GOVERNMENT WARNING: (1) According to the Surgeon general, if you leave an open box of Trader Joe's chocoloate truffles in the refridgerator, there is a strong likelihood that Ladygoat will consume them, even if it is not exactly her box of chocolates but is technically Foodgoat's birthday present. (2) The likelihood that Ladygoat will consume your chocolate truffles increases the farther you are from the kitchen. (3) Consumption of Trader Joe's chocolate truffles impairs your ability to care about anything else, and may cause temporary, but significant, pleasure.

If it's Fillet O'Fish, it must be a Holy Day
Yesterday was Ash Wednesday, so I got through the fasting period by wondering whether Jesus every mooned anyone. I bet he did. All the time. Wearing that dress and all.

I had picked up two tilapia fillets at the West Side Market, which I've never had before, but have always wanted to try because it's one of the few seafoods that is in fact ecologically-friendly. Why? Most tilapia (which are native to the Nile) in the U.S. are farmed in inland recirculating systems that have little impact on the environment and thrive on inexpensive vegetable-based foods (instead of fish feed), making them a good source of eco-friendly protein.

Foodgoat, whose Iron-Chef-like abilities to invent recipes on the spot have been quite impressive lately, whipped up a fancy version of Fillet O'Fish: tilapia fillet fried with a crust of fresh whole wheat bread crumbs and parsley with roasted red onions and a sauce (made of mayo, olive oil, green onions, mustard, hot sauce, lemon, and garlic) on onion rolls. With a side of wasabi shrimp chips.


The crust was wonderful (it was Foodgoat's first time using fresh bread crumbs), but it was the tilapia that was perfect: mild-tasting and flaky and delicious. Foodgoat has had fried fish before, but this was one good fried fish. We may be having a lot of tilapia this Lent.

The Life Stages of One Ohio Deer

1. Happy-woodland-animal stage. Main activities include foraging, frolicking, and stopping like fools in the middle of the road and knocking the rearview mirrors off Honda Accords.

2. Population-control stage. In the epic struggle between man and beast, in the wild fields of Ohio, Foodgoat's brother emerges, once again, triumphant and victorious.

And after he slew the creature, he, alone, unsheathed his mighty blade and ... well, we're not exactly sure how he did it (Foodgoat in particular would rather not think about the gory details), but what he turned it all into nicely butchered meat wrapped in clean white freezer paper.

If your parents ever abandon you in the forest, Foodgoat's brother would be a handy person to have nearby.


3. Juicy-slab-of-meat stage. This is the stage in which we here at Foodgoat first encounter the deer (let's just call it venison now, okay?). Is this not a fine-looking piece of meat? Red like tuna and hardly any fat at all. We were so impressed we admired it for several minutes and took a picture.


4. Venison-goulash stage. Foodgoat used this first bit of venison for goulash stew. Actually, you can't really see the venison in the picture, just the dumplings, but trust me, there's meat in it. Foodgoat has had venison before, but it was the first time for me. It was delicious, and surprisingly tender. The taste is definitely different from beef, and I'm not exactly sure how it's different, but I liked it. Enough to go hunting myself? Hmm, I don't know about that. However, I have always wanted a crossbow. Then again, I never did manage to get very far into Nintendo Duck Hunt.

Hot Chocolate for a Lazy Day
Yesterday was a lazy Sunday: I wore my pajamas all day long, helped myself to ice cream several times, and waited for the agonizing convulsions of pain that everyone assured me would eventually come after my wisdom teeth were pulled (they never came ... so my advice is to go with the local anasthesia). So it was right kind of day to watch the tres-cute "Chocolat", which celebrates the seductive powers of chocolate and the Johnny Depp pirate look.

Inspired, we started watching "Pirates of the Caribbean", but first we decided to fortify ourselves with steaming cups of hot chocolate. What better time to try out the packet of Aztec Hot Chocolate mix from the Soho chocolatier, Mariebelle, that I picked it up at a gourmet shop in Berkeley?

The hot chocolate mix is made from Belgian chocolate and sugar, and, weirdly, contains no cocoa powder (which is the residue from the cocoa bean, instead of the bean itself) but does contain such spices as chili peppers.

Ah, but it turned out very cozy. Not too sweet, comfortingly chocolatey, and the spiciness was just barely noticeable. I don't think I'll be giving up chocolate this Lent.

For medicinal use ... no, really!

After Friday, I was hurtin'. I had some Advil, some Vicodin, and ice cream. But I had a hankering for something else, something natural ... something medicinal.

So these guys I know, they have the best shiznit, I mean, quality stuff, youknowwhatI'msayin'? Like they even know the growers, man. I can't use that cheap stuff anymore, you know, that stuff you can get like anywhere. I only use the good stuff.

So, we're there, and we get, like, half a pound of the Guatamalan. This stuff's organic, dude. Shade-grown and shiznit. But that's not all they got. Nah, they got everything there, and I mean, like everything. The rare stuff. The expensive stuff. Stuff even I haven't had before. But you only live once, so I ask him, not too loud, 'cuz there are people all over, "You got any white tea?"

White tea, often from China, comes from the same plant as green and black teas, but the tiny buds (still covered in downy white hair) are withered and dried in natural sunlight without rolling or fermenting, thus preserving all them healing antioxidants and blood-clot-promoting tannins. Being rarer, it's also more expensive.


"White tea?" He's rummaging in his stash behind the counter. "Uhh, well, all we have today is a white tea with a melon flavor. The other kind, we don't have any in right now. Maybe in a couple weeks."

"What's the melon one like?" A scoop of tea leaves is pushed under my nose. I try not to snort them in. Defiinitely cantaloupe-y. "Some people say you can't really taste it once it's brewed. Some people like it."

I would be one of those people. White tea is pale, light and subtle. Almost sweet. Like it doesn't even need sugar or honey.

"I'll take an ounce." They put a small handful of the dried tea leaves in a plastic baggie. Man, if he didn't write "White Melon" on it with a Sharpie, and we got pulled over, they might think this was something else.

Duuude, I'd be freaking out.