Cafe Rio... oh how I miss you.

My college years were fantastic--for many reasons.  One major reason, I have come to realize, is that both undergraduate universities I attended were within 5 minutes of a Cafe Rio. Gone are the college days of frequent (ok, obsessive) pork barbacoa salads and enchilada style burritos (with pinto beans and medium sauce, to be exact...).  Thankfully my trip to Mesa today gave me a wonderful trip down memory lane.  Americanized?  Yes.  Delicious?  Absolutely.  Nothing quite like a Cafe Rio food coma... Ahh...

Heirloom Tomato, Watermelon, & Cucumber Salad

My favorite recipe for the blistering summer heat!

¼ C. red wine vinegar

¾ tsp. salt

¼ tsp. black pepper

½ C. olive oil

3 C. watermelon chunks

3 C. coarsely chopped heirloom tomatoes

3 C. coarsely chopped cucumbers

1 C. chopped basil

½ C. chopped red onion

3/4 C. crumbled feta cheese

Combine vinegar, salt, pepper, and oil. Whisk well. Gently toss remaining ingredients in a large bowl. Pour vinaigrette over salad and toss to coat. Serve immediately. Serves 12.  

Foodie Quote of the Day

“When you wake up in the morning, Pooh,’ said Piglet at last, ‘what’s the first thing you say to yourself?’ ‘What’s for breakfast?’ said Pooh. ‘What do you say, Piglet?’ ‘I say, I wonder what’s going to happen exciting today?’ said Piglet. Pooh nodded thoughtfully. ‘It’s the same thing,’ he said.”


         - A. A. Milne, “The House at Pooh Corner”

An essay on Indian lunch Buffets... And being stubborn.

Fellow Yogis: “OM...”

Jessica: I want Indian food for lunch today….

Fellow Yogis: “OM…”

(My yoga instructor encourages us to stay present in the moment, releasing thoughts of past and future “to-dos”)

Jessica: Chicken tikka masala…. Mmmm…..

Fellow Yogis: “Namaste...”

This is how my day began today.  Not too atypical from most… beginning bright and early with thoughts of what will be on my menu for the day.  An Indian lunch buffet from Maharaja Palace sounded like just the ticket. I arrive home from yoga to a voicemail from my husband, informing me his morning clinic schedule was cancelled, and he has taken a good friend to breakfast at Cracker Barrel for his birthday.

(I have never been to Cracker Barrel. I suspect what I would find there would be mediocre chain food along the line of an Applebee’s, but I should not judge.  It’s hard to shake a story a college friend once told me about seeing a man step out of Cracker Barrel throwing up something blue in color over the railing… thoroughly grossed out?  Me too. Thank you Alex Erickson for that permanent imagery).

Because I am hungry, I am initially disappointed I am not eating pedestrian buttermilk pancakes, however, I hold on to my daydream from before—chicken tikka masala—knowing that in just a couple of hours I will be devouring the rich savory dish.

