6 Oct

I very rarely give a fuck about what anyone writes about me. I mean I definitely do give a fuck, but I give a fuck here:

“Chrissy Teigan is married…and in being married has found a new low level strategy to get noticed…that involves showing her nippple..

She’s a little Pug-Faced, and not in a good way, because if you know anything about me or the site, I have a #stepPUG and I call myself a Pug Whisperer, but human pugs aren’t quite as cute…

She’s just not really hot at all, and sure she has tits and a body, and has been in SI, but I think it’s time for her to just get knocked up and live that gold digging wife life…

She bores me, even with all her twitter jokes….that suck…time to shut it down.”

Before I continue, this is NOT a woe-is-me post. I have such a wonderful, lucky life. I am blessed to have the best friends, and wonderful family and opportunities I could have never imagined. But I am also hopelessly insecure and nervous and anxious and self-concious. I have endless back and forth conversations with my own brain, where I answer my own questions and squash my own dreams. Things like this leave an emotional mark.

I read many blogs. Soooo many blogs. Too many blogs. I get snarky. I love snarky. I love funny. I love smart. I love when the author has a point of view I don’t agree with and yet still somehow “get” where they are coming from. Sometimes that will be about me, and I still, still understand and even get my eyes opened up to my own behavior. But this is my breaking point with this particular person – this sick man – that runs this site.

This (popular) site is so dirty, so malicious, so vile that it actually frightens me. This man, in person, would frighten me. He is one step away from talking about molesting a young hollywood starlet. And he gets away with it.

I would also like to note that this isn’t even close to his first disgusting post about me. The strangest, grossest thing is reading his first post – typical misogynistic shit I am quite used to, then seeing this weird escalation of hatred for me.

“Chrissy Teigan is some fat Sports Illustrated model who always talks about food as fat girls who don’t know they are fat do…she’s the kind of girl who as her belly hangs over her pants but talks to people about how she doesn’t have to work out cuz she’s naturally beautiful…even though she’s is one of those positive reinforcement situations gone wrong…where it gives a girl an ego, that tricks the rich dudes around her enough to marry her, and get her booked doing Candy commercials, when really Candy is the last thing she should be eating, but can be eating cuz her professional gold digging has gone heavy equipment and is now gold mining…”

They get worse and worse, with this undertone of him feeling like we are close. Makes me want to back off the twitter.

“I just assume it’s like we’re an old married couple who have never met..I talk, she ignores…I masturbate to other girls…but still follow her shit…cuz I feel obligated…even if her jokes aren’t that funny…and her focus should be spent on getting naked….something she finally delivered on today…..cuz she posted a pic of her mixed race ass gold digging wannabe comedian ass getting a spray tan…and sharing said spray tan with her followers…cuz she’s open about her life like that…and because she more importantly….she loves any and all attention…that’s what happens to girls who only do SI…but never make the cover of SI….they work harder on building their own brand….which is made easier when financed by some dude she groupied right.”

I can’t even begin to think of where to start here. And enough with the “Just ignore it” thing. I cannot just absorb hurtful words into my brain and barf them up. This fucking piece of shit douchebag gets PAID to write vile things like this about absolutely everybody. I actually kind of get people shitting on me sometimes, but this guy does it to some of the most talented women in the world. Actually ALL of them. And he gets away with it. Because he is a blogger and nobody knows who the fuck he really is.

If you’re anything like me, words hurt. Period. People tell me all the time that I shouldn’t give a shit because I work / have money / have John. But the simple truth is that I, like many people, women especially, remember hurtful comments for a long, long time. Some things just last, even when you don’t want them to. I remember small mid-fight verbal jabs that were thrown at me many ex-boyfriends ago. Even the small ones (the jabs, not the ex wellllll actually yes both) I have read so many things throughout the years that I have developed complexes I would have NEVER had otherwise. And I hate it.

One thing I have been working on a lot in life is trying to give people the benefit of the doubt. If someone cuts in front of me, is snappy with me, or is just a general jerk, I try to think that maybe they have just had the most horrible day of their lives. It helps. Because sometimes I am having an utterly horrible day that I wouldn’t want anyone to encounter me on.

But this is different. This sucks. If John could tell you anything about me, it’s that I have this insane obsession with justice. Could I let shit like this slide? Absolutely. But sometimes people need to know when they’re wrong. Sometimes people need to know when they’re assholes. Sometimes people need to know that what they say hurts somebody.

