Gluten Fest 2010

I spent the better part of my weekend in a carb comma. I was fat, happy and lazy all weekend. I left my house only to go to church and to find more pasta. My gluten intolerant husband was away on a “business trip” this weekend, also known as a vacation. He was in San Diego on a reward trip for his sales performance over the summer. Yes I’m bitter. Out of spiteful rebellion, I decided I would turn the weekend into what I call Gluten Fest 2010.

You see, when we moved to Atlanta I decided that the entire family would eat gluten free so that Steve never had to question if something in our home was safe for him to eat, and to save myself a lot of time and stress in the grocery store and kitchen. Most of the time, I have no problem eating gluten free. In fact, it’s been a much healthier diet for our family all around. It forces us to eat fresh food since 95% of processed foods contain some form of gluten. However, sometimes, I get a serious itch for pasta and pizza laced with gluten. And, sometimes, I need a good brownie. For two months I suppressed those needs.

Until now. Steve was gone. He was out celebrating his success, so I decided to get revenge and indulge in gluten all weekend long. Where did my maturity go? No idea. It seemed to have escaped me. For a fleeting moment, I felt guilty, but then Steve emailed me this…

Mmmm pizza

When I flung the entire cooked pizza on the floor, I knew it was karma. It was a stab of, “You can’t have your pizza, and eat it too.” But I did. The pizza landed cheese side up, and I had mopped the floor that morning, so I exercised the 30 second rule (5 and 10 seconds were just not enough).

Later that evening while I was licking brownie batter directly out of the bowl, I was contemplating how deep I was going to let this go. I was considering calling off Gluten Fest 2010, until I saw this…

Mmmmm brownie

And that was Friday night folks.

Saturday for lunch I made myself this…

Mushroom ravioli. If you have any respect at all for mushrooms, you must eat mushroom ravioli. Go to the store and buy a pack of refridgerated mushroom ravioli. Boil it. Drain it. Toss it in some olive oil. Top it with some fresh parm and a sprinkle of fresh basil. Divine. Do it! Now.

Then I had a brownie.

After that I had to take a shower to bring myself back to reality, and and prepare myself for the grand finale.

Stuffed Shells

I showered. I shaved. I went to the store and bought only what I needed to make Stuffed Shells. I spent $25 on nothing but Stuffed Shell ingredients.

Then I came home, and napped. For two hours.

When I finally woke up from my nap, I started making Stuffed Shells. It took me almost three hours from the time I started cooking until I sat down and started eating. It’s not because Stuffed Shells are complicated; it’s because I was taking my sweet time and loving every ingredient as I went along. I grated the cheese, I chopped all of the herbs, I carefully filled the shells, and when I didn’t like the way the shells looked in the baking dish, I rearranged them. While I waited for the Stuffed Shells to finish up in the oven, I did the dishes so that I could indulge in my masterpiece without a sink full of dishes ruining the ambiance.

(I was too impatient to wait for it to cool. The gooey mess didn’t make for a great picture)

The cheese, the pasta, the basil, the cheese, the pasta, the mint (Yes, I said mint. We’ll talk about that later.), the cheese, the pasta.

“Glooo-oooo-ooo-ri-a”

I ate Stuffed Shells to the point that I had to unbutton my pants.

And then I had brownie.

That was Saturday.

Sunday went something like this…

Brownie. Stuffed Shells. Brownie. Stuffed Shells. Brownie.

The End.

Later we’ll go over my recipe for Stuffed Shells (Yes, including the mint), but not now. Now, I have a brownie to finish.

Prev Post -> Haïti Aide: Comments of Hope for Haiti Next Post -> The Move – Part 5: My Worst Nightmare, I Live in the Suburbs