Confessions Of A Splenda Stealer

I’ll admit it–I am ADDICTED to food porn. I check about 20 of my favorite food blogs every time I get a hold of a computer. At my desk. At home. Under the covers late at night. It’s a sickness. Ooooh matcha white chocolate cookies. MMMMM peanut butter banana bread. Yummm pesto. Some people have a “goodies” drawer. I have my bookmarks bar that I open when I have a craving.

Not only do I have an obsession with food, but I also aspire to be a foodie/gourmet chef. This of course is not too convenient with my lack of funds. Two Sundays ago, I had my frustrations realized when my parents spent the day in Hoboken as the first warm Sunday in 2008. As we were walking down the main street after lunch at Elysian Cafe, a French bistro inspired place (I had a Croque Madama…gruyere cheese, Canadian bacon, and a fried egg), my mom asked me about every restaurant we passed. And there are a lot of them.

“What about this place?”–as she points to an Italian restaurant I’ve been dying to try.

“Nope.”

“Ooooh Ali Baba’s Indian food–that looks soo good! How’s the food there?”

“Wouldn’t know, Mom.”

“Oh what a cute little outside setting! What about that cafe?”

“Mom! I have only been to a restaurant here if it sells pizza or bagels. Or if I’ve had a date, and it’s been a little dry in that area as well. Drop it.”

We touched upon two sensitive subjects. But as for the first–my foodie desires are too well developed for my wallet. So for now, I have tastespotting.com to help me pretend that the scoops of peanut butter I shove into my mouth are really bites of French brioche toast or pink macarons.

But this weekend, it was the perfect excuse to be a food blogger for the afternoon. Lookie what I made for my friend Ms. Ball O’ Sunshine’s 25 birthday:

Aren’t they pretty?? So girly–I love it. After countless mornings of passing the cake display at the deli we got our morning coffees, where she would scratch at the glass over the coconut cake (I would lick the glass over the carrot cake), I promised her that I would make her coconut cupcakes for her birthday.

The only thing is, coconut cupcakes are quite labor intensive, and by intensive, I mean, you need a lot of materials that just aren’t to be found in my kitchen. My spice rack/baking ingredients consist of garlic powder, chili pepper flakes, and an empty bottle of vanilla extract, and all the recipes for coconut cupcakes were from scratch. This was going to be interesting.

Duncan Hines supposedly makes a coconut cake mix, but it is rumored to be hard to find. A&P sure didn’t have it. I had to improvise. A week short of my paycheck, cupcakes from scratch weren’t going to happen. I ended up using a vanilla cake and icing but threw in a lot of shredded coconut. I almost bought coconut extract, but for a tiny bottle priced at $5.00, even Ms. Ball O’Sunshine reassured me, as a fellow Splenda stealer, “Screw that!” She gets it.

All in all, the cupcakes were a hit. I really love making food and preparing for dinner parties and such. I can’t wait to have a decent working kitchen. Until then, this is where I prepare my food:

on our dining table/mail table/bill organizer. Who says you need a fancy island in your kitchen like Martha Stewart to make good lookin’ food?? A little crowded, but it works. As long as my cell phone doesn’t land in the batter, I’m good to go. I’m learning to improvise for what I don’t have:

one muffin tin: I bought foil liners that stand up on their own to finish off the rest of the batter

no oven timer: cell phone alarm

two cup measurements with the numbers faded off: I crossed my fingers hoping what I thought was a 1/3 of a cup was

and perhaps my greatest improvisation of the day–no tupperware or large plates in which to transport the cupcakes: a boot box

After my cupcakes cooled, and I iced them, I suddenly realized I had no way of bringing these guys out of my apartment. I had thought about this earlier in the week, yet whenever I get to a grocery store, I remind myself–only buy the bare necessities. I always seem to talk myself out of buying luxury items, which in this case would have been a foil pan or tupperware or even paper plates to carry my cupcakes, but I guess I like a challenge?

I start walking around my apartment looking for something big enough to carry my treats. Ceramic dish? Not big enough. Two dinner plates? Not big enough either. Luckily, I found the box to one of my boots that I had shoved under the futon because I was too lazy to throw it out. My laziness paid off.

