While living with a woman in my early 20s, I had the privilege of eating a "family dish" in her company. She didn't allow me to watch her make it, as it was a secret, but I was able to remember the ingredients from the look on the plate. I spent a few days googling up recipes including the ingredients, and found one that I believed to be correct. I saved the recipe off of a website called "Buda Bites," which has since closed. I've had the Americanized Turos Csusza (made with cottage cheese rather than farmer's cheese), but not the Lesco. Included is the blurb about author Carolyn Banfalvi 's thoughts and opinions, as well as the recipe: One of my all-time favorite Hungarian dishes is túrós csusza. And it’s even better when it’s served with lecsó. Túrós csusza is essentially pasta with curd cheese (either cow’s or sheep’s milk)* and lecsó is pepper and tomato stew seasoned with paprika. It only requires simple ingredients, and I could eat it nigh...
I love it. I love to cook with it. When I mention that I cook with bacon grease, I get reactions between brow raises and "eeeewww"s, but hear me out. Everything tastes better with bacon. Seriously. I'm not saying replace your butter with bacon, but sometimes? Replace your butter with bacon. Or at least half of it. Consider, if you will, pan fries or hash browns. What do you cook 'em in? Butter? Oil? Try bacon grease. Now your pan fries/hash browns are 100% more awesome. Cooking onions? Bacon grease. Making apple sauce to pour over your pork chops or your (non-kosher) potato pancakes? Bacon grease. Mashed potatoes? Noodle dish that needs a little more oomph? Roasted veggies? Green beans? Corn Muffins? Bread crumb topping? Beschamel/White sauce? Sing it if you know the words. Here's some stats according to LoseIt.com, my calorie/exercise counter website. Each of these is one tablespoon measureme...
I can't remember when it was, or who said it, but I remember how I felt afterward. I felt stunned. It was like being slapped. I immediately knew that I was the wrong kind of different, not the right one. I remember hating myself every moment I saw myself in a mirror after that. I remember crying a lot. I remember a few years in my early teens where I worked out so hard that my body ached for days. I remember how horrible I felt going into Lane Bryant for the first time because I couldn't find jeans at Sears or JCPenny that fit me right. I remember starving myself, thinking it would make the words and the weight go away. It didn't. Even if I lost the weight, I was always going to remember how it felt. About six months ago, my niece saw the stretch marks on my stomach for the first time and told me they were ugly and that she wasn't going to have them. I went in my room and cried. Not much longer after that, there was an incident where she called a girl in a ma...
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