Your Pantry is a Superhero

Ingredients to Sustain Life on $2-10 (assuming your pantry is a superhero)
Cookies:
for your breakfast, snack, or health-ified sweet tooth
(I'm not kidding; these are actual edible things I made)

• whole lotta quick oats
• plain yogurt
• chocolate chips
• a tad of cocao powder
• spoonfuls of PB2 (original and/or choc. flavor)
• smidgen brown sugar
• splash almond milk

  

  This article? Really exists.

• some partially melted "butter," or what have you

Burgers:
for an actual meal

• lots of lentils
• yeah, quick oats
• so much quinoa
• can-a black beans
• peppers, whatever-- go apeshit with your leftover produce
• 1 egg
• let's say 2 TBS buckwheat flour
• spices, and lots of 'em
• some olive oil

Pancakes:
for an "F U" to those dumb "super skinny" "carb free" "pancakes" floating around Pinterest; because 2 eggs and a banana makes a CREPE, idiots

• 1 banana
• 1 egg
• get dat plain yogurt
• yeah, oats
• more *PB2
• protein powder-- amount dependent on how bad the protein powder tastes in relation to how many pounds you can deadlift
• a pinch of, like, whatever flour
• cinnamon!
• the dregs of your sugar-free maple syrup
• smidge of "butter," for cooking pancakes the right way
  
  *For any unfortunate misfits who still don't know what PB2 is:

  

  Click: "What's the Deal with Powdered Peanut Butter?"

   It is amazing.   Stop judging. 
  
  

Sides:

• brown rice!
• mixed with quinoa!
• because quinoa on its own is confusing, texturally and otherwise!
• kale
• plain yogurt (calcium is important, man; it's worth the cost of whatever the cheapest off-brand family size is at your local, savings-oriented grocery store)
• corn tortillas --> tortilla chips
• popcorn kernels (ain't none of that microwaveable sh*%-- I'm talkin' 99-cents of GOYA)

Instructions

Cookies: Put all of these things together in a bowl, in various experimental amounts, and stir/continue to add until the consistency reaches dough-ish enough. Plop onto a greased cookie sheet, in whatever haphazard ball-shaped size you want. Bake at probably 300-350 degrees F for, like, I don't know, 20 minutes.

They end up looking like this:

(No, they don't.)

Burgers: Cook, eh, a cup of lentils and a cup or so of quinoa. While they're doin' their thing, realize what you're doing: you're cooking lentils and quinoa for the purpose of making a burger. Do you get that? Do you see where I'm going with this? Good. Now, the lentils and ancient grain are probably done by now. Mix them together in a big bowl with the rest of the ingredients. Make sure your veggies are finely cut, because who likes inedible chunks. Coat your pan with cooking spray and some olive oil, then go to town skilleting these burger freaks.

Here's the final result:

(For sure, in your dreams)

Pancakes: Whip up all of the ingredients, except for the the maple syrup, in a food processor/blender/Bullet/Ninja. Coat a pan and cook like pancakes. Mix together plain yogurt and whatever's at the bottom of your maple syrup bottle for a delicious and less overwhelmingly sweet topping. You'll get caught with a supreme load of sweetness anyway, so let's at least try to take it down a notch?

Because the following is a photo on my blog, they have to look like this:

(Alright, seriously? I didn't even mention chocolate.)

What do you do when you're in between jobs-- and by "in between jobs" I mean you got another restaurant hosting job to hold you over until you start your well-paid nanny job in September because you thought you weren't making enough money at your old restaurant, but due to that whole training period with training wages thing you totally forgot about, plus those days you missed because you were sick, plus that whole week you missed because of the workshop of a new musical you did, you're really making way less money there-- and all of your tutoring clients are summering in the Hamptons; and Backstage and Wix both spring those damn yearly subscription fees on you out of nowhere? When you reach that sad, pathetic No Man's Land where your bank account will be well overdrawn if your landlord feels like cashing your rent check, which could happen any day now? When you have had 3 unpaid charges from your friends that have been sitting in Venmo for over a week, definitely making you "that guy?"