I am not a fucking robot (which, as you know, I hate) I have approximately 1 billion insecurities. You don’t know that I have had my Britney head-shaving moments. You don’t know that I have seen windows before that I stared at for hours, wondering how long the fall was. You don’t know that I completely detest the taste of alcohol and drink it only for the feeling of not caring of your negativity or the pressure to be “on”. I worry about work, my age, my body, my future, my family. Every fucking day. Like anyone else.

This is not my life. I am not always like this, but sometimes I am, like we all are. We all wonder what the fuck we are doing with our lives, if people like us, if people respect us.

I don’t know when this happened, but somewhere between Al Gore inventing the internet and now, people have taken a lot more pride in being hurtful. I say a lot on twitter. A lot. And I completely deserve most of the shit I get back. But bloggers have this odd sense of soul-selling. They have an outreach of MILLIONS and yet choose to be horrible for the sake of page views or character-playing.

When I first met John, I remember a certain conversation we had. He said something about truly believing human beings were inherently good. And I disagreed. Please teach me to not disagree with this.

Anyhow. I really love you guys. I just had to write. It isn’t just about me – I am sad for everyone he writes about. I am sad this is his life and this is how he makes money. This person is truly sick. And I am not comfortable with people like this walking around this planet.

AND THIS IS NOT MEANT FOR COMPLIMENTS. Actually, don’t even leave comments. I just needed to vent.



27 Sep

Screen Shot 2013-09-27 at 3.15.15 PM

We loooooooove Florence. In 2009, John and I visited Rome, Florence and Venice. It was off-season and I will never ever forget running around empty Venice, making out like teenagers in narrow little alleyways, freezing our asses off. I don’t think I even ever want to see it during a different time, it was just that great.  Years ago, Roger Ebert wrote the most beautiful open love-letter to his wife, briefly talking about how that was also their favorite time to go —  you know what, if you haven’t read it, it is just wonderful:

Anyhow, while Venice was a definitely highlight of our trip to Italy, there was one more. The bistecca alla florentina – Florentine steak – at a little mom and pop restaurant called Pandemonio just across the bridge in Florence.

Screen Shot 2013-09-27 at 3.03.19 PM

I have had 2 life-changing steaks in my life. This Florentine, and one at Babbo in NYC that made me want to bring the cow back to life, kiss it’s face and kill it all over again.

Screen Shot 2013-09-27 at 3.12.45 PM

You were a good cow.

Screen Shot 2013-09-27 at 3.09.56 PM

Propped up on one side by a spoon and pieces of bread on one side, the juice fills the edge, creating a pool of olive oily, meaty, salty deliciousness for you to dip your bites into. Oh baby.

ALSO RECOMMEND: Mama’s homemade pasta with special mama meat sauce (errr) SO WONDERFUL

Screen Shot 2013-09-27 at 3.04.38 PM

Sigh. I miss it already. A night in Florence wasn’t even in our original plan but hey, it’s steak.



24 Sep

Man, what a beautiful, beautiful place.

Screen Shot 2013-09-24 at 8.27.00 PM

Since I’m still out of cooking commission, I’m feeling pretty worthless in this blogging thing….currently boating our way through Greece, trying to detox all the pasta we have consumed in the past week. How much pasta could two people eat in one week? Well let’s see…7 days in a week, pasta 3 times a day, (lunch, second lunch/first dinner, dinner) times two people, romantically sharing like those dogs from that movie I never saw because I was busy watching murder movies with mom yep, that young….well it’s a lot of pasta.

Also got to eat the best pizza of our lives there. OUR ENTIRE LIVES.

Screen Shot 2013-09-19 at 7.43.29 PM

Screen Shot 2013-09-19 at 7.24.32 PM

Screen Shot 2013-09-19 at 7.44.19 PM

DFDkldjgldksjgsgkjdskgjsdgkjdsgj. The crust. Nothing will ever, ever compare.

I am dying to get an outdoor pizza oven in LA. I once googled if non-businesses can get customized pizza boxes. I tested logos (turns out my face is cartoony just as it is) They can. We can. This is my next goal in life. My goals are quite small but very filling.

But, oh yes, we ate more (I have no clue if anyone is interested in this but I figure since I was the loser taking all the pictures of things she eats, I might as well post em)

Here are some of the tastiest things that went down my eat hole in beautiful Portofino…

Continue reading

Oh hi!

