Bento, Baby

The interwebs are a dangerous place for people who love to eat but can't cook. So many pretty dishes with comments like "so easy!" and "if I can do it, anyone can!". It's wrong to get a girl's hopes up.

My kitchen disasters are fairly typical: burnt meat, raw meat, goopy gluey macaroni, many many fire alarms and the one time I'm pretty sure I gave myself salmonella. I'm sure everyone has done that at least once. Of course they have. *cough*

I've been "taught" by Bubby (the boyfriend's allocated name which he would murder me if he saw) to use the meat thermometer and told the many cooking temperatures one should aim for but not exceed. I've also been informed (post sutures) how to properly use a big knife. Watching the food network WAY more than any one person should have to has given me an appreciation for a pretty plate, so when I saw all the adorable cutting utensils online I had to figure out a way to need them.

Since Bubby is a diabetic and I need to lose about 15 pounds, I've been looking into low carb options for lunch. The hours at work are my bad times. Either I snack all day on things I shouldn't and eat a not so great for me lunch, or I wait until 1:30 without eating much bfast and am starving and graze all night when I get home. I basically sit right next to the refrigerator (which is fairly typical: stinky and full of other people's leftovers) so I have ample opportunity to put fresh snacks in... If I ever remember to buy/prepare them.

Then I saw it. The pinnacle of cute utensils. The reason to surround myself with crafts... and be able to eat them! The chance to make Bubby open his lunch box and blush as his co-workers hoot and hollar with gleeful pointing! Oh, um... I mean... The chance to show off my crafty prowess and keep the diabetes and pounds at bay!

Bento Boxes.

Adorable cookie cutters, egg shapers, pretty boxes to place my perfectly prepared (ok, burnt or undercooked) lunches into. As a gal with a lot of allergies, not all the recipes I find are acceptable; as the girlfriend of a diabetic, I have to make sure he's not sneaking twinkies or scarfing down a bag of tortilla chips (Yes. I saw the bag you hid under the banana peel, I'm no dummy).

For the next however long my attention stays on this time I shall be attempting to remember to post a (not) snarky rendition of my pursuit of life, love and hopefully not too insultingly anglicized bento.