You raid your pantry.

In the past week, I have bought: 1 large container of plain yogurt, 2 corner grocery bell peppers, 1 bunch of kale, and the weak splurges of 2 boxes of on-sale cereal + a carton of almond milk and, heaven help me, a f*#$ing back of discount pretzel thins. That may seem like a fair amount in a week, so let me fill you in: I started with next to nothing--

Except the pantry.

The hot August air matched the stuffiness I felt in my own life: I was stuck. Trapped in a classic case of lower middle class New York City actor with the inability to spend a single dollar due to an overdrawn bank account threat. Classic. Money was as tight as a pair of cheap jeggings in July... Hey, when you're in a situation like mine, you can only think in metaphors. "Boy, this is a doozy, and a hungry one," I thought to myself, as I peered into the cavernous shadows of my nearly empty fridge. But then, I saw her--  fully stocked, bountiful, with goods for days. She called herself a pantry, and she gave me an idea. It was the kind of clear, tangible idea that clung to you like something real... a hearty plan of non-perishable goods. "What kind of poor kiddo does this kitchen take me for," I gloated. "I know my way around a pantry." That's right; I'd beat the system. Hell, I'd beat the whole damn world. And my pantry? No dame her size had beans like hers, flour for hours. She had everything I needed... or so I thought.

(I had to buy yogurt and kale. That was really it.)

Yes, for the last week I've been, I guess you could say, living in the shadows. Baking away a storm in my tiny kitchen to sustain my tiny body. I eat bountiful and nutritious staff dinners at work and throw healthy-ice-cream-making parties with friends to A. combine my pantry with their fridge&freezer and B. avoid going out and spending money. (C. when would I not throw an ice-cream-making party) When you lay low, and are honest with your friends about your financial situation, you can survive on very little. But need I say again that you must have one thing: various grains, flours, beans, lentils, baking ingredients, spices, popcorn, powdered peanut butter, chocolate chips, soup, Nutella, oats, oatmeal... one thing. A capital-P Pantry. Tell me your Pantry isn't a superhero and see what happens. Try me.*


*Follow Up: If you argue that your Pantry cannot defend you against the inevitable trust-fund-like amount of money it costs you to start dating someone, you will win. 

Lebowitz All New to Me: Words to Chew On

(This recipe is not officially co-authored by Fran Lebowitz, though all of the ingredients contain her quotes. So you decide how you want to use the word "official.")

Ingredients, or Words to Live By

• "When you leave New York, you are astonished at how clean the rest of the world is. Clean is not enough."

  

  Outside of New York, your tequila is accompanied by sombreros and golf cart rides.

  

  You don't have to pay for a blow-dry because you have a sunroof. 



And you can capture your manly father with a shopping bag at a winery.
But it's not New York.

• "If you're going to America, bring your own food."

  

  Or else you'll eat an entire pizza.

Or buy something called a Dingleberry, which is what we call things that stick to my dog's butt.



Or order cheese fries that are just a slice of cheese, on fries.



Or... Nah, this is always a good idea.

• "Polite conversation is rarely either."
  

  

  (Some UCB improv "artvice.")
  I've spent $2,050 on improv and sketch classes.
  

  

  So far.

• "Having been unpopular in high school is not just cause for book publications."

  

  But look at me now. Stunner.

  

  Screw it: My mom is cooler than me.
  (That is her cup with the sidecar of Grand Marnier.)

  

  I need coffee and a blanket to keep up with her on an island in Lake Erie. 

• "Life is something to do when you can't get to sleep."

  

  6am Flight Club. 4:00am wakeup, 2 flights, 7 hours, 3 hour time change. My free standby-flying privileges ensures I never miss a sunrise. 

