” cheddar with pepper jelly. The fifth was a “nutty and slightly sweet” soft cheese that they ate with more jelly on a $10 ridiculousness called Cranberry Hazelnut Raincoast Crisp, which gets a resounding one star on Dean & DeLuca. The last one was a blue cheese “atop a chocolate cover [sic] fig and a sip of Bell’s Porter” that was described as having a “vanilla butterscotch flavor with a butter texture.”

That evening, they went home and drank something the local Mexican place calls “Spice-a-Ritas.” Kathy can’t even gather her wits to tell us it’s made with white tequila, roasted and soaked jalapenos, and lime, only promising that she’ll be able to describe the whirlwind of making such a creation next week.

It actually looks pretty delicious, if only because on it gathers together more spicy ingredients than we’ve seen for the entire run of her silly blog. And it would need to be, for this is what followed it:

That’s more chicken and beans “bake,” those canned green beans they’ve been working their way through since last year, salad, and un-sellable rolls from the fakery.

On Saturday morning, she had another one of those things where she puts an egg on a hamburger bun from the fakery and puts nut butter and jelly on it and says it tastes like a jelly donut.

Can’t eat enough peach!

This fake jelly doughnut is regretting those last three “Irish car bombs.” Also, he’s pretty sure he lost his debit card.

Morning-person mom dragged her reluctant child to the farmer’s market to buy flowers and “a variety of things.”

And returned just in time for nap.

It rained, and Bath Matt worked from 3:30 a.m. to 5:30 p.m. so she

took advantage by working hard myself so hopefully we could both take Sunday off.

She doesn’t say what she did, so we’ll just assume throwing things into the rice cooker and running away with her hands over her head before it gets up to “porridge” setting and trying to get reruns of “A Cervix-Thinning Story” on her iPad or something.

That night, they went to Champion Brewing Company with friends because they are desperate to show the world that they drink a heavy variety of fun-causing trendy-ritas known only to the elite foodies of the world.

we were ready for a little excitement …. and too many beers had come and gone in our absence!

While Bath Matt looks hairy and intoxicated here

Kathy looks about as good as she ever has,

and please, let’s not turn this into Alien Hunting Pawn Stars: Lightroom Edition. Let’s pretend she’s at her “goal weight” — she still has nothing interesting to say. She could be 126 minus ten pounds and still not know how to properly write, observe, or engage in observation of oneself or the world. Anyway, they came home and made their own pizza with their own onionless, garlic-less tomato sauce and OMGLOCALYOUGUYS mushrooms and they ate it standing up because they were just so entranced by their child.

On Sunday, Kathy fortified herself with

yogurt, berries, peach, chia seeds and torn pieces of Apple Scrapple bread

Not what “Apple Scrapple” contains.

so she could go shopping for a new pair of silver cork platform shoes like the Modabella ones from Marshalls she wore

to the GROUND …. Can’t find them online! Please help …. I’m looking for cork-sole, silver, sparkly, super comfy sandals with a tinnnny bit of wedge in the heel.

This might just be such a sad plea for help that I have nothing disparaging to say about it. I mean, I guess they could, technically, be worse.

For lunch on Sunday, she made a tomato sandwich and a salad with a tin of smoked herring on top of it. Then, she went to a “power yoga” class and came home to a dinner prepared by a dude who already had to work every day that week, including the previously mentioned 14-hour day the day before.

Roasted tofu and vegetables with cheese both sound rather grim, but I guess I’d just be worried about if my dinner was going to shatter onto the floor in half a second at this angle:

Kathy’s Thursday entry is another fascinating guest post from husband Bath Matt on what’s going on in their unsealed, unfenced, raised-bed gardens where onions are not welcomed but the neighbor’s cat is.

It starts out with Bath Matt whining about how he should have done said post a while ago

because the transition photos are impossible to compare!

Why, Bath Matt? Why is it so difficult to describe the process of plants that are small transitioning into larger ones? He shows some photos from a few months back, then shows ones from recently. Amazingly, the plants are bigger. Wow, Bath Matt. You’re the fuckin’ squash-whisperer.

Early morning shade makes it hard to distinguish anything

Shut up, bro.  Learn to write or to photograph.

but it’s clearly booming!  In the front you can see that the two types of kale I planted last fall (that’s right, in about September of 2012) are still going strong.  They have a lot of woody growth, but the leaves still taste good so I can’t bear to get rid of them.

I can’t keep mint that someone else waters alive, but isn’t Bath Matt — “owner” of an establishment that sells food — basically saying that the garden is growing a bunch of stuff that’s unsuitable to be served but that he doesn’t want to get rid of it because… I’m not sure, because any kind of head of kale has been less than a dollar any time I’ve been in supermarkets across the country.

But it’s not like Bath Matt is the most comfortable with anything he’s growing, as he says about that squash that’s showing up in every dish these days:

It’s a little weird that 95% of the plant is outside of the bed itself

Yeah, dude, because you’re planting it in a raised bed. Go to an actual farmer’s house. They have shit in rows. And they’re not standing there looking at them declaring things “a little weird” unless the tomatoes come out plaid. Or the farmer’s wife is putting a cruller on her salad.

