Did you know I used to write book reviews for money? Well, not money exactly, more like soup, and oranges. For a couple of years in the Hellmouth I wrote a cookbook review column in the local co-op newsletter, for which I received a discount on co-op groceries and the odd book or two. I was also a soccer referee and a grad student, simultaneously. Sleep was not an option.

Anyway, I was eventually fired from my columnist position for two reasons. One, I couldn't get a review in under deadline if my knees depended on it. And two, I caused this huge scandal involving brownies.

Being kind of a critical person by nature, I would tend to be very hard on these earnest works of tofu-lovin' treehuggery which, while heartfelt, were also very poorly written and apparently produced in the Test Kitchen of the Damned. All of which I wrote faithfully (if snarkily) each month, along with a recipe from each book. And then one month the editor snapped and assigned me to go over to that co-op and not leave until I'd found a cookbook I liked and could write positive things about. So I did.

I chose The Alice B Toklas Cookbook and included the infamous brownie recipe, which I reproduced faithfully with a note, stating that one could, if one desired, spice it up a bit. So to speak. Which is when the nut loaf hit the fan. You would have thought I'd told people to eat their welfare babies the way the editor was carrying on, and a couple readers wrote in that I was a miscreant and an addict and they were shocked, just shocked at my advocating and abetting. Of course, it was (and is, for all I know) a well-known fact that if you're in the Hellmouth, and you're looking for a certain special spice, you should head on over to the co-op. Hang out with the guys who package the bulk cheese. Three of whom were on my soccer team.

Good times, good times.

I also used to write book reviews for nothing, which is to say that I, along with The Deadly Meringue and my mother (!), published a little gothic book review webzine called, imaginatively, GothBooks. We had no staff writers. We had no advertisers. It was 1997, so I was borrowing space on my boyfriend's web server, which was located in his dining room. Anyway, it was all going swimmingly until I accidentally gave, to my mother, to review, a book on speculative horror fiction that involved coprophagy. No, I'm not going to link to a definition. You're going to have to go look it up.

And the worst part was that my mom was so calm about the whole thing, at least to me anyway. She was just like, "That story was a little disturbing, I thought." And here am I, horrified at not having vetted the book beforehand and she's just focused on writing the review.

Anyway.

This whole entry was supposed to be about what I cooked for dinner tonight and how well it worked out even when my oldest and most faithful cookbook failed me, but sometimes, life just doesn't work out like that.

A month or so back, I saw a listing for an open reviewer position on someone else's webzine, and thought I'd apply, mainly because it involves reviewing mystery fiction, rather than cookbooks or other things. Of course, I haven't written a book review in 4 years, but common sense is overrated.

I sat down tonight (with my scrumptious dinner, the one you are in danger of never ever reading about) and started to write both my application and a sample review, and ground to a complete halt. It's like all of a sudden I forgot how to speak English, or which end of a rabbit has teeth, or some other fundamental skill. So strange. And because this is the internet, rather than an envelope full of yellowed paper addressed only to you, the editor of this not-my webzine will probably come over to this site as part of checking out my application, and then forevermore my name will call to her mind my horrible book-related daughter behavior.

I should send her a nut loaf along with my application, just so she has something to throw.

So um, yeah. Dinner!

GothBeets

Just because.

Do you know how to roast beets? I didn't until two hours ago. Wash 'em, wrap 'em in foil and pop 'em in a 350-degree oven for an hour. The skins will slip off while you hold them under running water. So tasty. I made mine with homemade stuffing and veggie mix, which is what happens when things are about to go off in the fridge.

Veggie mix: 1 can of crushed tomatoes, one can of white potatoes, two handfuls of snap peas, half a punnet of mushrooms. Chop. Mix in a covered saucepan. Turn the heat on under this roughly five minutes before you pull the beets out. You just need the snap peas to be not quite so snappy.

Stuffing: Take the stale bread and rip it into small chunks. Name those chunks after your exes. Kidding. Don't do that. Splash some milk over the bread to soften it up. Mix with chopped onion, golden raisins, hazelnuts (or whatever), garlic powder, thyme, basil and salt. Melt a stick of butter. Don't look at me like that. Melt it! Pour over the bread mix and stir. Poke into a bread tin, cover with foil, put them in the oven next to the beets. Cook for an hour.