  

  Look at us, trying to be ironic on our kitschy trip to "Live! with Kelly and Michael"-- then being totally called out for it by this genius kid. I bet he gets Fran Lebowitz. 

• "There's no such thing as advice to the lovelorn. If they took advice, they wouldn't be lovelorn."
  "Romantic love is mental illness. But it's a pleasurable one. It's a drug. It distorts reality, and that's the point of it. It would be impossible to fall in love with someone that you really saw."
  
  
  
  ... Oh. I don't. I don't have a picture for these... because, uh, sure-- yeah: I do see everyone, really see everyone, undistorted. You might say I'm lucky. Very... lucky.
  
  
  So here are some pictures of my birthday:
  
  
  
• "Your life story would not make a good book. Do not even try."
  

  

  Oh, really, Fran?
  
  

• "... Then I wanted to be a writer, because, I suppose, it seemed the closest thing to being God."

Instructions

Why Fran Lebowitz? I'm a writer and a New Yorker-- what more reason do I need?

Hyokay, let's pedal back: a New Yorker? A writer? Hold on to your hats, kids, 'cause it's been a few months and that's just enough time for me to buy my first blazer:

This April, I had my first class of Sketch Writing 101 at UCB. It was 9am on a Thursday. Not only did my narcoleptic brain stay awake, but also this cheesy phrase kept knocking through my brain: "it feels so good to be back in a writers' room." (My quote, not Fran Lebowitz's.) 

I got oddly enlightened by comedy podcasts (Pete Holmes's "You Made It Weird" + any podcast that had an interview with Brent Morin from "Undateable"), from which I learned that working in comedy is an actual, attainable job-- also, that, especially in comedy, I don't have to live along the binary lines of actor v. writer. Then, through small-world serendipity, I ended up with an interview for an admin assistant position for two major TV comedy writers. I didn't get the job, but damn did it feel amazing. For the first time ever, my stalwart watching of exclusively half-hour TV comedies (if someone tells me to watch "Breaking Bad" again, I swear) wasn't a negative trait-- nay, it was a STRONG SUIT! I so wanted this perfect, dream job that came at the exact moment that I realized I wanted it-- but that would've been too easy, right?

It's all new to me. I had to look up what to bring to a real job interview. I Pinterest-ed what to wear, took a look at my child apparel closet, and headed promptly to H&M. I've never had an interview that didn't hire me on the spot to start at $15/hr or lower with no benefits!

It's all new, and I don't know. I really don't know. In the past month, I got my hair chopped to bits by a salon in Ohio then flew to Seattle and got it fixed in a small beach town. My dad voluntarily went on a winery tour. I got my first ever air conditioning unit. And, after roughly 2 years, my wallet-- with everything inside of it-- was returned to me in New York City.

Yo, real talk. I never believed in things coming full circle before; I didn't feel that ends could tie up because life is so messy. But almost two years ago, I boarded a subway train to board an East Harlem bus to board a Metro North train to meet a guy that I'd met once before in person. Oh, yeah, for sure it was super weird and hella ballsy. Thus, you can only imagine my thought when I went to buy my Metro North ticket and realized my wallet was missing and most likely on the M100 in East Harlem: "this is a bad sign." (Again, me, not Fran.) Thankfully, an accompanying friend bought my ticket and forced me to board the train. 

I lost my drivers license, all of my bank cards, medical cards, and Social Security Card. (Not to mention loads of useful gift cards and a shockingly irreplaceable CVS rewards card.) I went to the police, then called the MTA every other day for a month. I paid for identity theft protection. My parents and I worried constantly about a stolen SSN. And for every little thing that went wrong in my romantic relationship, the one I "lost my wallet for," I blamed my wallet; I told myself that I should've seen it coming. 

