I hope I piss you off with this one. By you, I mean the collective. The meat-eating public. The fact of the matter is: vegetarians are better cooks. Now I'm not claiming that I, myself am a culinary genius, so don't challenge me to a cook off or anything macho. I'm speaking more"¦in general terms.

Vegetarians are more creative when it comes to cooking. Perhaps it's because there are fewer ingredients to cook with. Or perhaps it's true. Vegetarians are just better at everything, including cooking. Ok, so I made the latter part of that sentence up, but the first fact stands. A narrow list of ingredients forces a chef to be creative. Meatchefs (I hope this word catches on), on the other hand"¦ just add chicken.

For example. What do meatchefs use to add flavor to everything from meat, potatoes, soup, bread, casseroles, mixed vegetables, and cardboard if given the chance? The answer: animal stock. A substance most commonly made from beef, chicken and veal bones. Mmm.

When truly, I don't have much of a problem with meatchefs. They can go on leading their boring little culinary lives, while I'll enjoy a feast of vegetarian flavors. What really upsets me, is when a meatchef starts murdering vegetables.

There's nothing so obvious, as when a traditional meatchef attempts to make a vegetarian dish. A perfect example of this is at the Sour Dough Place at 821 N. Division. This might be Spokane's epicenter for meatchefs who try to cook with vegetables.

I recently tried their cheesy cauliflower soup. Although the sourdough bread bowl was rather good, the soup tasted like liquefied Cheez Wiz combined with water and a few cauliflower florets. Silly meatchefs, you can't just throw vegetables into a tub of water and call it soup.

Side note: I used the word meatchef seven times in this blog post. I've done my part. Now it's up to you, the general public to make it catch on.

My boyfriend is continually guilty of what I call BWI. Baking while intoxicated. I realize this might be a familiar or unusual phenomenon to you, but in my household (consisting of just me, my boyfriend and my cat) it's a familiar occurrence. Needless to say, the cat is rarely guilty.

For what appears to be no particular reason, my boyfriend's favorite BWI treat is muffins. His latest culinary adventure included a standard blueberry muffin mix, cinnamon, powdered sugar, bananas and craisins.

Now I'll admit, I wasn't an innocent bystander; and I didn't exactly discourage his enthusiasm for smothering those poor little muffins. Rather, this time around I was a cheerleader. Aimlessly searching through our cupboards, we couldn't wait to see what we could add next. Luckily, the ingredients ran at last dry with the craisins.

Now muffin assembly is easy. Flop in bowl and stir. The actual baking part is where it gets tricky. I told my boyfriend time and time again (as intoxicated people are hard of hearing) about the knife test. According to my mother and bakers the world over, if you poke a knife into the muffin and it comes out clean, as in no batter or crumbs on the knife, the muffins are ready.

Unfortunately my chaperon’s eye grew weary, and I left him to finish the muffins alone. And finish them he did. Every single muffin… of about 14. Overall the muffins didn't turn out half bad, a little gooey in the center but all in all it was an impressive accomplishment given his state. I truly don't mind BWI-ing, with supervision so long as the recipes don't get too intense. The day he tries to make cheesecake, is the day we're over.