Everyone Loves Their Own Brand

My brother and I are currently involved in a heated discussion over text message (this is in and of itself rather amusing, given how many years he held out against text messaging as something completely unnecessary).  The discussion revolves around wether or not he ever locked the windows in our old Honda Accord and farted, then giggled his butt off as we attempted to vacate the premises or ventilate the area, all the while moving at highway speeds.  

He texted me to ascertain if, in fact, the car even had a master control switch for the windows.  It did.  It was a child-safety button on the driver door, grouped in with the rest of the window controls, mirror controls and door locks.  I confirmed that yes, it did have this device, and then volunteered the fact that he used to think it was hilarious to push it, break ass, and then laugh at our pitiful struggles to escape the stench.  

Not only did he deny having done this on any occasion, ever, he accused me of colluding with my younger sister to make up stories about the shit he used to do to us in his role as eldest sibling.  This, to put it mildly, blew my fragile little mind.  Him not remembering it?  That's perfectly understandable, I can see how it would be a far more memorable experience on the receiving end.  Him not being immediately proud of his cleverness?  Very unusual, to say the least.  Him actually getting angry and resentful and accusing me of taking the time to fabricate new events from our adolescence?  Twilight zone.

I don't NEED to make up stuff like this.  We were all clever children and had a relatively normal sibling dynamic, ergo, we often used each other as sources of amusement.  

So odd.

Badger Burgers (Mushroom Mushroom)

While perusing the Internet recently, I came across an interesting recipe for burgers.  Interesting, yes, but not quite interesting enough.  I took it and ran.  The result was Badger Burgers.  Makes 8 patties.

0.5 kg Ground Bison

0.5 kg Ground Turkey thigh

4 strips of bacon

2 tsp fresh rosemary

2 tsp fresh sage

2 tsp fresh oregano

1 tsp salt

8 Portobello mushroom caps

Olive oil

Pretty simple.  Mix the meat and herbs, form into patties, cook with grilling method of choice.  There being a blizzard outside, I used my George Foreman Grill. 

Brush the mushroom caps with olive oil, maybe a little salt (or garlic salt... next time).  Again, grill using method of choice.

Stick it on a bun with some greenery.  Bam.  

BurgerTime (tm)

Goddamn, I want a hamburger.  

I've been living gluten free for two years now, give or take a few months in either direction.  This is a necessary thing.  When you put wheat gluten, or that of barley and rye (and to a lesser extent, oats) in my body, a curious thing happens:  I get dumb.  Very dumb.  I lose access to my long term memory, have a difficult time processing new information, my reflexes slow dramatically and, perhaps most oddly, my eyes stop tearing.  This lasts for anywhere from two hours to a day.  Somewhere in the nature of 7% of celiacs suffer these same symptoms, rather than get "the poops."  While I have yet to be formally diagnosed as such, I have reproduced these symptoms often enough that it simply makes sense to behave as if I were a celiac.

This has further necessitated a radical alteration of my diet.  I know, I'm only removing one foodstuff; you wouldn't think that would be so complicated, yet...  Everything deep-fried is breaded.  Candy manufacturers dust rollers with wheat flour to prevent sticking of products, particularly chocolate.  Restaurants thicken their soups with flour.  Most pernicious is modified corn starch, which is a ubiquitous thickener of sauces, yogurts, creams, and everything low fat.  Modified cornstarch is not always, but usually, modified in such a way that includes the addition of wheat gluten.  This prompts a less severe response from my body, but it's there all the same.  

What this means for me is that it is very difficult to eat at restaurants, and that certain things are off limits unless I make them myself, or feel willing to pay three or four times as much for an equivalent product that lacks the offending ingredients.  The first two months of this were pure torture.  Constant food cravings, watching my friends eat things I loved, never really feeling full, and a significant lack of convenience.   These feelings have largely subsided, as one should logically expect.  However, I do occasionally keenly miss certain items of food, most notably variations on the sandwich.  

Yes, I know that gluten free bread abounds in variety at health and organic food stores, and even to a lesser extent at mainstream supermarkets; but this bread is expensive and, quite frankly, a poor facsimile.  It is brittle and usually of lesser dimensions, making for smaller and harder to eat items that are, because of these traits, generally less enjoyable.  These facts make it much easier to cut wheat and its related cultivars out of my life entirely, though I must admit that the temptation to eat what I want and just be stupid for a day rears its head every so often.

Today is one of those days.  I will not succumb, but I sharply crave a hamburger.  Specifically, I am craving a Wendy's classic triple, an Everest-like mountain of beef and bread.  I want to make a base camp in the lee of the second patty, and would risk losing a few other climbers on the way to the top.  Luckily for me, there's a 3g network there now, so if things get to hairy we can call for help.  

Or fries.