Grilled Steak With Arugula & Rose Sangria

I post this grilled steak and arugula salad on Instagram about every other week because during the summer months we make it all the time.  Super tasty, super easy, and a super sneaky way to get the mr. to eat salad.  This is also one of my go-to entertaining recipes because it’s a crowd-pleaser.  Every time.  It’s about time I shared it with y’all because it’s perfect for your Father’s Day cookout!  We prefer ribeyes because they absorb the marinade really well but you can use whatever cut you prefer.  Last night we used strip steaks because they were on special at Whole Foods.  And because I super love you - the Rose sangria of my Instagram/FB fame.  Getcha some and toast the papas around you!

lump charcoal is the only way to go - trust

recipe adapted from MSL

Happy Father’s Day, mr!

The Food Chronicles and getting the axe

You’re Fired!

What is up with the rampant firings?  First, I went all spastic and axed the sauce.  For the record, it has been NINE days of no carbs and booze at Chez V.  I am cranky.  This is such a dreadful bore.  It is like watching  X Factor without crazy pants Paula Abdul.  Really boring. 

Oh, wait.  She just got fired.  And so did Nicole Scherzinger.  Serves ya right for that Rachel Crow business.  And so did Nate Berkus.  Talking’s not your bit.  Stick with your dynamo design team.  But what is this world coming to when Martha gets canned?  Actually I’m with Hallmark on this one.  You’ve never really connected with a live studio audience.

But getting back to me, while axing the sauce has definitely been a hitch in my giddy up, it does have its merits.  3 more pounds off the scale.  Less bloat.  And better sleep.  But if you happen upon me at DLM don’t be concerned if I am walking round in circles by the front entrance.  I am merely trying to inhale the fresh baked bread by osmosis.

In other news, I have started to run again.

Don't know source

kisses,  mrs. V

The Food Chronicles

Off the Sauce.  horror of horrors!

I’m off the food sauce and booze sauce for a bit.  There.  I’ve said it out loud.  Drat.  Triple drat.  Accountability.

For all ten of you who read this thing let me assure you that anyone who knows me, who is related to me, or pays a bit of attention to me on FB knows what a bum deal it is for me to go OFF THE SAUCE.

A place setting at Chez V

I love food. And booze, for that matter.  Not in a gluttonous drive by Mickey Ds and shove two cheeseburgers down my gob sorta way.  No way, Jose.  I am too much of a food snob for that.  And not in a Boozo the Fall Down Clown sorta way either.  Although, I have been called a clown.  And have fallen down from booze.  But just know that I have fallen down WAY more times while sober.  Mostly.

No.  This is about my insane appreciation of the procurement and preparation of foodstuffs.

Image via

Image via

I enjoy everything about it.  The getting of it, the growing of it, the buying of it, the smells, the colors, the mixing and matching.  The beautiful poetry of putting it together and savoring the outcome.  And most of all, doing all these things for people that I love.  Preferably with my own soundtrack in the background.  It is totally normal to think of your own life as a movie. 

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And then there's wine.  Oh how I enjoy a good glass of wine which we do often around these parts.  Not every day.  But many days.  And mostly just the one glass.  But all this enjoying has caught up with me and my never-been-fast metabolism.  Except a few blissful tween years.

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What does this mean for me, exactly?  Well this:  I am cutting out bread, rice and pasta for a bit.  All those pesky carbos.  And the wine.  Don’t need those extry calories right this minute.  But it feels a lot like cutting out joy if ya ask me.  So this declaration is a big hairy deal.  But my thighs need it desperately.

Innocent baking at Chez V

2 weeks.  I think I can.  I think I can.  I think I can.  And for all you cray-zay P90x’ers and Method’ers.  Hush.  I know it’s not long and not much of a sacrifice but I am a Sagittarius.  I am allergic to commitment and stick-to-it-ness…

kisses,  mrs. V