Cupcakes….I can see you….

Perfect! No one would have known that it was really a boot box except for that “size 9” sticker, which I had forgotten to peel off. But the pretty cupcake display distracted away from that evidence, plus after a few glasses/bottles of wine, no one really seemed to care.

After a late night celebrating my friend’s 25th brithday last night (drinks on a rooftop!) I awoke slightly fuzzy with my jar of peanut butter next to my head which can only mean one thing–someone had a few too many cocktails for her own good.

As a Splenda stealer, the first thought that popped into my head was–great–way to waste pb that could have been used for a sandwich today–gotta think of rising grocery prices!–and then the next was–must go to gym later.

But it got me thinking about all the little annoying thoughts about my financial situation that fly in and out of my head all day. This morning for example, when I’m a bit “fuzzy,” my body craves for flavored beverages. I don’t do water. Water makes me nauseous.

After I bolt out of Port Authority to make my daily trek across 40th street, the little voices start going off in my head:

you need diet coke asap
you need coffee asap
where should you go for the coffee? the cheapest or better tasting?
you still have some coffee in the office, maybe you should just save the dollar fifty, or maybe that cinnamon coffee at Cafe Charlie’s would be perfect for right now
maybe buy vitamin water? do you want the calories? nah if you’re going
to spent $$ get coffee, maybe get both, no gotta save save save

I end up getting that cinnamon coffee which is sooooo good. I cringe at spending $1.50 for coffee, but prices in Midtown aren’t cheap! When I started my job a year ago, Cafe Metro charged $1.30 for a medium. Then three months in it went to $1.60. The other day I went in and now it’s $1.72!! Really?? Old Bridge Deli across the street is $1.50, used to be $1. And then the Dunkin’ Donuts next door is astronomical for a cup.

This little rant plays like clockwork every time I step off of the bus to go to work. Everyday.

The worst part of it all was that Cafe Charlie didn’t even have Splenda!! I had to take extra Sweet and Low. Ick ick ick. I stole six.

And the lady put a “Paid Thank You” sticker on my cup as an extra reminder of where my money goes.

This is another reason why I don’t like to keep cash on me. It goes too fast.

What did you dream of owning when you were a kid? Perhaps a pony?? A pool in the backyard?

These days I find myself dreaming about the oddest things, like a 401k, stock options, and worst of all–to have access to a conference room.

Sometimes I am under the impression that the publishing company I work for is a facade for a money laundering operation. I have no proof of this whatsoever, but the following strikes me as either strange or just plain cheap:

–my company does not provide us a 401K or stock options or any perks or plans whatsoever

–no coffee, tea, Splenda (where it all started) cups, forks, napkins….nothin’ but a water cooler

–no direct lines or personal voicemail

–when my staff asked to update the website that looks like its from the dawn of the web, they told us it was just too much of a “to-do”

and a lack of plenty of other crap that writers and editors should just be able to have. (Is it really that expensive to stock a couple packets of hot chocolate to keep us sane?? You gotta feed the monkeys chained to the typewriters!)

And–no conference room, which seems like a really odd thing to wish for, but as someone who pads her income with a few freelance gigs, it’s crucial.

Though it’s relatively easy to do freelance work at my desk because it appears that I’m just hard at work with what I’m supposed to be doing, there is conflict when I have to conduct interviews during business hours. I work in a teeny, tiny suite with six other people with no nooks or crannies to hide in. So when I have to conduct an interview where I have to ask questions like, “So was there a specific moment in your life when you knew you wanted to dedicate your life to fight social injustice?” it sort of stands out from the normal “And what exactly makes your decorative pillows so edgy?”

Needless to say, I had to find a spot for my “secret” interviews and found this:

And by “found,” I mean turned the corner down the hall. This is my second office.

People grunt at me because I get in the way of their smoke breaks. One of these days… I never thought that I would one day dream of having a conference room. But then again, I never thought I would become klepto for sucralose either.

Dating in NYC is tough. It’s even tougher when your friends point it out to you.

On gchat this morning:

L: i looked at match.com and all of them were located in NYC

im in the wrong place