Forty with Foreman

If you would have told me a month ago that I’d be writing a blog about a man who was an Olympic gold medalist in boxing, a Baptist minister, and an entrepreneur—I’d have laughed in your adorable face. But somehow lately, probably as a desperate attempt to rejuvenate my blogging efforts, I stumbled upon a new little project/idea…and the result is a blog about my new hero, George Foreman.

Y’all remember when this big ‘ole man first came out with the invention? I do. I remember watching the infomercials with the fat dripping down out of the patented sloping griddle…just imagining how glorious I’d feel dumping that fat down the sink rather than into my mouth and onto my hips. I jumped on the Foreman Grill Bandwagon way back when—favoring this handy device as my primary cooking tool in college. Back then, in college, I burnt the dickens out of most of the chickens I ever laid across the steaming slats of the original Foreman.

But that was college. Now, thirty-year-old-Corrie would OBVIOUSLY do better…so I thought. As I unloaded the groceries from my car, my new man-friend arrived just in time to help. He laughed with his slow, deep-Southern drawl: “Oooooh, my goodness. What. Is. This? You’ve done got you a FOREMAN?” I laughed tentatively before telling him that the dinner I’d lured him over with would be cooked on the new grill. After receiving a smirk of doubt from him, I hurried on to explain my new plan to keep up with the blog.

“Hunnnnnnn,” I conjured my sweetest, flirtiest explanation, “Ya seeee, I’m plannin’ to do a blog series that I’m-a-title Forty with Foreman.” He laughed, probably at my attempt to be cute, and asked what the “Forty” would be: Forty days? Forty meals? He was the second person to echo doubt that I’d make it forty days in a row with the blogging. Earlier in the evening, my best friend Leslie got a big kick outta me saying I’d do forty days of blogging. Normally, this would be my invitation to blog for forty straight days if it hair-lipped Georgia, but I reckon they may be right. SO, tonight will be my first installment of “Forty MEALS with Foreman.” It’s like the low-carb, low-fat, charred, burnt-up version of Julie and Julia. I admired the cooking manual as if it were Mrs. Julia Child's Mastering the Art of French Cooking itself.

After deciding that I should pose just like George in my opening photo of this inaugural blog, I burnt—I mean blackened—two blue cheese/peppercorn burgers. Thank goodness I wasn't doing anything too crazy, like poaching eggs or making Beef Bourguignon. Just a couple of little ole burgers for tonight. Very fancy. Here’s the process:

1. Cook.

2. EAT (My obvious favorite).

3. Clean (Enjoying dumping the fat down the drain, rather than down to your derriere).

The dinner was definitely not Julia Childs, but it was decent. And, more importantly, my biggest hope is that it could lead to another kind of forty…as in pounds lost. Or maybe million...as in dollars I'll make when I become a real writer like Julie. But for now, as my dearest ones have suggested, it is gonna lead to meal 1 of 40--with my friend, Foreman.