Brilliant iPad Application: AllRecipe

So I know I have mentioned my AllRecipe app on my iPad.  It’s a keeper and officially my favorite app.  It will inspire you, bring you new ideas, or will provide you a recipe if you ever need one in a pinch.   Unfortunately, another descriptor for it is TIME SUCK.

I was recently in Boston at the riveting B2B Marketing Forum when I discovered the app.  It was actually the very weekend I started this blog.

Of late, I’ve become acquainted with the  public transit system, specifically the trains, on the east coast since my parents relocated from God’s land (Boulder) to Providence earlier this year.  Seems simple enough, once you get past the disappointing fact that you’re not actually getting aboard Hogwarts Express when you hear the train’s loud horn (sigh).  Where are you platform 9 3/4?

But, let me tell you, it’s tricky.  I purchased a fancy-pants, feed-me-cocktails-and-wipe-my-ass-for-me train ticket to Providence from Boston.  While waiting in the train station, I was literally sucked into the AllRecipe app.  It was all, “Do you want inspiration, m’lady?” … “Yes, app, feed me more!”  I look up once the haze released me and realize I had missed my train.  (Insert loud explicative)

I walked up to the attendant and announced sheepishly that I had missed my train.

“Wow, yes you did.  How did you miss it?”

“None of your business, clown.  Get me to Providence.”   Actually, I didn’t say that.  I was thinking that.  I said, “I wasn’t paying attention.  Is there another train available, please?”  Gosh, the woman in my head is so rude.

He books me on the next, much lesser wipe-your-own-ass train.  I huff as I sit down and loudly shut the stupid iPad and its alluring quicksand of cooking wonders.

I get my happy ass on the next train and sit by myself with my iPad.  Watching the east coast fly by outside the window, I fall into one of my ADD-induced day dreams about my blog while flipping through AllRecipe.  I feel something, though, as a cute young boy sits down next to me.  No, he didn’t touch me or anything, not that kind of feel (sicko). It’s silence.  I feel silence.  I realize they haven’t been announcing the stops.  Hmm,  I’ve been on this train for a hot minute. And I don’t recognize anything outside the window. I wonder where the hell I am.  So, I talk to the boy next to me.

“Hey, what station did you just board at?”

“Providence.”

“Fahk.”

I highly recommend that you download the AllRecipe app.

It’s amazing.

It will help you with recipes and ideas.

It will cause you to lose three hours of perfectly good Friday time.

And it will introduce you to places like Kingston, Rhode Island, population 13, where they SERIOUSLY need to open a bar at the train station.

Blog Post No. 1

You know that face you make when you have just finished applying mascara and you feel a sneeze coming on?  The pure panic of impending disaster?  I doubt a gentleman would understand this phenomena, but imagine spending a healthy amount of time ensuring each of your lashes is reaching it’s full potential with an expensive by-product of guano, only to realize that it will soon cover your entire face post-sneeze.  It’s a real problem, believe me.  And a sure-fire way of ruining your morning.

I was wearing this expression on Friday night in my parent’s Rhode Island kitchen as soon as I realized my first blogable dinner was a flop.  It’s funny to me, really.  I was all I’m-a-great-cook-cos-I-just-started-a-foodie-blog.  Notsomuch.  I made fish tacos.  Let me correct that…  I made boring fish tacos.  Also funny, is that I chose fish tacos to make because the last time I served them, my friends made glorious love to them.  There were orgasmic groans and eye rolling… you get the picture.    

So I have two options here; either blame my friends for being alcoholics (which coincidentally could very well be the case), or point this one to the non-disputable excuse.  The altitude.  For those of you not from Colorado, you never argue with a cook who blames shitty food on the altitude.

Yep, that’ll be it.  I need to get back to my mile-high city, out of this sea-level rubbish, where the fish tacos taste good and cause spontaneous combustion.