19 Sep

Screen Shot 2013-09-19 at 6.56.16 PM


It’s been a while but rather than address it, let’s pretend I never left (like your dad!) (yikes) (jk)

So we are in bliss. Obviously so happy, but more than that, SO HUNGRY.

“What are you doing to get ready for the wedding?” was a question I dreaded answering, because there is nothing I hate more than diet talk . But I’ve decided the only thing worse than diet talk are people pretending they eat whatever they want, whenever they want, and still look good. Lying. Bastards.

Before the wedding, I decided I would stop with the low-carb. I mean, it works for a bit. But hello. The fact I could eat 10 pounds of bacon and not a piece of pineapple — well that was a bit insane. I ate normally, incorporated grains that I am ashamed to even know the names of, and…..WORKED. OUT. I actually kind of got on a workout kick. The worst part of working out ended up being the drive there (I was in LA a lot, and going to Physique 57 — a barre class I LOVE– which was in Beverly Hills AKA not close to me) but man. I was really proud of myself. I remember waking up at 6am on a Sunday. A GOD DAMN SUNDAY, and having John look at me and say, “who. are. you.” I was on a mission. I even bought weights online that I never used and simply stared at while in bed, playing Mario. That’s something, right?

Anyhoo, every single workout, every single time I turned down the pasta for a kale salad…every time we had a bbq and I sat on my bed telling myself ribs aren’t even that delicious, I said to myself, “A few more weeks, Chrissy. Then anything goes.”

And holy shit. Everything is going. Everything is going inside me. Go ahead and say it. Because that is. what she said.

I’m taking pictures of every meal I can. At this very moment, I am full of minestrone, bread, and vodka soda. I am laying next to John here in Capri and want to share as much as possible with you. I’ve missed you.

Thank you so much for all the well-wishes. As long as we were already together, it’s still nice to look over and see a ring on his finger. I hope to fatten him up so much on this trip that it is impossible for him to ever remove it.

Love you guys. Happy to be back.

And for the record, that is a ginormous carrot cake with cream cheese frosting. We cut it, it fell on the floor, rolled around, and John fed it to me. We then did the one thing I swore we wouldn’t do — the face shove.

Twas an amazing night.


The Perfect Scallop

11 Mar

I am insecure with many things I cook. But scallops? Oh I’m good at scallops.

Screen Shot 2013-03-07 at 9.40.43 AM

My favorite things about scallops: their delectable sweetness, their ability to morph flavors and be perfect with whatever surrounding you choose, and the fact that all you need is salt and pepper to make them the (people take .edu things more seriously I don’t know why this hasn’t caught on)

About a year ago, I did a post about scallops thinking I knew what I was doing. I mean, I used FLOUR. I am ashamed and have since removed the post. Scallops are one of those meals that impress people when done at home — and it cannot get any easier than this.


Oh god. I’m sad. Typing this out is now painful.

ANY. HOW. Now I will angrily type this out dammit shit fuck balls HERE:

STEP FUCKING ONE: It is crucial that your scallops are super, super dry. Oh please, please do not buy them frozen and thaw them, I beg of you. When you are ready to start your super awesome meal, lay out your scallops onto a bed of 2 or 3 paper towels. Dab em dry, let em sit for a bit, turn em over, and let them sit for a little bit longer.

STEP FUCKING TWO: When they are nice and dry, season them WELL! Scallops are super sweet — one of the carbiest of the ummmm uhhhhhhhh *opens new window, wikipedias scallops* marine bivalve mollusks of the pectinidae family also the cosmopolitan family wtf anyhow they’re sweet so they can handle more kosher salt than you’d think. I heavily pepper mine as well — fiiiiine pepper so it don’t burn, worrrrrd. Season both sides and let those little marine bivalve mollusks chillax.

Screen Shot 2013-03-07 at 10.05.18 AM

STEP THREE (not mad anymore): Take your pan (preferably stainless steel because it gets nice and hot) and put in one tablespoon of unsalted butter and one tablespoon of oil (canola, veg, grapeseed, peanut — not olive!). Get it nice and hot on high (smoking) and set your timer for 90 seconds to 2 minutes. The ones i have photographed are a little under 2 minutes because I love a dark sear outside and the middle ends up just perfect. Don’t just use oil — the butter is what will make it nice and brown.