After that relationship ended, I remember thinking of all relationships as hexagons or triangles-- no full circles. Even long after I started dating again, even though I knew I was over that time in my life, something still didn't seem... finished. Then, a month ago, my mom called me to say the MTA had sent a notice card to her house in Ohio. I brought the card to the Lost Items Unit, and when the man asked what I lost, I said "I don't know." I sat. I waited, for 15 long minutes. And when the man brought out a tiny coin purse with my drivers license in the front, I was dead speechless. All I could think of were mighty swear words, so I kept quiet until I blurted out "This is bananas!" I forced him to tell me all he knew, but all he knew was that it was found on the M100.

Like I said, I really don't know, but here's what's new to me:

1. "This is bananas!" has become an uncontrollable catchphrase of mine and I hate it.
2. Either some kind, honest soul found my wallet a long time ago but kept forgetting to turn it in until their guilt almost crushed them, or the MTA cleans their busses every 2 years. 
3. Trying to create a perfect narrative for your life is stupid. It can be momentarily satisfying, but not everything happens for a reason. (Also taught to me in the Pete Holmes podcast!) If I had listened to the "sign" that my wallet was stolen right before I boarded the Metro North that day, I'd have missed out on so many important crazy adventures and friends that I now value.
4. Life can come full circle. Over 2 years, I'd lost my identity-- literally. It's been a wild and crazy ride, and, truth be told, a lot of it has not been good. When I got back to my apartment and opened that wallet up, I had an out-of-body experience: it was like all of the "me" that I'd let slip away over the past 2 years was trying to flood back into me-- only I didn't want it to. It couldn't, because I'm a completely different person now than I was when I lost that stupidly small coin purse-- I didn't even recognize it! I'd been waiting for closure or, dare I say, a positive "sign" for a while, feeling like everything was happening around me but I was riddled with problems or feelings that made me stuck. The return of my wallet lifted a weird weight-- an emotionally loaded weight-- off of my shoulders. In the end, something so serious was so... funny. I'd been afraid of something that was never really a threat-- something that was sitting, waiting, under a seat in the M100 for 2 years. There was no bad sign. There was only me. And, now, I have a little bit of that old me back. Full circle.

Anyone that has now begun singing Notorious B.I.G.'s "Want That Old Thing Back" truly gets me and we have to talk; please email me.

"There is no such thing as inner peace. There is only nervousness or death. Any attempt to prove otherwise constitutes unacceptable behavior." (Definitely Fran Lebowitz) 

Frannie and I are writers and New Yorkers. And I'm sure if she ever lost her wallet on a bus in NYC and got it returned, she wouldn't tell a soul. So, that's really where our similarities end. Except I'd like to think that she also likes Notorious B.I.G.'s "Want That Old Thing Back" ... I'll be waiting. 

100% Sugar: Iowa

Ingredients

• Guilting yourself into self-sacrifice (aka covering someone's 8am shift)
• Staying up until 2am to write a sketch you end up deleting, which is proper because it was about a shady "drug" deal by a man selling Molly-- the American Girl Doll.
• A 211-page document on the Redesigned SAT, ready to be edited, with your name on it
• A reservation for 52 people at 8:30pm at your restaurant during a night in which you're closing-- the night before your 7am flight
• $11 spent in an airport Starbucks... on one person... which is not that shocking, now that you think about it
• This picture in a text message at 6am to show how excited you are at 6am to be in Economy Plus:

  

  Excited

• 2 identical 5-hour car rides in Midwestern corn in 2 days
• 3 states in one day
• Chocolate-induced acid attacks because there are gas stations that sell chocolate and you make poor decisions
• Sleeping on a love seat (and not in a metaphorical way)
• 8 hours in O'Hare airport
• Drinking coffee

All this for... IOWA. 

Instructions

All this for... Iowa. 

