Poisoned…By LOVE.

Sooooo, I am able to create this blog solely based on the fact that the food at my tennis banquet (I heart the 2010 Wildcats!) has tried to kill me.  No shit, whatsoever.  I mean, literally, no poop.  At this point.  It is just…well, getting rid of the evil within.  Quickly, with great force, and with blogging between episodes, because I have to do SOMETHING to keep my mind off my roiling tummy.

Huh.  I suppose I should continue to expound about whatever it is I want to make this blog about.  For instance, the name:  iheartpaneer.  Paneer, if you don’t know, is an Indian cheese:  it holds up well as a protein in many traditional dishes, and kicks major ass in the yum-yum department, in my opinion.  Shahi paneer, maater paneer…Fricking awesome.  My mother, with ye ol’ sensitive tummy, shouts for rice dishes:  Peas Pullao, Biryani… And claims (blasphemously) that paneer is not the bomb.com.  I beg to differ.  You know tofu, yes?  It tastes of terrible things, like sweat socks, bad memories, and the undergarments of untoward women.  Probably.  I don’t eat any of the above, including tofu, if I can help it.  ANYWAY.  Paneer ain’t tofu, people.  It is rich, creamy, capable of soaking up a sauce (the only virtue of the soybean bricks known as tofu) and absolutely YUMMMMM.  I cherry-pick these nuggets of glory from the Indian buffets that we frequent on the weekends…with NO SHAME.  I stand in my blond glory, gacking all the paneer, as people pile up in line behind me, grumbling.  Why?  “Cause I GOT TO!

Oh… Got to run for a sec.  Ugh….


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