Screen Shot 2013-03-07 at 9.41.27 AM

STEP FOUR: Put your scallops on and listen to that fat sear your scallops to perfection. DFWI! That’s “don’t fuck with it”! The urge to move your marine bovine sandy pollock cosmopolitan hotels will be strong. FIGHT THE URGE! When the timer is up, flip em and do the other side for 90 seconds to 2 minutes.

Screen Shot 2013-03-07 at 10.02.14 AM

STEP FIVE: Take pictures with your dog because she is adorbz.

Screen Shot 2013-03-07 at 10.03.24 AM

Of course, you can cook these scallops a little more or a little less depending on how you like them. My mom likes them borderline raw so I just do a little less than a minute on each side. Dad likes them well done, so I go a little over two minutes each side. Remember not to crowd the pan — I do just 3 or 4 at a time and clean out the pan between batches. The entire cooking process is so quick that it’s not a big deal and it is totally worth it for the beautiful little bastards.

What have I plated them with, you ask?

Screen Shot 2013-03-07 at 10.05.46 AM

Continue reading

The World’s Best Caesar Salad Dressing In the Universe World Most Delicious

6 Mar

Okay. I have no idea if that’s true. But I’ve learned that if you use the words “best”, “most”, “delicious” or “world” in your recipe, the post is pretty much the first thing that comes up if googled, whether it’s awesome or not.

But. I would never say that without the confidence that it really is as good as it gets, as far as simple/delicious goes. And who doesn’t want that?

Exhibit A: Simple.

Screen Shot 2013-03-06 at 4.03.30 PM

Worcestershire sauce. Essentially, war shi shire. Like chill on the letters, UK-place-I-just-wiki’ed. Let’s share with other words okay?

Mayo. If you have an aversion to mayo, why are you even here? Did it hurt your family? Unless it hurt your family you need to relax and enjoy the simple things in life. Like oil and eggs beat together until unrecognizable.

Dijon. I never have fewer than 3 jars of dijon mustard in my fridge.

Garlic. Because garlic is awesome.

Parmesan cheese. Freshly grated. Leave the green Kraft shaker tubes in your college days, like your liver/positivity/sense of hope for the world.

Lemon. Because it’s tangy and stuff.

Anchovy paste. You can find by the cans of tuna in any grocery store. I KNOW. Anchovies are weird. They look gross. Whole, they are freaky. In a paste, they look like baby shit. I can’t put it any other way: you’re gonna have to get over this. It’s a must. Like loving your own children.

Salt and Pepper. Not sure if I’ve ever told you my favorite but Diamond Crystal kosher salt is just the tits. Today I read that Taylor Swift said there is a special place in hell for Amy Poehler, Tina Fey and table salt. Random I know, but I agree, Taytay.

Here’s the recipe, friends…

Continue reading

On The Table with Eric Ripert

5 Mar

If you haven’t seen it yet, here is my episode of On The Table! I can’t really even put into words how surreal this experience was. But I will admit I teared up a bit at the end. What an amazing human, he is. AN HONOR.

Mama Teigen’s Jok Moo

Screen Shot 2013-03-05 at 12.21.27 PM

1 cup dry Jasmine rice
6 quarts water
1 bunch cilantro
1 bunch green onion
1.5 tbs kosher salt
(Optional egg)
Pork mixture, marinate for at least 1 hour, ideally overnight:
1.5 lbs ground 80/20 or 70/30 pork
15 garlic cloves
1 tbs coriander seeds
2 tbs black peppercorns
2 tbs fish sauce
With a mortar and pestle, pulverize garlic with the coriander and black peppercorns. Rough and rustic is best, some whole seeds, some finely crushed. Add the garlic mixture to the ground pork and mix thoroughly with your hands. Add the fish sauce and incorporate.
For the porridge:
In a 8-quart stock pot, fill with water 2 inches below the rim. Bring to a boil. Add the dry rice. It will take approximately 1.5 hours to boil the rice down to the right consistency. You want a nice and slow rolling boil. Stirring frequently, particularly when it thickens. You want the consistency of soupy oatmeal when you add the pork. The pork bits should be rough. Take a handful and pinch of little bits into the water, stirring so they don’t stick to each other. Add 1.5 tbs kosher salt (more or less to taste). Cover and allow to simmer on low for another 15-20 minutes. 
Just before serving, add cilantro and sliced green onion into the pot. You want them to be nice and bright green when you ladle into a soup bowl. An option at this point is to add a room temperature egg into your bowl to lightly poach it. Garnish with a little fresh cilantro, fried garlic, Thai chili powder, Thai chili in fish sauce, or pickled Thai chili – to your taste.


