People do not realize that having a food blog is really hard work. Collecting the data is the fun part but battling the bulge can be less exciting. If I had to break down my time management, I would say 30% of the time I’m not at work (which is a fair 60% of the time) I’m at the gym working the foodies off. That gives me 10% of time where I can actually apply my data to a post for your enjoyment. When my audience connects with me through social media questions generally start to arise like, “Where exactly do you put all that food you’re eating?” Well, I put it right in my pie hole and then I have to suffer the consequences just like everyone else. Mystery solved…The life is not easy for PeanutPimpMama when she wants to eat all the things!
Since I was traveling through L.A. to collect maximum foodie-data, fitness was a priority along with eating and of course visiting friends and family. Thankfully they were just as supportive about getting some sports in as much as my yum yumz. Through my research on the Googlay I came across “Beach Yoga with Brad”. I would like to introduce you all to Brad (pictured above) who teaches yoga on the Santa Monica beach every Saturday and Sunday morning from 10:30am-12:00pm.
For only $10.00 you can experience the joy of a zen yoga class on one of the most beautiful beaches of the “Best Coast”. Really you can’t beat this great deal! You get 90 minutes of exercise with a beautiful view, free suntan lotion (in case you forgot your own) and a thorough photo shoot taken (in the moment) by Brad himself. Trust me, he doesn’t miss a pose or angle! Care to know what you look like first thing in the morning (hungover) doing Parivrtta Pārśvakonasana in the sand? Now you can since Brad likes to feature his photos conveniently on his facebook page!
My friend and I agreed that downward facing dog was the most interesting experience we may have had in a yoga class…ever. He made us all line up facing away from the sea. Then he asked us to bend over in unison and take in the view. It was a new perspective for all I would imagine. What a true L.A. experience! I walked away feeling 100% rejuvenated and ready to face the world. By golly gee, I think I left with the same smile Brad had on that day.
(PPM does L.A. Right 2014)
For More Information: www.bradkeimach.com
Questions, Comments, Concerns please email to: PeanutPimpMama@aol.com
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MORE THAN PINK WINE.
BRIGHT RED HAIR. Rose Colored Glasses. Fashion. Freckles. Lipstick and Nails. “5 ugly pounds”. Irish brogue. Love of The QUEEN. Keds. A whole basket of Keds. Gold Rings. Watches- sometimes three. Perfume. Curling Iron. Listerine. Prune juice in a Fancy Glass. Anything in a FANCY Glass when you’re three. SUNDAYS at G’mas. Tea Cups. Antiques. Knickknacks. “It was my mother’s”. Clutter. Dust. Car Rides. The CHURCH with the Red Doors. Sunday School. Bible Studies. Youth Group. Picking up fresh bread on Main Street. Movies. Checkers and Chess. Andy. Really Long Hugs. The Wizard of Oz. TV. Alf. Chickenpox. Chocolates. Crystal Candy Dishes. Chips and Dip with Onions. Dunkin Donuts. Coffee. Sunday mornings. The fridge. That smell. FUR. Overcooked Pasta. Oddly Shaped Meatballs. Baking. FAMILY. Cousins. Fun. LOVE. Camcorder Videos. An Ancient VCR. The atomic Microwave. Projected family films. Buried TIME Capsules. Pizza Hut Allowances. Living Room Sleepovers. A photo with a LEGACY. WARM Fires. THE HALLWAY. The creepy hallway statue. Scaring ourselves. Ghosts. Hiding. Trespassing through the woods. The HILL. Running down the hill. Sledding. Flower Patrol. Climbing Trees. Climbing the Roof. Climbing ladders. Climbing everything without permission especially if you were girls. CATS. Buttons and Bows. GROWING with the Backyard TREE. Poison Ivy. Lawn Mowing. The driveway full of cars. My tricycle. A house always FULL of people. Bunnies. Manners, minding them or not minding them- but learning. Pushing buttons. Old reminiscent STORIES. Stories on REPEAT. The INTERCOM. The Irish Rovers. The Unicorn Song. Puff the Magic Dragon. The scary basement. Imaginary Friends. Ziggy or Diggy… Something with an -iggy. Moths. Moth Balls. HOLIDAYS. The mysterious never ending supply of olives and onions. Creamed Onions. Overindulging. Anne’s Greek Salad. Macaroni and Cheese. Lumpy Mashed Potatoes. Sit-downs gone Buffet. Fold Out Tables. Cigarettes. Uncle Bob’s bad jokes. Aunt Sue’s cackle. Uncle Kenny falling asleep. Laughter. Generosity. Candy Lifesavers. Chomping. Imbibing. Always so much to do. There’s just not enough time.
Pink Wine, a reminder. <3
They say giving is really good for you. It makes you happy and emotionally healthy, it promotes social connection, evokes gratitude and it’s kind of contagious. It’s how I feel every time I sit down with people to eat, or make batches of cupcakes in particular. I was a really late bloomer when it came to cooking, mostly by happenstance. It’s really hard to bust out dinners or bake when dealing with obstacles such as living in metropolitan cities where having a stove with more than two burners is novel. You do what you can! Thankfully IKEA is well aware of this domestic set-back with all of their mini convection ovens.
I love brunch like every other NY’er. We crawl the five boroughs (weekly) in search of the perfect Bloody Mary or Mimosa and marvel at any other breakfast-tails mixologists are daring enough to attempt. Once in a while it is nice to kick back and have all of this fun in your own home, especially when you finally have a grown-up stove, a liquor store downstairs and punctual friends to bring over the OJ. The famous KK (Pictured Above) was actually so excited about brunch she turned up at 4:45am.
