I'm in the process of making dinner right now, (it's on the stove so I have a few minutes to blog) and it's no wonder the wind's outta my sails when I attempt to cook. I got some Pollo Asada and thought it would go great with some Jambalaya rice, sort of a Pollalaya combo if you will. Earlier today when I was shopping for the rice mixture (of course I'm not making this sh*t from scratch) I was careful to select one with a lower carb count. I do watch my carbs, especially in the evening because women have a tendency to stop burning their carbs in the late afternoon so I don't like to overdo it. And you know what? It works. Most of the boxes had a per serving carb count of anywhere between 40 and 46 grams so I said "SCREW THAT!" (literally out loud in the aisles.) I was about to move onto to something else when I picked up one last box, glanced at the carbs and saw 29g so I said, "Hallelujah" and tossed it into my cart.
Well now I'm home, whipping up this sweet smellin' meal and I take a closer look at the box and see that it says, "SERVES SIX". I think, "Are you kidding me? This tiny little packet of rice serves six full grown human beings?!?" Then I examine the nutritional information on the side a bit more closely and see that a serving size equates to THREE TABLESPOONS! What is this? The Paris Hilton/Calista Flockhart portion sized meal plan? Ok the last time I was able to feel comfortably satiated by 3 tablespoons of anything was.....NEVER?!? I'm sooo pissed right now. I actually consumed HALF of my meal by simply testing out a spoonful of this rice to see if it was done. What a let down.
I scooped out 3 tbsps of the rice and put them on our plates and it looked like golf balls in a bathtub. So I added another 3, and still it didn't even fill up half the plate. Needless to say Tom and I consumed enough for 6 people so we'll both be hitting the gym extra hard tomorrow. Stupid, dumb rice.
4 comments:
Hmmm....I find it interesting (although NOT surprising) that you refuse to make dinner for your husband and yourself from scratch, yet you have no problem making pumpkin dog treats from scratch. You are warped, Lady!!! Tom, anytime you want to move back to Chicago, and live with a hot, Italian who cooks everything from scratch, give me a jingle ;-) And, I promise, you won't have to share the table with a psycho cat, either!
Ha! That's pretty funny and perceptive of you. I didn't even realize that. I'd churn my own butter for these animals! But for Tom and I, I usually get the ready made stuff.
I'm sure Tom would be beyond spoiled at your house especially if you made him Italian beef from time to time. He may not even miss sharing the table (and part of his meal) with the evil beast, Chumley.
When should I ship him off to you?
Thanks for clarifying which evil beast you were talking about. You can ship him yesterday, by the way! ;-)
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