Apparently, I like to torture myself.
Sometimes it’s in small ways, like keeping my size zero jeans from my modeling days that I will never fit into again. Ever. Ever.
Sometimes it’s by spending hours looking at photos, like these, that are so good I know I will never be able to grace the world with images that perfect.
Lately, because I’m about knee-deep in the cookbook I’m writing, the stress of my rapidly approaching deadline has somehow convinced me that I need to read Amazon cookbook reviews. The bad ones. Always the bad one.
And it terrifies me. Although, it should makes me feel better. If people can find ridiculous faults with gorgeous cookbooks, I have no chance of pleasing everyone, and that will put me in good company. The company of every other person who has ever written a book of any kind.
Although I did learn something: People Suck.
-One lady left a nasty 1-star review on a cookbook she didn’t own and had never even seen in real life because she hated the POSITIVE reviews. What the hell?
-Several people left angry 1-star reviews because the cookbook in question had too many “hard” recipes.
-One lady left an irate review about a cookbook called “Savory Pies” because it wasn’t a dessert cookbook. SAVORY!!
-One guy left a 1-star review of a cookbook because he didn’t think the color of the cover went well with his kitchen.
-One lady left a bad review because the author said, “too many common sense things” Apparently the absurd and irrational cookbook wasn’t available for Kindle.
So, I have no chance. I can’t please everyone, that just needs to be a fact that is accepted. Like how it rains in Los Angeles from time to time, or that you will have to replace the tires on your car at some point.
I wish I was OK with this idea that someone will inevitably pay money for my book and hate it, but it happens to keep me up at night.
I worry that someone will try to make the Stout Chocolate Cake with Raspberry Porter Ganache and confuse weight ounces with fluid ounces and blame me when her husbands birthday cake doesn’t work. (BTW, whomever decided that two completely separate units of measurement, that have nothing to do with each other, should have the same name, is an A-Hole.)
I even worry that someone who can’t drink alcohol will leave me a nasty review about my Cooking with Beer book about how he can’t make any of the recipe, due to the fact that they ALL contain beer.
Instead of looking away from the train wreck of the ignorant spewing hatred at other people’s hard work, I stress ate pasta.
It was great, and even my Avocado averse husband loved it.
- 4 servings of pasta of choice
- 2 large avocados
- ½ cup cream
- ½ cup parmesan plus ¼ cup
- ½ cup + ¼ cup whole milk
- ½ tsp black pepper
- ½ tsp salt
- ½ lb shrimp, raw, deveined and peeled
- ½ tsp black pepper
- 1 tsp chili powder
- ¼ tsp smoked paprika
- ½ tsp garlic powder
- ½ tsp onion powder
- ¼ t salt
- pinch cayenne (plus additional as desired)
- 2 tbs olive oil
- 1 cup arugula
- Cook pasta in lightly salted boiling water until almost cooked through (just before al dente).
- In a food processor add the flesh of the avocados, cream, ½ cup parmesan, ½ cup whole milk and process until smooth. Transfer to a pot over medium high heat. Simmer until warmed, about 5 minutes. Add the salt and pepper, plus additional to taste. Add the noodles into the sauce, simmering until noodles have finished cooking, about 3 additional minutes (add remaining 1/4 cup milk if sauce becomes overly dry and thick).
- In a bowl stir together the black pepper, chili powder, smoked paprika, garlic powder, onion powder salt and cayenne. Add additional cayenne for a higher level of heat. Add peeled shrimp and toss until shrimp are well coated.
- Heat olive oil until hot but not smoking in a pan over medium high heat. Add the shrimp, stirring occasionally, until cooked through, about 6 minutes.
- Plate pasta, sprinkle with remaining Parmesan cheese, top with arugula and then shrimp. Serve immediately.