These are some of the wan, haggard vegetables from the Younger-Smugsons’ garden. I don’t garden, but maybe they need some moisturizer.

He also calls his okra

Such a strange plant.

And then does one of those strange flip-flops that Kathy does, where he says one thing and then exactly the opposite. For instance, he says that things take a really long time to ripen on their property because of the sun and the trees, but then talks about how gnarly the Mortgage Lifter heirloom tomato plants were:

Each plant yielded about 10 big tomatoes, which seems kind of pitiful but that’s the way it is with heirloom varieties ….  My goal is to hit that sweet spot with the heirlooms where they have amazing and unique flavor, but are still decently productive.

Heirloom tomatoes are delicious and everything, but I’m tired of feeling obligated to pretend like people who grow them or appreciate them humorlessly are war heroes or something. Perhaps more importantly, I can’t help but stick my tongue out like a child imagining him shouting out this line about his stupid heirloom tomatoes at some microbrewery.

 

Finally, on Friday, Kathy promises “New Products for Beauty” and produces five paragraphs about

1. Earrings Bath Matt got her for Mother’s Day from a lady who has a booth at the Charlottesville farmer’s market:

….Amy out [sic] our local farmer’s market has an amazing eye for creating vintage-y pieces with a modern flair. Or is it modern pieces with a vintage flair!?

I don’t know what it is. It’s either old-looking things that look new or new-looking things that look old. Neither one of those options make any sense. That’s like asking for an onion-free onion soup, or a dietician’s certification for someone who wants to not work and get her nutritional information from the cover of a Real Simple magazine.

I guess that’s okay, though, since her Etsy shop advertises three pairs with “surgical steal” posts for $25.

Kathy likes them

Especially since I can no longer wear dangles or they get pulled out by grabby hands!

See how much they suffer at the hands of that cruel baby? Almost a year old and he still wants to grab at things that catch his eye? His parents pay $250 for a high chair and 80 strollers and he still needs stimulation? WTF.

2. necklace her sister got for all her bridesmaids with an initial stamped in a circle sold at a North Carolina chain with a location near Davidson because, have you heard? Kathy and Bath Matt went there and they love it so much Kathy bought the visor. Even though it’s not Duke. But we don’t discuss that. Anyway the necklace looks like some kind of crude product from a kit someone gets for Christmas.

I love the simplicity of it. It goes with everything!

I guess being simple and requiring no dishwashing are Kathy’s two requirements for everything. Just like someone who eats only take-out and lives in a pay-by-the-week motel.

3. A $49 purse from Etsy — another bridesmaid gift — made by some chick in Mankato who uses the word “convo.” Kathy says the bag

has become my new date night purse. A refreshing change from the giant diaper bag I usually carry around.

Hold on a minute. Kathy means to say that she has to take a large bag around when she takes her 1-year-old out into public, so that she can attend to his basic needs of feeding and not spending the day covered in bodily fluids? Jesus. That’s awful. How does she do it? Girlfriend, please, take like 26 more date nights.

4. A $22 hair conditioning spray from Birchbox that, as far as I can tell, she purchased because it fulfills a deep need for her to spray perfume on her hair:

I have always longed for the curly type of hair that loves to be spritzed with yummy smelling hair products. Sadly my very straight, fine hair looks greasy with almost everything in it…. it’s the SMELL that has me using this daily. Love it.

5. More hair stuff: A $19 Wella shampoo for “fine” hair and an $11 “self-warming mask” she calls “magical!”

This post is sponsored by my sister! … Again, it’s the smell that draws me in.

It’s funny how Kathy falls all over her exclamation point key to point out whenever she buys a local cheese, but scatterbrainedly just happens to forget to mention whenever she loves a product, say, made by Procter & Gamble, which Wella has been for 10 years.

Remember how she said, uh, less than a month ago, that one should pick snack bars only with “ingredients you can pronounce”?

The same, I guess, isn’t true for beauty products, as Wella’s stuff — promoted heavily for having things like “hydrolized silk” also has such crunchy and locally sourced ingredients as “fragrance,” methylparaben and tetrasodium EDTA, all three blasted by at least one site as among the top five chemicals to avoid in cosmetics. Other awesome ingredients include the antistatic ingredient Polyquaternium-10, viscosity-increaser Trihydroxystearin, foam-producer Cocamide MEA, and Sodium Xylenesulfonate, which helps water dissolve other stuff. If using that kind of stuff is okay, Kathy, and I’m not arguing that it’s not — isn’t it funny that you promote it when you also “own” a franchise scuffin-monger whose own corporate ad copy promises, on store sites across the country: “And we only use pure and simple ingredients in our products. You won’t find additives, preservatives or any ingredients you can’t pronounce.”

That kind of stuff is either important to you or it’s not, Kathy. Or it is — some of the time, only when you want to brag.

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