i had a bad morning and then i ate a half batch of rumaki by myself for lunch.
It happens. Right?
First, I woke up late. So late that I had to throw on my workout clothes and sprint out the door and I still missed warm-up at the crossfit gym. Then I was super slow the workout went long. Which then cut into my shower time and I didn’t get to wash my hair. (dear boyz. no that does not only save 30 seconds. it saves, like, 20 minutes of drying and primping. duh.) No biggy, right? Go to work with slightly greasy hair. Everyone has an off day–that’s all.
Oh no. That was not all.
Because my hair was gross, I decided to rock the athleisure . . . as if that would indicate that I was coming from or headed to the gym like an awesomely fit tuff girl that smelled like lavender body wash and was so cool that her greasy hair didn’t matter. A+ for creative planning.
But then I couldn’t find the top I wanted, because my husband did the laundry AND made his best effort at putting it away for me. Okay, then. Scrap the first outfit. I yank on my second outfit, pack the backpack, pull something-resembling-a-suitable-lunch out of the fridge annnndddd . . . can’t find my shoes. The one pair of shoes that happen to go with my second outfit choice.
Flip flops are acceptable when it’s 24 degrees outside, right? Right. Who needs toes. If I lose them to hypothermia, it’ll save me from the outrageously priced pedicures that seem to have become socially required before any event in which one’s toes might be glimpsed. Nobody invites the toe-less girl to mani/pedis. That would just be sad.
Flip flops it is! I run out the door and as I hit the bottom of the 5 flights of stairs, I realize I left my lunch sitting on the counter top. At this point, I’ve passed the point of dignity and let out a bellow of frustration that probably echoed up the stairwell and woke even our constantly-high-as-a-kite neighbor. FINE. I DON’T NEED TO EAT. I DIDN’T WANT TO EAT ANYWAY.
At this point, I am ridiculously late for work. Not that I have a start time, but I generally try to roll into the office before the 10:45 am that I was quickly headed for. I jumped in the car, turned the key, annnndddd . . . fuel low. I need gas. You know? The gas from that only gas station between me and the freeway that is surrounded by a 20 yard radius of bright orange construction cones and traffic which will guarantee a 15 minute addition to my commute.
I’m done. I quit. El fin. I marched my butt upstairs, put on my cookie monster pjs, and secluded my grumpy arse away from both husband and puppy before I could infect someone else with my mood. And then I ate an entire half batch of rumaki for lunch and felt much better.
Non-traditional, non-authentic rumaki with paleo BBQ sauce
Let’s be clear. This rumaki is non-traditional, non-authentic, and liver free. Because I don’t eat chicken liver. And because I am in love with the paleo, gluten-free BBQ sauce I made last week.
Our family grew up making an adaptation of rumaki that is liver-free and covered in BBQ sauce. Very easy, very quick, and very. very. delicious. We had these bacon wrapped water chestnuts at every pu pus night. (sounds like: poo-poos = appetizers). This rumaki is the perfect party or holiday appetizer, because it is:
- refined sugar-free
- quick & easy
If you don’t have any gluten-free or paleo guests to worry about, then feel free to use any bottle of your favorite BBQ sauce.