this is what concerns me:

Horrifying commercial #4,296.

If you know me, you probably know I now have consistent access to cable television programming for the first time in about six years and that this means I’ve been introduced to the Food Network in all of its bloody glory. As Amy Sedaris says, “when you’re alone and high in the night,” you can switch back and forth between the Food Network and the medical shows with the box on mute and everything looks just about the same. (But I’m also kind of convinced that watching has improved my seriously sub-par vegetable chopping time significantly.)

This also, of course, means I’ve been introduced to RayRay, that ever-grinning reminder of our continued march as a culture toward the lowest common denominator. (Not to mention those recipes take at least an hour.)

Now, I find Anthony Bourdain as repugnant as any of y’all, but I just had to block quote this for posterity…

Complain all you want. It’s like railing against the pounding surf. She only grows stronger and more powerful. Her ear-shattering tones louder and louder. We KNOW she can’t cook. She shrewdly tells us so. So…what is she selling us? Really? She’s selling us satisfaction, the smug reassurance that mediocrity is quite enough. She’s a friendly, familiar face who appears regularly on our screens to tell us that “Even your dumb, lazy ass can cook this!” Wallowing in your own crapulence on your Cheeto-littered couch you watch her and think, “Hell, I could do that. I ain’t gonna but I could–if I wanted! Now where’s my damn jug a Diet Pepsi?” Where the saintly Julia Child sought to raise expectations, to enlighten us, make us better–teach us–and in fact, did, Rachael uses her strange and terrible powers to narcotize her public with her hypnotic mantra of Yummo and Evoo and Sammys. “You’re doing just fine. You don’t even have to chop an onion–you can buy it already chopped. Aspire to nothing! Just sit there. Have another Triscuit. Sleep.. sleep..

That is all.

Roommates.com felt the lengthening arm of the law this week when the 9th circuit pinched them for discrimination in a suit brought by (who else?) the San Fernando Valley. The site provides a matching service in which potential roomies have the option of requesting matches with particular genitals and proclivities (more or less).

I feel like this is akin to telling a potential employer your age and then slapping them with a discrimination suit since they aren’t allowed to ask. Roommates.com provides no actual housing service, just a social matching one, not to mention that you can decline to complete any of the “discriminatory” fields.

OkCupid, you guys are totally next. Get rid of those damn drop-down menus, though, and everything will probably be fine.

Last week Radaronline.com broke the story that there’d been allegations of cheating on the open-book, take-home ethics final (there must be a j-schooler interning there). The story was later picked up by the Times and now everyone’s freaking out about the immoral Columbia j-student body. The strangest aspect of this story is that no one is attempting to address the central issue: how, in fact, do you cheat on an open-book, take-home ethics final? It’s also strange that people seem to find this surprising, though perhaps this surprise is just hiding their glee at watching the privileged falter. Or something.

A current j-school student has started a blog dedicated only to this topic, which I might express surprise at just to hide my glee at watching the privileged be idiots. S/he vehemently defends Mr. Sam Freedman, the unfortunate new professor lecturer of the ethics course. “He’s the captain and we’re just sailing on his ship right? As long as we get to our final destination, who the hell cares?”
No comments. Now that’s surprising.

Just kidding! Burritos are actually an American-born product, a streamlined to-go snack created in the 1840s in the Southwest: meat wrapped in a flour tortilla. My meatless version is a tastier take on this classic Southwest sandwich.

Just kidding! Burritos aren’t sandwiches after all! Or are they…? Via Dictionary.com:

sand·wich, n.
1. Two or more slices of bread with a filling such as meat or cheese placed between them.
2. A partly split long or round roll containing a filling.
3. One slice of bread covered with a filling.
tor·til·la, n.
A thin disk of unleavened bread made from masa or wheat flour and baked on a hot surface.

Thus burrito = sandwich according to internet dictiomonarians + me. Now that this matter is settled with a simple equation, let me continue with the eats.

1. Fry up some firm tofu + turmeric in oil. Don’t get the turmeric on your shirt because it will stain yellow and you will look like an idiot who got turmeric on their shirt, and no one wants that.
2. Fry up some cut up potatoes + onion + bell pepper in oil. Don’t burn your hand on the pan and then disregard the burn because you’re trying to act tough even though it hurts like hell and it’s red and blistering because that’s some second degree shit, there, man, and that’s not cool at all.
3. Fry up some fakin bacons in oil. Be careful. I stress this with italics.
4. Toast a whole wheat tortilla on the stove burner. When this invariably sets off your smoke alarm, wave at it frantically with a crappy Spin magazine. Discard this in paper recycling when finished. Thanks, Spin!
5. Chop tomato and slice bits from enormous Reed avocado.
6. On plate, bottom to top: tortilla, tofu, potatoes, bacons, tomato, avocado, sweet pea sprouts, tofu sour cream, tiny sombrero.

Done!

Growing up in the San Fernando Valley (like omg) my family ate at restaurants or got take out nearly every night of the week. I chalk this up to my parents’ extremely busy schedules, plus their New York nostalgia. And now that I live in NYC, it’s very easy to do the same (especially with a Vegetarian Palate that delivers so promptly). However, these factors have not only put a large dent in my little wallet, but have also made me a relatively incompetent cook. Lately I’ve been making strides to remedy this. These cookies are the sad victims of my learning process.

This cookie recipe was taken (and subsequently mutilated) from the Vegan Family Cookbook.

Ingredients:

• 1.5 cups flour
• 1.5 teaspoons egg replacer powder
• .5 teaspoon of baking soda
• .5 teaspoon salt
• .666.. cup brown sugar (or white if that’s all you got)
• .5 cup margarine
• 2 tablespoons water
• 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
• Way too many chocolate chunks
• Way too many chopped walnuts

Preheat oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit.

1. Mix the flour + egg replacer + baking soda + salt in one bowl.
2. Mix the sugar + margarine + water + vanilla in another bowl.
3. Mix the bowl contents together.
4. Do not be alarmed that the dough is not really sticking together – just add tablespoons of water until it becomes one big creamy clump.
5. Now add way too many chocolate chunks.
6. And way too many chopped walnuts.
7. Spoon large clumps onto a nonstick cookie sheet. The VFC recipe makes 24, but this makes only a lucky 13, because the clumps are so damn big!
8. Bake for about 15 minutes or until they become nicely tanned. Do not be alarmed that the clusterfucks do not spread like normal cookies. This is to be expected.

And: Do not be alarmed that the clusterfucks look kind of gross — they taste awesome!