It’s also great when you have someone to cook for…Myrtle (one of my roommates) likes this. She was sad she wasn’t able to partake in pancakes or mimosas.
So hooray for griddles! I dare to associate myself with foodies around the globe and yet I’ve never had the liberty of making pancakes on one of these. I’ve always used a small pan. You know how it is if you use a large one… They start running into each other and before you know it you have a stack of oddly shaped buttery masses.Unacceptable .
Pancakes are funny little things. The first batch always comes out amazing (golden brown) because you have the patience. That always seems to wane as you start to salivate thinking about putting them in your mouth. Awe, look at my little jar of Italian instant-coffee on the table. It sure brings back some memories… I can’t wait to upgrade from the stove kettle to the Nespresso Pixie. Oh red Pixie my dear… I see you looming in the distance! I will steam the frothiest milk with you once and for all! (Next paycheck).
(A fluff piece brought to you by PPM) – I like to stay on your radar.
Address: Chez PeanutPimpMama Phone: (917)583-6676
Questions, Comments, Concerns please email to: PeanutPimpMama@aol.com
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Okay, something has been on my mind. For a decade now I have been going to the Dunkin Donuts drive through to order my “french vanilla coffee light and sweet”. Let’s face it…No one likes getting out of the car first thing in the morning. For nearly ten years I’ve noticed a lot about Dunkin Donuts’s habits, their price inflation, change of logo campaigns, audacity to print foot-long receipts, aggressive promotion of seasonal products, and to never listen when you say “Can I have one”. If you asked for one of anything it automatically means you just asked for five.
When I was 22 my then boyfriend’s sister informed me that she drank tea and coffee (rarely) and always through a straw. She had an immaculate smile for it, so I figured she was doing something right. From that point on I always drank my coffee with a stirrer, one little red stirrer which functioned as a straw. The funny part was that you could never stop Dunkin Donuts from giving out multiple stirrers. It was like cops giving out traffic tickets or better yet parking tickets. They were unavoidable and would end up all over the car, in your hand bag and if you were lucky they made it into the tight crevice between your seat and the door where you could barely reach. (I don’t recommend letting the same thing happen with parking tickets.) The Dunkin Donut helpers showed no mercy. Even if you did not want a stirrer they would be sneaky and pass your tray of bevs out the window with your change, leaving you with no free hands while automatically shoving a fist of them out the door. Hence you the coffee sipper-rer left on-the-spot and forced to accept them.
So my question today is, has anyone noticed the stirrers have changed? Instead of the old ones that had holes (which I miss dearly) we now have these cross-shaped sticks. You can’t sip through them, and it appears as though they lack in versatility. They are meant for stirring and stirring only. Who was the fool that realized if you removed the hole no one would find a reason to take them anymore? Don’t tell me that anyone actually uses them to stir. We all know they are preferred as a sipping tool, and nothing more.
Now while I’m sure they’re saving thousands of dollars and saving the earth, we need to think about the people. What about all of the irresponsible drivers out there that come up to the drive-through and want to drink (sip) while they drive? Think about all of the potential law suits they may have to face when drivers get burns on their laps! We do not want to see the Liebeck case of 1994 all over again.
With the way Dunkin Donuts measures their milk and sugar ratio to coffee served at 300 degrees celsius, I see a lot of burns and brown teeth in our near future. Here’s to cleaner cars and lack of stirrer infringement…Dunkin Donuts forces us to acclimate to these conditions once more.
They know they’ve got us. After all, “America Runs on Dunkin.”
Until Next Time,
I feel like back-billing the Taliban for all of my personal merchandise that’s been destroyed upon unnecessary check-ins or confiscated for being determined as weapons over the years.
My picnic basket’s (a.k.a. Bertha’s) dull butter knives were not allowed on Governor’s Island this past Saturday for Jazz Age Lawn Party. I was not a happy camper after going to the trouble of lugging a beautiful picnic spread!
With an entire afternoon of St. Germaine sponsored cocktails ahead of us, I was forced to leave them with security at the ferry’s dock. I knew this was not a great idea and feared the thought of an incomplete basket set. After returning to the UES (five hours later), I realized I had left them there.
With $30.00 in taxi fair, some screaming, pounding on the locked glass doors of the terminal, getting yelled at by a gang of guards, befriending a giant, and finally locating the security manager, the cutlery was retrieved.
On the up side: The woman laughed when she saw the state of my knives and told me to ask for her if I ever run into this problem again. No one takes Bertha’s butter knives. That is, unless they suspect you’ll try to conquer an island of drunken flappers …
I love a good drum circle. Yeah. So it’s true that I’ve got a little angst. I’m a child of the 90’s.
I run marathons just to eat the pasta. In my former life I was a ballerina, a skinny one with really long legs. In this life I chose food.
I can plow through an entire container of cornichons. I love anything that sparkles. I like to take pictures of food. I like to keep things interesting.
I hate not finishing what I start. Sometimes it takes me months to get through bad books and I painfully force myself anyway. Small animals hate me. I am a woman of leisure.
I am an artist in hiding. I love white cheddar popcorn. I think cameras are magical and I love capturing moments with them. Sometimes when I’m bored I watch ballet clips on Youtube. I like inspirational quotes and philisophical banter. Bikram yoga makes me feel like a million bucks.
The way to my heart is through my stomach. I heart Doritos. When they come out with a new Dorito flavor I am generally the first on line to buy. V-8 keeps my diet straight. Hot pink orchids are my favorite flower.
I love Ritter Sport bars and often contemplate why the Germans would put “Sport” on a 400 calorie chocolate bar. I firmly believe that chunky and creamy peanut butter each have their own unique purposes.
I take food seriously.
I have a pretty damn fabulous life.