Skip to main content

Noodles: While writing this post, I realized that I really appreciate the word “shriveled”. It serves its purpose so, so well.

That said, let’s talk about roasted vegetables.  The top 3,000+ Google search items for “lasagna” are recipe blogs (versus MY blog, ahem ahem), so I might as well delve into the wonderful world of cooking for a quick second.  Oneee Mississippppp....done.  
Anyway, there’s a movement going around (specifically, on all those recipe blogs you’re probably reading instead of this one).  It’s called “Everything tastes better if you cover it with salt and oil and roast it at 500 degrees for fifteen minutes, stirring halfway through the cooking time!”  The “ETBYCWSOR5DFMSHTCT” movement, for shortness and ease.  
I am here today to take issue with this movement.  In short, it is not true. 
Admittedly, potatoes and sweet potatoes, being the classy, upscale vegetables they are, excel under this type of treatment.  Other things do too.  I assume.  I wouldn’t know because every non-root vegetable I’ve ever roasted has either 1) been burned to a crisp (because, 500 degrees is about as hot as the surface of the sun, by gum), or, 2) shriveled into nothingness.  Did you know that roasting alone can turn three cups of broccoli into 1/8 teaspoon of broccoli?  It’s true. 
Root vegetables, on the other hand, retain their mass and take at least four times longer to cook than the recipes advise.  I would mind this more, except it guarantees they won’t incinerate while my back is turned.  Feeling confident in my root vegetable roasting abilities (RVRA’s), I roasted some beets last week.  They behaved well in the oven, barely screamed at all, unlike carrots, which shout obscenities the whole time they’re cooking.  
Unfortunately, when the beets came out of the oven, roasty, toasty, crinkly-edged and beaming, they were still beets.  The food bloggers will have you believe that roasting turns all vegetables into French fries (turnip fries, anyone?).  Just cut it in long strips, salt it, and stick it in the oven, then serve it to your ecstatically thankful children with homemade organically grown ketchup, for optional dipping.  
Friends.  
Beets, when roasted, do not taste like French fries.  They taste like beets.  Except more so.  
I consider this to be a public service announcement.  You have been warned

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Welcome to Weirdness!

Hi, world, and welcome to “The Password’s Lasagna”!  One day I’ll share where that name came from - for now, just revel in the wonderful idioticity of the word “Lasagna”.  Say it over and over again.  Let it flip off your tongue in all its gleeful lasagnaness.  Say it until it means nothing, say it ‘til it means everything.  Lasagna.  It’s a word with many layers.  Moving on quickly now... I have to wonder if, in a year, I will regret this first post.  I’ll think “what kind of imbecilic idiot was I, to think starting a blog would be a good idea?”  As if there aren’t more constructive things to do.  Like...fishing.  Or hunter-gathering (which is the sport of gathering as many hunters as possible in one weekend and stuffing them all in the back of a closed pickup, preferably with a limb or so hanging out and dripping blood).  Or making clay...things.  Useful things.  Mugs and the like.  Or I could be chillin...

Noodles: It’s autumn, all of you.

Hi world.  It’s me, your favorite super sheltered, extremely Scandinavian, strangely endearing pile of soggy, tomato-drenched crinkly noodles! Otherwise known as Baby Swedish Lasagna under an Inadequate Tent. The reason I bring up my origins is this: I grew up without hearing anyone say “y’all”.  I believe the contraction never crossed my path outside of a book until middle school, when it became trendy among my equally sheltered, pale-skinned friends. I started saying it often, with little understanding of its pronunciation, spelling, or proper usage. At some point, perhaps in a fit of cultural sensitivity, maybe after the madness of middle school had seeped out of my neurons, I stopped using it. Except in emails. Yes, my friends, I am an email y’aller.  It just works for the already-awkward group conversations.  There’s honestly no equivalent in northern dialect.  Check it out. “You guys.”  Offensive to feminists. “You girls.”  Offensive...

Cheese: I think I know what “disconcerting” truly is now.

It’s hearing someone whisper the words “hot and spicy pizza” out of context while your back is turned to them and what they’re saying is literally none of your business and three inch long unidentified bugs are landing in your hair. But that’s beside the point.  Today is all about the cartoons, after all.  Unfortunately, I don’t have any prepared except one which might possibly be the most subversive cartoon I’ve done to date.  Again, most unfortunately, I’m not in the mood to shock and offend at this exact moment, so I’m going to take the easy road and publish this completely unnoffensive little sketch of a cute mushroom-hatted person.  (Psst, it’s not funny, it’s just cute and I don’t know why I expect you to want to look at it, but just humor me.)