New Years Resolutions are boring. Fact. That doesn't mean that they aren't useful or meaningful, granted, but there is nothing interesting in platitudes about healthy eating or renewed devotion to exercise or diligent housework. And by boring I don't mean that I'm just embarrassed to admit that a week of houseguests back to back with an exhausting headcold and many extra hours at work have left my apartment in a state unfit for company, just that there is nothing inherently electrifying in a discussion thereof.

That being said, I do hope to do all those pedestrian and grownup things in 2009: eat out less, cook in even more, put my laundry away after I do it and not just pick clean underwear out of a pile on my floor which badly needs a vacuum, put more vegetables and less fried food into my body, attempt to have a much lower percentage of my bloodstream be comprised of diet coke and beer, read more novels and watch fewer bret michaels based reality tv shows, blah blah blah, etc.

Killing several birds with one green leafy stone, I made amazing roasted brussels sprouts this week. This recipe is adapted from a crappy recipe I found on The Kitchn. My mom and I decided to serve brussels sprouts on Christmas Eve, and I foolishly prepared this recipe for the meal without giving it a test run first. Bad call. Barely blanched brussels sprouts sitting in a cold soup of lemon juice and olive oil are just not very good. The flavor combinations were a good idea, but the execution as a cold salad doesn't come close to working. We repurposed the leftovers the next day by roasting the whole mess in the oven with plenty of butter and had a much better dish at Christmas dinner. Since then, I've prepared this sprout recipe as a hot dish two more times to great happiness and success.

Lemon Roasted Brussels Sprouts

Preheat your oven to 350. Wash, trim and halve a pound or two of brussels sprouts straight into your dutch oven. Add a shallot or onion thinly sliced and several cloves of garlic chopped as finely as you have the patience for (I barely chop mine in half; peeling and chopping garlic is my very least favorite kitchen task). Zest a lemon and squeeze the juice over the mixture and salt and pepper generously. Add a glug or two of olive oil or softened butter and stir everything to coat. I also added some shredded zuchinni because I had it lying around. I like preparing roasted vegetables because they are especially forgiving of experimental vegetable combinations.

Cover the vegetables and place in the oven for 30 minutes. At that point stir and put back in the over for another 20 minutes or so. This dish keeps well and can be served alongside most things. I ate it plain the night I made it, for lunch a few days later with leftover sausage and potatoes, mixed into black bean soup the day after that, and on Friday night I threw whatever was left of it into the crock pot with a pot roast. Delicious and magical.

Something Amazing:  Whatever, Martha.  

If you get the Fine Living Channel (I have no idea if this is part of basic cable or extended or the crazy 500 channel package I have, because I had never heard of it before today, which is a travesty, because I am about to tell you about the best show in the universe), you need to watch Whatever, Martha.  This is a show where Martha Stewart's daughter, Alexis, sits around watching old episodes of the Martha Stewart show and being dirty and sassy about it.  No seriously, it is an amazing concept and actually very funny in real life.  Watching this show, I suddenly I realized that I am some weird middle ground hybrid between prissy, crafty Martha and inappropriate, snarky Alexis.  Further, Alexis pretends to hate all the fussy things Martha does on her show, but after Alexis proves she knows a recipe for pesto off the top of her head, when her dopey co-host talks about how the hardest thing she can make is scrambled eggs, the look of incredulous contempt that Alexis shoots her is worth ten million dollars.  Also, I like jokes about "rock hard" pillows.  So sue me.  Two thumbs up.  

As of last night, I have officially suffered through an entire unbearable season of "How Do You Solve A Problem Like Maria," the Canadian version. I still don't really understand why I stuck it out, other than the fact that I never cancelled the DVR recordings of the show, so every Sunday and Monday evening, without fail, new episodes would deposit themselves into my cable box, daring me to delete them just in case this was the week that the show became a worthwhile use of human energy. I know why I started watching the show; I love The Sound of Music. I am the kind of person who gleefully attends "The Singalong Sound of Music" every chance I get, and a reality show dedicated to singing the songs of my favorite Rogers and Hammerstein musical sounded like a great way to spend an hour every week. Unfortunately, this show was not a genius melding of the best parts of American Idol and musical theater. It was just a low-budget, vapidly stupid mess connected to the saga of the Von Trapps in only the very barest sense. Much like Season 4 of Project Runway, it was shockingly clear from the first episodes that one contestant was heads and shoulders above any of the others, and most of the season was devoted to maintaining the charade that Janna wasn't the best contestant when she obviously was. The only truly inspired performance in the entire series was when, on "Canada" week, Janna somehow and against all odds turned Nelly Furtado's "Turn Out The Lights" into this crazy, awesome call-and-response musical theater anthem. Other than that, it was shocking how tone-deaf and boring the other contestants were, how small and orange the judges and host were (see photo above), how utterly inept the entire sound, lighting and camera crews were, and mostly, how annoying and egomaniacal Andrew Lloyd Webber is. I had placed my faith so blindly in Canada and CBC, trusting them to show the world how to do a reality show singing competition right. Sadly, it looks like the unwashed masses in Canada rest around the same lowest common denominator as they do in the United States (I'm looking at you, Brooke Hogan!). And I guess that helps to explain how Little Mosque on the Prairie happened.

Hey, Khia, you know what sucks? Having only one breakout hit and having it be so disgusting and full of degenerate sexual acts that I am scared to even paraphrase the lyrics here because I know my mom reads this blog. Oh, wait, you know what is also terrible? Appearing on a bottom of the barrel Vh1 reality show about female rappers. Crap, it gets worse. Despite the fact that you are semi-famous for rapping about your personal proclivities, you are considered less of an authority on rap music than the dorky fat white judge, and you are a contestant on this show. Aw, Khia, what happens next? You get kicked off the show for cheating and not writing original lyrics?! Really? That is so tragic is is almost not funny. Almost. I still laughed pretty hard.

Also? This show, Miss Rap Supreme, is totally bizarre. I consider myself to quite experienced in deciphering the interpersonal relations and issues between reality television stars, but man, I have no idea what these women are always fighting about. I think that maybe they are just yelling because it feels cathartic. That's really the only reason I can imagine that two grown women would go from kissing each other to screaming loudly about which one is more of a "devil." Further, the premise of this show is that it is a rapping talent competition, and I don't want to sound like an old lady here, but I can't even tell if they're rapping well or not because they swear so much that it is all bleeped out. The presumptive front runner in the competition, a woman who goes by the name "Nicky2States," is repeatedly told by the judges what a good rapper she is, but I literally have no idea, because I haven't heard her speak a whole sentence that wasn't stripped of all meaning by the rampant bleeping. And while I am a connoisseur of the well placed expletive, Vh1, you are basic cable, not HBO. . . understand your limitations.