The thought of a career as a Victoria’s Secret model honestly makes me want to vomit.
Yes, it’s somewhat because of the always-have-to-be-physically-fit part of it, and I just don’t have an affinity for exercising. And there’s also the crazy dieting thing – 500-calorie diets are not something I would ever subscribe to, mind you. Not to mention the fact that I pledged my allegiance to the wine vendors of the world long ago, so it’s clearly a conflict of interest.
And that you-know-you’re-always-in-old-men’s-wet-dreams portion, which is equally revolting.
But most of all, I really just hate bras.
Don’t get me wrong – I completely see the need for them, most of the time. I don’t think Aunt Ida should walk around bare-breasted with her double D’s flopping around for the world to see, knocking unsuspecting little children unconscious as they pass.
And I know there are some really pretty, feminine styles that give you the oomph you need to turn heads, which in some occasions, is completely warranted and sometimes even necessary.
But for the most part, if I could go bra-less for the rest of my life, you bet your ass I would.
Call it claustrophobia, call it an oddity – call it whatever you want. But the first thing I do when I walk in the door of my house after a long day at work is give a quick twist of the hooks and sigh in relief when the girls are free. Pair that with a nice Cabernet, and you’ve got yourself a nice little evening.
But onto slightly less important things.
Boyfriend is at another Super Important Meeting (see how important it was? It warranted capitalization.) this evening, so I was, sigh, left to fend for myself again at dinnertime.
In case you weren’t aware, I’m not what the average person would refer to as a “good cook.”
Alright, I’ll be honest – I can throw together something edible if absolutely necessary. But I’ve also been known to throw together some very not-so-edible meals, i.e. the crackers-dipped-in-barbecue-sauce combo I made up in college, which was only thwarted by my landing a job at a decently high-class, non-chain steakhouse in town, meaning there wasn’t a stuffy corporation to slap me on the wrist for (what’s a nicer word for stealing…removing?) removing delectable dishes (fine – it was actually just me taking home appetizers the cooks gladly made me. No stealing was ever involved or even necessary) from the kitchen on my way home to my apartment. In other words, if it wasn’t for Stables Steakhouse, I would have either starved or gained 100 pounds while at Indiana State University.
But I digress.
On some (very, very seldom) occasions, I find myself actually in the mood to try my hand at cooking some kind of “fancy” (read: not canned or microwaved) cuisine.
Lucky for you, tonight is just one of those occasions.
Dijon-crusted tilapia with Spanish rice.
The bright side: Zatarain’s boxed Spanish rice is both delicious and super easy to make, provided you can read and follow directions. Generally, I can. (Follow directions, that is. I can always read. For the most part.)
Note: I fairly enjoyed eating the product produced from this recipe. But as Boyfriend tends to only like one out of approximately 42 things I make, I suggest you use your own judgment. And swear not to blame me if you dislike it.
2 Tilapia fillets (it called for four, but why would I eat that many by myself? Silly recipes.)
2 T. Light mayo
2 t. Dijon mustard
1 c. panko breadcrumbs
1/2 c. regular breadcrumbs
1/2 t. paprika
1 t. dried parsley
1/2 t. onion powder
1/2 t. salt
dash of pepper
If you’re using frozen tilapia fillets, defrost them.
While they’re defrosting, you can prepare the crusting stuff. First, take the Dijon and the mayo.
And mix them.
Then, take the paprika, the onion powder, the parsley, the salt and the pepper:
And combine them.
When your tilapia fillets are defrosted, dab them with a paper towel.
Then coat them with the Dijon/mayo mixture.
Then cover them with the spice mixture.
Then bake them at 400 degrees for 16-18 minutes. And pull them out of the oven looking like this.
And plate them to your liking.
Then pour yourself another glass of wine. You’ve deserved it.
God, you’re a good cook.
Note: I ended up eating the tilapila with a homemade cocktail sauce, 1. because it was just a smidgen on the dry side and 2. because I really, really enjoy a homemade cocktail sauce. In case you aren’t a cocktail sauce aficionado like myself, just combine ketchup, horseradish and a dash of lemon juice in a ramekin (the more horseradish, the spicier). Just don’t forget the wine.