Under Pressure

I bought a panini press.
Not just any press, but the Breville Panini 1500 watt grill. (My friend S., who can sell sand to an Arab, and manages a William Sonoma, sold it to me a few weeks back.)
The minute it was in my grubby hands I was dreaming of the possibilities: sourdough bread, my vovo's bread, muenster, cheddar, mozzarella, basil, tomatoes, ham, turkey....this thing will even grill a steak!!!
After several uses, I was convinced that THIS is the best thing since sliced bread. I even carted it over to my grandmother's and made a ham and cheese on homemade Portuguese bread for her and my uncle. The look on their eyes was priceless when they saw three inches of bread flattened into a crispy panini of perfection.
So, imagine how hurt I was when one morning, out the door, I mentioned we'd be eating paninis for dinner and David, in his "here we go again" tone of voice said: "Okay, don't ruin this panini thing for me." To which I replied, "Did I ruin the oven and stove for you the last 15 years I've been making you dinner in it!?!"

So I stewed over his words all day. Really? Me go overboard and ruin something for him? And I started thinking of all the examples I'd like to say to him...

When Selena died and I researched every possible explanation for her untimely death and memorized the Spanish words to her songs and even sang "Bidi Bidi Bom Bom" at karaoke, did I ruin Tejano music for you?

Or the first year, back in the late 90's, when PG&E announced price hikes and I, determined to not pay those monopolizing crooks another penny, turned the thermostat so low I was reduced to walking around the house wrapped in a sleeping bag (until the day you looked at me and said, "I can't believe you talked me into this!" and cranked the heat) did I ruin saving money for you?

Or, after watching Julie and Julia and then reading every book associated with the movie, I cooked French food for a solid month, did I ruin fine dining for you?

How about the time I read all those "Behind the Ears" books about Disneyland and recited every fact and detail of Disneyland to you on that four hour drive to Anaheim, did I ruin strong business management for you?

And of course, who could forget the Sound of Music tour in Salzburg, Austria? At the end of a very hot and long summer trip across Europe you conceded and we toured the city that was once Maria VonTrapp's! We rode the tour bus with people who, like me, know that the Sound of Music is cinematic storytelling at its best. A love triangle, a singing nanny, Nazis and nuns: perfection. As tourists sang along to such hits as, "How do you solve a problem like Maria?" we had to bite our lip and not laugh at the silliness of it all. The laughter was short lived, when later that night en route to Amsterdam to catch our flight home, we were stranded in the German ghetto (direct result of aforementioned tour). After a Frau took our 130€ we were back on track, so did I ruin Julie Andrews for you?

I don't understand David's need for balance (which is highly overrated), but I'm trying to limit us to one panini night a week. The possibilities are endless...

Mexi-nini using rolls from the Mexican bakery

Cattle-nini has steak and mashed potatoes leftover from Cattleman's

Portuguesi-nini made with my grandmother's thickly sliced bread

The more cheese, the better. I think this one had muenster and Columbus ham.

Egg McNini

She dreams in color, she dreams in bread...

Can't find the butter, man...

Paula Deen and the butter controversy have become quite out of hand. Now, I'm torn since Anthony Bourdain, with his sarcastic wit, is a favorite; but Paula is my idol. I dream about having my own cooking show in my mid 60's, where I cook with an abundance of saturated fats while flirting with much younger men. Is that so wrong? Plus, Tony, isn't it quite hypocritical to call Paula "America's worst enemy" while you have chain smoked, drank yourself under the table and eaten fried poop chute in underdeveloped countries?
So in support of our Diabetic friend, a group of good friends from my school and my sister, the original foodie, traveled to see Paula and Michael (a Johnny Carson and Ed McMahon southern style) live on stage. We rode the train, drank wine with cheese, ate at Jamie's Broadway Grill, drank cappuccino at an obscure coffee shop and ate breakfast at our hotel: Citizen's Hotel. I'll let you in on a little secret: Paula was staying there, too. We saw her hubby Michael and after a very star struck Miller Lite blubbered to him, we took pictures of him crossing the street. Awkward.
And now it's time to cook for Superbowl. I have no idea who is playing but I already know the menu.