making a gyro smashterpiece

Gastronomy Week, Part V: But Ah, Me– I’m Such a Dunce! I Went and Ate Them All At Once.

Well, I didn’t, actually, but I’ve always thought that particular bit of Mr. Shel Silverstein’s doggerel was quite apt–for the human female, at least.  Don’t get in the way of her fork when she’s hitting her stride, is all I’m saying.

But still, I was looking through some old photos today, and I found a fair number that are of my beloved and me sampling various sorts of Midgardian cuisine.   Just so no one can accuse us of being picky eaters, I present this evidence:

We tried the new Vietnamese noodle house next to the place where we had the yummy sandwiches not too long ago.


You can’t really tell from the photo, but there are noodles under all of that lemongrass beef, pickled carrots and daikon, cilantro, peanuts, and crispy onions.

We also tried the spring rolls.


I was deeply suspicious of the dipping mixture, until I figured out it was peanut sauce and not chocolate pudding.  I’m adventurous, but shrimp and chocolate pudding?  That’s a hard “no.”

Sometimes, on the way home from work, we’ll all stop at a salad bar and make our own foliaceous concoctions.  Lettuce, spinach, peas, carrots, cucumber, peppers, apple, nuts, zucchini, mushrooms, artichokes, cranberries, croutons, spicy rice crackers, sunflower seeds, and one olive for each of us.


Plus that mini corn muffin there.   And an egg. 

On a colder day, we tried a pot pie from the same establishment.


I’m not a trained chef, but I don’t think it counts as pie if it’s just stew with a pastry hat.

The best burgers in town come from a little dive of a place owned by a nice Korean family.  I have written of this place and its confusing decor before.


Sigyn is excited because she found out she can request grilled onions.

Then there was the time the humans decided to make their own gyro sandwiches.  That requires the construction of a “meat brick” to shave slices off of, and they actually found a recipe for one!  This is an actual, foil-wrapped brick with a loaf of meat under it, getting good and dense.


I know. It seemed silly to me, too.

On hot days, when all we want is a little something, Sigyn and I like to get sushi.  We both like the California rolls and the Philly rolls.


But I loathe this green stuff with the white hot fury of a thousand suns.  Which, incidentally, is how it makes your sinuses feel if you eat it.  (Worst guacamole EVER.)

And, finally, a photo we took at the midsummer medieval concert we went to.  There’s always a little reception afterwards.  It is Sigyn’s contention that something like this counts as a serving of fruit.


Works for me.

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