We made it. Halfway across the country. With our loot and car attached. We said goodbye to our old home and hello to a new one. We unpacked globs of boxes, put together stupid amounts of Ikea furniture, and painted some of it too. High stress situations don’t always lead to the smartest decisions. Needless to say, I’m banned from painting furniture and reading Young House Love for awhile. They give me way too many ideas. Read more
I should be packing. And organizing. And throwing out things I haven’t touched in the past four years since moving to Chicago. I shouldn’t be blogging and baking and coming up with new recipes. I shouldn’t be running to Trader Joe’s to pick up bags of ingredients. Or setting up my white boards in front of the window to wait for the light to turn just right. Read more
I’m fighting against the seasonal clock to make as many rhubarb infested treats as possible. The window is short. Too short. I nearly broke out in sweat on a cool 70° morning at the farmer’s market this week. Was I late? Where’s all the rhubarb? Oh, it was there alright. At the very last stand. 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
The wedding madness has passed. And my little sister is now a married woman. My heart is crazy happy for her. The wedding was absolutely beautiful. And I am absolutely pooped (in the best possible way). In true fashion, we bit off more than we could chew. But we got it done. Read more
I’ve been holding out on you. Though it wasn’t intentional.
Remember Bitchin’ Sauce, the original version? Conceived 3.25 months ago. Well, she has a sister. And her name is Chipotle. It’s never good to play favorites, but she might just be mine. Her personality is bold and spicy. But she’s not the overbearing type. I think you’ll like her. Read more
One of my favorite people in this world is my sister. Based on our childhood, though, you would never have guessed that we’d grow up to like each other. I was the older leave-me-alone sister. Don’t play with my toys. Get out of my room. She had a habit of cutting the hair off of all her dolls so I had good reason to keep my doors shut and my pristine dolls safe. I wont even mention the time she stabbed me in the foot with a sharpened Little Mermaid pencil. Or the time I let her get in trouble (big trouble) for something I did. No, I wont mention those times. 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