Cedar Falls, Iowa. The home of UNI, University of Northern Iowa. Setting for Yelp's most entertaining middle-aged reviewer, Rob C., whose criticisms of everything Cedar Falls garnered a 45-minute dramatic reading of every restaurant in "CF." In case you didn't know, "vampires with bad taste" is a "very Cedar Falls look." (Gripping, Soulful Review of the 'Jokers' Comedy Club by Rob C, Yelp.com)

After Melanie, my artistic soul partner, and I looked up how much hotels (don't) cost and how much Rob C. hates every single place in Cedar Falls, Iowa, we proclaimed to each other, "why the F*#$ are we going to Iowa?!" Up until we actually arrived-- nay, up until we actually began what we came there to do, the day after we arrived-- we repeated the phrase: "F*#$ing Iowa." 

So, why Iowa? The University of Northern Iowa is, randomly, a phenomenal school to study Autism in arts education. Naturally, they hosted the first-ever Autism and Arts Education Symposium, and it was BOSS. I can't begin to explain how floored we were. Melanie and I represented our non-profit theatre company, Bluelaces, and were selected to lead a workshop-- just two 23-year-olds leading a workshop on devising highly interactive and multisensory theatre for individuals on the Autism Spectrum. BAH!! (We killed it, though.) (Even though the majority of people there asked how old we were.)

 

Once we got into the swing of presentations, networking, and kick-ass shows either featuring kids on the Spectrum (like a once non-verbal teen singing a live rock-band version of "Since You Been Gone", no less) or featuring talented college performers trained to perform for audiences with developmental disabilities, we forgot we were in Iowa. Not kidding. Not even kidding. Not even remotely kidding. I only remembered once we left campus and tried ordering "you know, actual restaurant food but quick to-go" at a sports bar & grill (like the expectant and impatient New Yorkers we are) and were met with the bleach-blondiest, sports-lovingest, craft-beer-drinkiest white, buff, semi-mullet-y loud population of diners. And when we left and bought humungous bags of colorful flavored sugary popcorn that ruined our stomachs in the best possible way for the drive home. Ah, the Ohioan in me felt at home.

But oh, yes: That drive from Iowa was my second 5-hour drive in 2 days. It led me back to my second out of 3 states I'd been in over those 2 days. All after pulling a few Narcoleptic All Nighters (aka, trying to stay awake as late as possible to finish something due the next day, but truly just falling asleep invariably for hours until around 2:30am) and working a few closers that week. The best way to describe how I physically felt is to imagine how you'd feel if, say, for example, you woke up at 4:30am, flew in an airplane, drank an acidic drink you're not supposed to consume like maybe coffee, drove 5 hours, and then anxiously ingested a few hotel-cup-sized cups of gas-station-bought Reeses, M&Ms, and Swedish Fish to sugar-high your way through finishing your workshop presentation. Or... yeah... Yeah, no, that's actually what I did do. So, yeah, imagining that would be exactly how I felt.

Midwest sugar, man.

[I feel really bad because recently I met someone from Iowa (don't worry, this might happen only about 3 times in your life, total) and made that "eeeeh, I'm so sorry" stink face followed by a stereotypical review of Cedar Falls that would have made Rob C. proud. But this Iowan did not seem to appreciate it. As he shouldn't.)

All of this. For F*#$ing Iowa. Wait-- that's not true. All of this... for f*#$ing Autism. I wouldn't have rearranged my week and worked so much, so stressfully, and traveled to 3 states in 2 days to simply gain a chocolatey acid stomach. I did it for Bluelaces, and for coming together with others who support the advancement of arts education in the Autism community. I even added UNI (Univ. of Northern Iowa) on Twitter on our way home, and I think that's the first time I actually learned how to use Twitter. We love Rob C., but not enough to ever visit his hated town of Cedar Falls without a bigger reason: Autism advocacy will always be that bigger reason. No matter how many states with rolling hills we have to go to! Or college love seats we crash on  in Chicago after driving through those hills! Or how many hours I wait in the O'Hare airport back to NYC after not really sleeping on that lumpy college love seat! We do it for the kids, we do it for the adults, we do it for the families, and we love it.

Wait-- that's not true, either. It's the popcorn:

It's always the popcorn.