I’ve been toting around the tagline made from scratch for a couple years. But it didn’t feel right until now. Homemade marshmallows have been mastered. This wasn’t my first rodeo though. A couple summers ago I made them (different recipe) and forced them down my poor family’s throat. They were entirely ho-hum. As was my reputation and dream of roasting homemade marshmallows around the campfire.
My mom’s in town for the week. We’ve been eating well. Very well. Drinking plenty of glasses of wine and sharing stories we’ve probably told a million times. They’re stories that make our family unique. Stories about my brother chasing my sister down the beach declaring, “sweet revenge,” with a plastic sword in his hand. Stories of sitting in ant piles and falling off my scooter. My dad picked every last pebble out of my knee. Stories of listening to my Big Bird tape player sing “I wanna go home” over and over again. Stories that no one else quite understands except my family. They’re ours. Read more
Roasted pumpkin purée makes all the difference. Preheat oven to 325°. Wash sugar pumpkin clean. Cut three 1-inch slits in the pumpkin to allow it to breath. Add pumpkin and an inch of water to a shallow pan. Bake for about an hour or until pumpkin is soft. Cool completely. Peel and discard seeds. Mash pumpkin meat and store covered in the refrigerator, or measure out 1-cup bags and store in freezer.
If you’ve over-whipped your whipped cream like I do nearly every time, don’t fear. Add about 1 teaspoon more of heavy cream at a time and carefully whip or fold into your over-whipped cream until it’s back to a normal consistency
Have you heard a heart beat before? Sometimes I like to sit and watch the vein pulse on my husband’s neck. It’s rhythmic. It’s comforting. It’s my favorite feeling.
My sister and I came home this weekend. She’s in school to become a Physician Assistant. She pulled out her stethoscope, and we started listening. To my heart. It beats slow and steady. To her heart. Slightly faster than mine. To my mom’s heart. It’s even faster with a gurgle. She has Mitral Valve Prolapse. Read more
Where there’s a will, there’s a way. And when your husband asks for that Catalina topped taco salad from his youth, you’ll find a way to make the dressing from scratch. Not because he asked. But because you’re anal and Kraft just wont do.
He might tell you to just go and buy the store bought stuff. And he might turn up his nose at your homemade stuff. But as soon as it hits his mouth, he’s happy, wholesome, and asking for seconds. Read more
I have this indescribable, yet unnecessary, need to make everything from scratch. Pop tarts. Naan. Pie Crust. Ice Cream. At times it can be ridiculous. Overzealous. Marked by trial and error and more error. But in the end, after I wipe the flour, sweat, and, in this case, fig puree from my forehead, I feel accomplished. I beat the machine, the big company, the artificial flavors, the cardboard packaging, and plastic wrapping to make homemade fig newtons. And you can too. Sweet victory. Read more