Thanks for stopping by! I'm Cori and I'm happy you've found your way here. If you're wondering why my blog is called "Let's Eat Grandpa," it's an old grammar joke: Let's eat, grandpa! Let's eat grandpa! (Punctuation saves lives.) 
This week’s IMIM includes two week’s worth of cooking and training, because I’ve been a lazy blogger lately.
The first recipe I have for you is one that my mom has made on several occasions out of Sunset magazine, so I thought I’d try it myself. My parents’ took a trip last year to Alaska, and brought back some canned smoked salmon (they must love me very, very much), and I knew this would be the perfect recipe.
I made this recipe exactly as directed, and it was melt-my-face-off stellar. I took the salmon out of the can to peel off the not-so-pretty skin bits, and wanted to eat the entire can of salmon before I managed to put it in the pasta instead. I served it with a side of lightly seasoned shredded zucchini that I stir-fried in a little olive oil. The recipe made an absolute boatload of pasta (then again…I’m cooking for just me), and I was eating it for days. Reheating it was just fine — but I added a little water to the pasta before reheating, so it wouldn’t dry out.
Ten out of ten salmons! (Seriously, yo, this was some killer pasta.)
The other new dish that I tried was Lemon-Sage Chicken Cutlets, courtesy of Food Network magazine. I made this for my friend Jenn last night, and we both agreed that it was pretty darn tasty, especially when paired with wild rice and broccoli (and chocolate ice cream for dessert!). The chicken was tender and the sage (which got kind of crispy in the pan) was really delicious. Also, I got to pound chicken with a meat hammer…so, that was awesome.
The recipe, however, made my kitchen a disaster. I needed two shallow dishes in which to flour and egg-dip my cutlets, and I don’t have such dishes that were substantial enough to handle the job. The smaller shallow dishes I used overflowed when I dipped the chicken, sending egg/lemon mixture ALL OVER the counter and onto the floor. Also, there was a *poof* of flour when I dredged the chicken, which consequently stuck in the egg goo. Then there were egg/flour drips all the way to the pan. If I make this again, I’ll have to come up with a different solution. I don’t want to clean up anything last night.
Eight of ten flour-dredged cutlets.
Training Update: I have got to get my exercising mojo back. Apparently “fat butt” and “pants don’t fit” are not motivating me enough.
I’ve been to Tough Mudder training twice in the last two weeks, and both classes were difficult, since I’m not doing anything besides karate during the week (I’ve been going twice a week — testing is next week). The first TM training was Spin Plus: which was a regular spin class, except that twice we hopped off our bikes and ran up a hill and around the block. Because spin isn’t crazy enough as is. I had a problem with side cramps, which haven’t bothered me in years. I am now eating a banana a day to try and fend them off. The second TM training was Evil Yoga, which I’d like to explain here a bit, so you can fully understand what Evil Yoga truly is. (No, my trainer doesn’t call it Evil Yoga. She calls it Suspended Yoga. But really, it’s Evil Yoga.)
Yoga is hard enough for me as is — I’m not particularly flexible (especially doing front splits). My hips are always, “WTF are you doing to us?” Craaaaaamp. Charley Hoooooorse. I also do not have the greatest sense of balance, but I must say that karate is helping immensely with this. It’s been a while since I’ve randomly fallen over. Also, I am impatient. I want to go go go. Yoga says, “No. You shall bend here in this crazy position and you shall hoooooold it. Hooooold it. Hold it, bitches!” Needless to say, yoga is not my favorite thing. (Ice cream is my favorite thing.)
So let’s combine regular yoga with TRX bands strapped to the ceiling, shall we? It looks like this:
Well, not exactly like that. That girl is looking calm and pretty. (I hate her.) For me, it’s more like I’m shaking, sweating, swinging back and forth, and trying not to cry/cuss. Nearly every single position tests me to my limits. We do plank, chair, monkey, mountain, forward fold, warrior 3, some other hellish things of which I can’t remember the names. I can’t hold some of the positions for more than a second before my body crashes to the floor. It’s an hour of pure torture and I’m sore for days. Why do I do it? Because I want to know I can. I want to push myself. I want to be able to go nearly into a handstand and do a push-up while one foot is strapped to the ceiling (I am so not there yet). It’s the same reason I want to do the Tough Mudder in the first place — to show myself that I’m stronger than I ever thought possible.
I’m going to make an effort to start running again, starting on Sunday. I’m seriously looking for a treadmill on craigslist — I just cannot seem to get my butt out into the dark cold mornings to run. I’m hoping to convince my friend Hannah to do a 5k trail run with me on March 3, then a 10k run on my birthday, April 28. That should put me in good shape to do Eppie’s Great Race (run, bike, kayak triathlon) on July 22, and the Tough Mudder on September 29. I just need to keep it up. I feel so good when I do!
