This cake goes out to the broken-hearted, the star-crossed lovers, and the happily ever afters. It goes out to the Valentines and the Galentines. And to the person who’s been hoping that brownies and chocolate cake would finally make a baby. (They did!) It goes out to the person looking to use up extra wine (though I’ve never been that person). Are you out there? Extra and wine rarely make it into the same sentence around here, unless I call my neighbor and say, “Hey, do you have any extra wine?” Read more
Writing isn’t coming easily to me these days between the general anxieties of starting a new year, the political climate, my friend’s meeting and losing their baby, and Kev saying goodbye to his grandma—all held within the capsule of a month. This mighty big pill is currently lodged in my mind, leaving me with crumbs of insistent thoughts that will find no other way out except out (or swallowed). So today, even if only for myself, I need to couch the weight of these thoughts inside lofty, bittersweet black cookies and get them out. Read more
It’s a Molly Mash-up! I took her Pimiento Cheese Babka recipe from her new book Molly on the Range. Deleted the pimiento cheese because I gave my mom a hard time about eating pimiento cheese sandwiches my whole life. (I can’t go back on my word now.) And added in Molly’s Chocolate Halva—a chocolate tahini spread (think fancy nutella). For the final Molly touch, I gave these buns a wash of liquid honey and sprinkled them with all the sprinkles. Molly makes food happy, which is why I’m still bummed I met her for the first time with only half a smile. Read more
The sprinkler runs as we try to salvage our patchy lawn. First time homeowners. Seizing the opportunity, she puts on her swimsuit. I’m glad I skipped buying that $7.99 kiddie pool at Target. It would have been a better mold-grower and debris-collector anyways. She runs a miles worth up and down the driveway, dripping wet, under the canopy of droplets that touch the rays of sun before landing on her. Then the tears show up. I look for blood from the inevitable stubbed toe. Nothing. Read more
Do you remember when this blog was strictly about baking with a side of soup? A couple years in and my pants got tight, so I shifted my focus to healthier (that’s a loaded word), wholesome eats. And then I got pregnant with Hal, ate ice cream every night, and baked liked it was my job. After she arrived, I was certain I’d have to majorly cool it. But for the first time in my entire life, I had trouble keeping on weight. I guess nursing can do that to you. Of course, that luck eventually ran out. Hard. I went back to my healthier, more balanced ways. That’s when Kev started asking, “Where’s the dessert?” To which I responded, “Did you shrink my jeans in the dryer?” My favorite skit on Whose Line Is It Anyway? was always “Questions Only”. It’s exactly as it sounds: you can only respond with questions. Read more
I had the opportunity to fly to Portland on a #chiptrip with Kettle Chips. We toured their beautiful innovation center and production facility. In fact, it’s so beautiful I didn’t believe they actually produced chips on-site until I saw chips being produced on-site. A modern building straight out of Dwell Magazine greeted us. Lush, thoughtful landscaping stood between the restored wetlands and the innovation center. Could it be possible to love Kettle Chips even more? I knew it was in the realm after having my mind blown the night before at Park Kitchen. We finished dinner with a bittersweet chocolate tart that sat above a pool of salted caramel sauce. Adjacent to the tart was a scoop of hazelnut ice cream with crunchy Salt and Vinegar Kettle Chips underneath. Salt and Vinegar Chips! I’ve never fallen so madly, deeply in love with a dessert. It’s like the first 10 seconds of a Christina Aguilera song when she hits every last note. Bitter, sweet, salty, sour, smooth, rich, crunchy. I was ruined. Read more
“Be somebody who makes everybody feel like a somebody.” —Kid President
I need to tattoo this to the inside of my hand. Most days I’m just making sure I feel like a somebody. We have two mirrors in our tiny apartment—one that’s covered in so much dust I don’t have to worry about the reflection as I pass. The other, in the bathroom, I quickly skirt by until the end of the day. That’s when I usually catch a glimpse of the disheveled person walking by. Read more
If you know me well, you probably know that if you call, text, message, or email me, it may be days (or, I’m embarrassed to say, sometimes weeks) until I respond. It’s not for lack of thought. I replay the correspondence in my head a million times and search for the perfect response. In fact, I respond so many times in my head, I think I’ve actually responded. It’s a problem. Read more