The Barbeardian

Hey folks.

I gotta get something off my chest. I fell off the wagon for about a month. You see, my best friend's mom came in from out of town and made authentic Mexican food almost every night. That means rice - and lots of it. And tortillas. Beans. Tortas. All kinds of delicious stuff, but stuff that I'm still trying my hardest to stay away from.

And you know what? I regret nothing.

I get to see her and have her unearthly cooking maybe once a year if I'm lucky. And the 8 lbs I gained back was totally worth it. But I think it just goes to show how easily the weight can melt off and go back on with just simply abstaining from and inversely eating carbs and grains, since I've already lost 6 of it since going back to caveman style.

But, allow me to indulge you on what tempted me to stray from the path.

This is Chicken Neapolitan, which is oven-baked chicken breast with homemade tomato sauce and cheese. Next to that we have an Argentinian beef stew with potatoes over seasoned rice. In the back there, you can see a little tower of rice with corn and peas.

This is one of the desserts we had that night, and it's easily the best cake I've ever eaten. Those who know me, know that I'm a pie guy, and on my birthday, I think I'd rather have this than my traditional blueberry pie. It's pastel frio, so yes, its served cold, but it's hard to call it an actual cake, since no baking is required. It's many alternating layers of galletitas and a sauce made of cream cheese and whipped cream and heavy cream. Basically, every kind of cream you can think of, sweetened and mixed with peaches. Let that mofo sit in the fridge over night, so it all becomes one, throw some peaches on top - and holy shit. Heaven in a bowl. I had 3 fucking helpings.

And then out of nowhere -
A WILD PEACH AND WALNUT CAKE APPEARS. IT'S SUPER EFFECTIVE.

If I had known there were 2 cakes that night, I wouldn't have gone as buckwild on the pastel frio. But being the good guest I was, I couldn't turn this mother down. It too, was a layered cake, but more in your traditional sense. In between the layers of yellow cake were diced peaches and walnuts. I'm not a huge fan of frosting, so I lopped most of it off, which I think was for the best, since after 5 pieces of cake that night, my body wasn't used to all that sugar and gave me a monster headache. Oh well, like I said, it was all worth it.

This was just one meal. Over that month I had chicken with mole sauce made from scratch, carne asada tortas, mexican spaghetti (the only way I'll eat green olives), and a lot more that I can't even remember.

Also, since I was already in the downward spiral, I started breaking in other places, too. I have breakfast every Saturday morning with a buddy of mine, and I thought, "Fuck it, I've already broken. Might as well indulge for once." So I had this:

That's motherfucking french toast with fruit salad and a berry compote on top, drizzled with honey. It was glorious. But an hour or two later, I was super hungry again. Which never happened when I had my usual mushroom and ham omelet.

So, yes, Barbeardians, it IS okay to stray from time to time. But as enticing as that path is, the path of true righteousness is paved with red meat.