Pork and Mango Skewers and also Shopping Sucks.

As much as I love food and the planning and preparing of meals, I really don't like going to the grocery store.  Awful.  I shop like a hoarder because I dislike it so much.  Or maybe I just like having six bottles of barbecue sauce in my pantry.  We ran out of ketchup once and Carter was dumbfounded.  WE NEVER RUN OUT OF KETCHUP.  It was like watching Dan Jansen fall during that Olympic speed skating race he was a shoo-in to win.  (I can't believe that's the first comparison I thought of.  Yes, it was EXACTLY like that.)  Witnessing the impossible.  But I truly do get twitchy if our reserve rolls of TP number less than ten.

Part of my anti-shopping bent is for sure my attitude toward my fellow shoppers.  I don't like them. They bug me as follows:
1. Stopping their carts in the middle of the aisle so nobody can pass on either side.
2. Stopping to slowly compare nutritional labels directly in front of the yogurt/cheese/cereal I want.
3. Other people's kids.*
4. Check writers.  At the very least use a debit card.  You obviously have a bank account.
5. Asking me about the items in my cart.  Just pony up the two dollars for the same tortillas and give it a whirl.
6. Kids over, say, 5 years old who are allowed to ride in carts.  Because these are usually the kids who would benefit from not riding in carts.

Wow, only six?  I'm much less of a B than I'd thought.  Nice.

*Now, my boys are not, by any stretch of imagination, particularly well-behaved.  There was an 'incident' at Target C. 2008 when my strategy of buying them a bag of popcorn at the snack bar to keep them busy while I shopped turned horribly wrong and they began sticking the kernels up each other's noses and shooting it out of their nostrils while shrieking with laughter.  Not my parenting high point, but I pretended I was their nanny and announced very loudly that their 'mother' was going to be disappointed when I told her how poorly they were behaving.  So there was that.  But what really gets me are the parents who pretend their child's behavior isn't a cause for concern.  I recently witnessed a woman whose child was chucking - not simply tossing - items out of their cart and the woman did the Parenting Magazine bit and was like, "Nigel (oh for Christ's sake NIGEL), we don't throw things out of Mommy's basket.  Would you like an organic grape?"  You know the tone she used.  You know it already.  Placating and dulcet.  KILLS ME.

So because I would rather poke my eyes out than go to the grocery store I've become pretty good at using what we've got on hand to make a meal.  Last week Carter called on Wednesday with news that his Thursday meeting in California was cancelled and that he'd be home for dinner.  Super.  Except there was no dinner.  And there was no way I was going to the store.  I should add that in no way does he expect a home-cooked dinner, but I kind of feel like it's the least I can do.  I have come to despise the whole airport "process" and he does it every week.  So I make him dinner.  I had a pork tenderloin in the freezer that I pulled out to thaw.  Then I checked out the contents of the fridge.  I had a mango and some zucchini that needed to be used.  Ding ding ding.

Pork and Mango Skewers
Cube the pork in about 1 inch pieces.  Do the same to the mango.  Place on skewers.  I love the word skewer.

Pour some sweet chili sauce over the skewers, cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate.

Sweet Chili Sauce. 

Ready to grill.

Grilled. Fini.  

So I served these over rice and they were, excuse the brag, fantastic.  Will make these again.  Will make these for guests.  

For the vegetable, I served zucchini super thinly sliced and tossed with a little olive oil, lemon juice, salt and pepper and thyme leaves.  I used my mandoline to slice the zucchini, but as I'm typing this I'm thinking a vegetable peeler doing long thin slices of zucchini would maybe be better.  But as it was:

I love zucchini but overcooked zucchini?  Holy yuck.  That's the thing: it goes from great and firm to overcooked and mushy awfulness in an instant.  That's why I love serving it raw, as above.  

So it was a really good meal, with just using what we had on hand and without going to the grocery store and, God forbid, using the self-checkout line.  Self check-outs. Christ.  Signs should be posted on those things that read: "We've thrown the concept of customer service out the window.  Welcome."  I've given up on them completely after my last attempt left me talking back to the thing like a crazy woman. "I DID place my item on the belt, you a-hole."  Anyway, it takes me longer to find and scan those dumb barcodes and key in my produce numbers than it does to wait in the longest line.  So I choose the line with the real person.  And the National Enquirer.  The End.