A night off with Onions and Chocolate

This week Jeff and I had the pleasure of going to Liz and Woody’s for dinner. This is there house. It is all Mexican Hacienda on the outside. Don’t you want to live here?

First, and undocumented, Liz and I had to wrangle all the black widow spiders that had been creeping on her grill. Don’t worry — we got them all. Then, Liz had to start the coals up.

Cleo had to stay in dog jail, because she kept on running into the front yard. Confined to the porch she was…

And now the hot coals are moved to the grill.

This little guy got away from us in the beginning, during the first spider massacre.

Pre-marinaded meat from TJ’s? Yes, please. Liz’s TJ’s has some, ours doesn’t.

Cleo sits nicely with Jeff.

My beer cozy for the night.

Anaheim peppers, to be stuffed. We used Poblanos as well.

Back outside, to check the fire.

Woody arrives home to see our progress.

The coals are to be moved to the grate below, and Woody and Liz accomplish this, in white shirts, nonetheless!

Jeff and Cleo, fixing the Internet.

For stuffing the peppers: rice, queso fresco, taco seasoning, salt, fresh oregano.

Checking the meat…

Stuffing the peppers!

Delicious.

Onto the grill they go.

Mmmm, meaty.

With roasted tortillas? Perfection. I got a little fancy with mine.

Jeff’s more traditional carne asada. With cilantro. Which I stayed away from.

Cilantro Patterns.

For those of you out there who maybe don’t know: I hate cilantro. I don’t know why, as I like pretty much everything else on this planet (except I cannot handle spicy food because it makes me hiccup, and I hate sneaky carrots.)

When I was in China, a terrible taste kept passing over my lips. I couldn’t figure out what it was I hated so much, until one day my roommate Laura and I went to a make-your-own bowl restaurant, and she grabbed a fistful of cilantro, adding it to her bowl. I realized that the greenery in her bowl was offensively smelly, and said, “What IS that stuff??” She said, “Ah ha! cilantro. I guess you hate cilantro.” And she was right: I do.

It’s not that I don’t try. Don’t get me wrong. I have tasted it on occasion at restaurants around town with Liz, putting some in my mouth each time just to double check. As of now, I still don’t like it. I sampled it at Cheesecake Factory with Andrew and Jeff: still don’t like it. It’s in salsa, and I eat it anyways, determined not to let it ruin my meal. I recently bought Jeff a jar of dried cilantro for him to add to meals since I never use it in our cooking, and since he LOVES cilantro.

The point is: I am trying to like it. I just can’t get behind the fact that I don’t like some leafy green some people eat every day. Who I am to judge? Aren’t I to like all things produced on this lovely planet of ours? I’ve eat SILK WORMS and SCORPION for God’s sake. I mean, ME, who eats ALL things, I don’t like a green herb? It’s absurd.

Step in Sierra.

SS sent me this article from the New York Times.

It turns out, I’m not alone in my hatred. And that it might be my brain. And not just me. Which is comforting. The article explains there are others out in the world, just like me, haters of cilantro. But apparently, to help my brain develop a new liking to cilantro, I have to deal with it. And eat it. I particularly like the last line: “If you’re looking to work on your cilantro patterns, pesto might be the place to start.”

Cilantro pesto: here I come.