5 Mar


Screen Shot 2013-03-06 at 8.59.00 AM

Screen Shot 2013-03-05 at 11.35.18 AM

I have a few foods that I would eat daily, even multiple times a day if I could. Fried chicken and pancakes come to mind. But nothing is higher on that list than a McDonald’s Sausage McMuffin with Egg.

It’s one of the only things in life I have waited in an extensive line for with no regrets. I don’t know what it is about this thing — it’s clearly just a fast-food sandwich and probably something I’d never eat if I knew exactly what cow parts were in it. But it’s just so damn comforting to me. When I’m dieting, I take off the cheese-less muffin, I call it the McWaste, and call it my lower-carb sandwich.

Here is what I’ve conjured up as my excuse: when I was little and living in Snohomish, Washington, my dad used to fly for work, weekly. Every single Monday morning, around 4am, my mom would wake me up and put me in the car to drive him to the airport, which was a little over an hour away. I’d be asleep the entire journey to Sea-Tac, waking only to kiss my dad goodbye. But on the way home, around 6am, we would always, ALWAYS stop and get me this sandwich and 2 golden, crispy, greasy little hash browns. I had to have two. Then I’d go on to school, knowing the best part of my week was over. Until next Monday.

Eating this thing always reminds me of those long drives and how simple things used to make me so, so happy (and fat).

So when I moved to New York, I found myself never eating them and missing the crap out of them. But with no drive thrus in the city, I am not about to get my lazy (mostly hungover) ass into their fine dining establishment. That’s when John decided he could make something better. “BETTER? NO. MAYYYYBE SIMILAR”, I cried. But then this happened:

Screen Shot 2013-03-05 at 11.47.52 AM

Johnny was kind enough to write up his quick breakfast sandwich how-to for you! Months ago, really. But let’s not mention how long I’ve been gone for…

I know it’s easy. It’s not really a recipe. But I just love this thing so freaking much and it’s too big a part of my life not to share.

Take it away, John…

Continue reading

6-5-4 Days of Ramen — Day 4

29 Dec

Screen Shot 2012-12-30 at 9.02.51 AM

Is there an attractive way to slurp up noods?

Aaaaaaah. The last day of ramenfest. Our last day in Tokyo. What am I going to do without my daily bowl of sodium and carby goodness once I go back home!? Sure, there’s ramen there. But it just won’t be the same.

Thanks to a message from Ivan of Ivan Ramen (coming soon to NYC and we just happennnnn to be moving nearby), we had to make an extremely difficult decision: do we spend our last day of ramen eating at the place we couldn’t stop thinking about, Kyushu Jangara, or do we change it up for, well, you! Do I selfishly please my taste buds or take the risk?

Thankfully, we realized that taking a risk in Tokyo isn’t really taking a risk at all. This country. This food. These people. Everything is wonderful. There aren’t too many risks. It’s hard to be displeased here, it really is.

And so we did it. After a quick google search of 3 ramen places recommended by Ivan, we decided upon…

Okay I’ve never gotten to set up anything suspenseful let me do this please…

Continue reading

6…5…Okay 4 Days of Ramen

28 Dec

What! You really thought I would fulfill that? When have I ever done anything the way I originally set out to? Plus, I have a rather nice excuse.

Screen Shot 2012-12-29 at 7.05.09 AM

John had 3 birthday requests. One, a beautiful cut of Kobe beef. Two, I can’t say because my parents read this, and three: “please, no ramen.”

What is Kobe? Well allow me to copy and paste some shit from wikipedia!

Kobe beef (神戸ビーフ Kōbe bīfu?) refers to cuts of beef from the black Tajima-ushi strain of Wagyu cattle, raised according to strict tradition in Hyogo Prefecture, Japan. The meat is generally considered to be a delicacy, renowned for its flavor, tenderness, and fatty, well-marbled texture. Kobe beef can be prepared as steak, sukiyaki, shabu shabu, sashimi, teppanyaki, and more.

Kobe beef is also called Kobe niku (神戸肉?, “Kobe meat”), Kobe-gyu (神戸牛?) or Kobe-ushi (神戸牛?, “Kobe cow”) in Japanese.

In the USA, beef is often mislabeled as “Kobe” due to the lack of legal restrictions on the use of the term.

Basically, it’s melt-in-your-mouth cow flesh.

Let’s talk beef.

Continue reading