Archive for March, 2011

Yen is gonna take me shopping


So I can’t commit.

I’m truly sorry, but you have subscribed to a blog called gypsy jules.

It has the word gypsy in it.

Which means that you are on a journey whether you like it or not.

And you like it.

Gypsies hate to be in one place for very long, and they move around a lot.  And they despise attention.

That is such a huge lie.

Have you seen their earrings?

The point is, I tend to be sporadic.

Man, I love to spell.

Tomorrow, I have a Vietnamese friend coming over to take me to the Asian market and then we will bring the ingredients home and she will be teaching me to make Vietnamese eggrolls and something either rice or noodle related.

When I asked her to teach me, she just stared at me like I had 3 heads,  like I should know how to cook rice.

She has never met my family.

My mom once made porcupine balls. Rice was sticking out everywhere.

And that’s not okay.

I’m desperate for a seasoned cast iron skillet, by the way.

Just thought I’d give you a heads up.

Also, I’m starting to dream about being a chef.

Not in real life, in dreams.

But, I can feel the way a knife should slice through food, and I can feel the way it should feel. In my dreams.

I’m a sleeping giant.

Just watch.

Or don’t.

Your lame choice.

Does anyone know if asian markets have coupons?


Taco Doritos

I’m so about to gross you out.

I don’t really care, because I’ve debated about telling you this for days, and I can’t help myself.

No, I’m not pregnant.

(You should rejoice.)

They brought back the original Taco Doritos.

This is something I’ve spent a million hours praying would happen.

Okay, if I did that, I’m pretty sure I should be put away.

Actually, how do you know where I am right now?

Focus, Julie.

So I saw them at the store (buy one, get one free, if you must know) and it said original taco flavor on the front.

And then my life flashed before my eyes.

I was at my Grandpa’s house, and all the other grandkids were begging me to ask my pawpaw for money to go to the candy store. That was my job. I was a brazen little thing.

And my pawpaw never once told me no.

It was also a thing.

Anyway, I got to hold the dollars.

I always bought Taco Doritos.

And then  I would eat the entire bag, and get really nauseous.

But it was all mine.

Super rare for the baby of the family.

So, when I opened this retro bag of chips, and took my first taste – again – tears welled up.

The last time I teared up with those same tears was when I had a bite of rhubarb pie.

But I’ll save that for another day.


My food memories are full of preservatives.

But also gardens.

Ever have a less than ripe gooseberry?

Then you have not lived to your full potential.

The  end.