My husband pops in after Cracker Barrel to inform me of another errand he has to run—estimating he will return in 45 minutes. He gives me a somewhat vague response as to whether he will be hungry enough to go to lunch with me, but I smile, seeing the happiness that came from his morning adventures.  I spend another hour on the blasted time-share website (a whole other story) before deciding to lie down for a power nap. The dogs have their favorite toy out, and are squeaking away in puppy bliss.  Puppy bliss = no sleeping for me. I attempt to hide the toy in between my legs (under the covers), but it isn’t long until they burrow their way down there and find it. Plan B: Pups go into kennel. Jessica dozes.  After a fitful nap, I look at the clock and realize it is noon.  Maharaja palace has already been open for a half hour!  Where is Ben? I then start to become more irritable as I realize his “I’ll be home in 45-minutes” estimate came an hour and fifteen minutes ago.  In typical Ben fashion, there is no text message announcing his whereabouts, and he does not answer his phone. With stalker-like dedication, I repeatedly call his phone again and again (halfway hoping he will hear it vibrating, and halfway to make a point that he will see 7 MISSED CALLS and be racked with guilt over the agony he has caused his wife). I also realize that he needs to be at the clinic by 1:00p, and will not have time to have a slow and mindful lunch (see.. I can easily be mindful about food… why can’t I carry that into my yoga practice?).  In a huff I brush my teeth and get ready.  “I’ll show him,” I think, as I plan to be gone when he gets home, leaving him to feel so sad he missed the opportunity to have lunch with me. As I’m playing out this scenario in my head, my phone rings.  “Hello?” I say with distinct annoyance. “I’m so sorry—I left my phone on the couch,” says an appropriately apologetic husband.  He then proceeds to tell me he is just pulling into the gate.  Click.  I hang up without a closing salutation.  He calls back and I do not answer.  At this point I ask myself, is this more about making a point, or am I legitimately angry?  I decide it’s much more about making a point (enter my first voice of reason), but being one of the world’s most stubborn people, I hold “strong” in my position. Ben arrives home, and is very apologetic, offering many hugs and kisses (which I act as though I’m not interested in receiving… although… isn’t this really what I want?).  I inform him that I love him and will forgive him, but also plan to stay upset at this point.  He mentions several times that he has time to “grab” something with me before he needs to be back at school (it’s now 12:15p).  I selectively ignore his statements, knowing that my chicken tikka masala in no way fits into this “grabbing” category.  We part ways on cool terms. 

Halfway to my destination, my second voice of reason speaks to me, and I text a message to my husband bordering on sweet, but still carrying and air of displeasure. I arrive at Maharaja palace with a growling stomach.  (I realize this is one of the first times I’ve gone to eat by myself since moving to Phoenix… I really miss that about New York.  No one looks at you like you’re a sad, little, lonely person when you ask for a table for one…). I waste no time in serving myself a heaping plateful of basmati rice, chicken tikka masala, vegetable korma, mint and tamarind chutney, and spiced lamb.  The smells are already titillating my tastebuds.  I sit down at my booth (with plenty of room), and feel a small sense of pride in my nod-to-the-past solo dining experience, but feel a larger sense of loneliness, missing my husband significantly.  The korma is a perfect temperature, nicely spiced. The naan—hot out of the oven and perfectly chewy. However, I can’t help but notice it does not taste as good as the meal Ben and I shared here one week ago today.  I stare at my phone and ask myself, “Am I staring because I want to hear from Ben, or because I want to look like I have something to do to all the diners staring at this sad, little, lonely person?” I decide it is the prior. I do get a message from Ben… “Hooray!” I think to myself, then immediately jump back into my critical frame of mind: “Don’t buy into his manipulation! Let him feel how inconsiderate he was,” a voice from somewhere deep in my mind tells me, so I carefully craft a response that is not too effusive. Ben is upset, I can tell.  I’ve succeeded!  He feels bad that he was so inconsiderate!  Wait a minute… I realize (my third voice of reason) that I am the one being manipulative and uber-passive-aggressive.  Sigh.

With a full belly, and a guilty conscience, I leave the pink-walled restaurant smelling like curry.  I thought I would be happier after satiating my now 5-hour craving. What can I do to make it up to Ben?  A basket full of treats for him? Oh yeah—that’s right, I’m trying to encourage him to be more healthy.  Ok… a 30 minute massage!  Wait—he’ll come home sweaty as can be (Did I mention it is 105 and very humid today?), and the last thing he will want is for me to rub his back… What about a gift card?  Oh yeah—I’m almost out of money.  (Still adjusting to this part-time gig, and while not missing an OUNCE of my full-time work, I am missing the consistent paycheck).  I head to Sprouts to purchase some more Rainier cherries (better than any candy in the world), and decide to purchase two of Ben’s favorite carrot cake cliff bars.  Not much in the way of an apology, but it’s better than nothing.  Maybe (not likely), I’ll learn from today, and curb my stubbornness before it leads me to another isolated meal without the love of my life.  Now what’s for dinner…..?