tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7082719666338418922024-02-21T12:10:27.091-06:00Foodie HouseLaurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01147344578518296814noreply@blogger.comBlogger122125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-708271966633841892.post-63075712320068899382012-09-24T21:19:00.000-05:002012-09-24T21:49:22.497-05:00Reserve Your Friday Nights for This Bread: Best Date Bread<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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You won't normally see me making a bunch of hullabaloo over dates. But this date bread...toasted with a nice schmear of butter...definitely worthy of a night in.<br />
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I've been away quite awhile, eight months to be exact. I recently was trying to find my recipe for <a href="http://foodiehouse.blogspot.com/2011/09/pour-some-sugar-on-me-brined-roasted.html">Sticky Chicken</a> and then I remembered that it was on the blog. After retrieving it for dinner that night, I sorta stuck around on my own blog, reading past posts and getting a little nostalgic. I really started to miss it.</div>
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I figured I didn't have much time anymore to blog about food. I've been pouring all my energies into our Etsy shop, Lauren Alison, which is also the brand we sell our screen printed linens under. When I say "we", I mean the Hubs and I. You can read all about how he quit his day job to build our brand together on our Etsy feature, Quit Your Day Job, blog post <a href="http://www.etsy.com/blog/en/2012/quit-your-day-job-laurenalison/">here</a>.</div>
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Between printing and sewing, I still am just as passionate about cooking and baking. And baking seems to be the big deal with me lately, especially bread. I happened on this recipe in a book I bought out of the bargain bin at Barnes and Noble about 2-3 years ago and never made a single recipe out of it! Man, I was missing out.</div>
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It's the perfect breakfast toast, although, it would be equally good served with cheese and fruit. It's dense, without being dry, hearty but not heavy and perfectly studded with sweet, sticky bits of dates. I'm thinking I may have to take a little break right now and pop a slice into the toaster for a evening snack.</div>
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I have modified it slightly to adapt to what I had on hand. Originally the recipe calls for figs and dates. All I had was dates and it was delicious. Enjoy with a hot cup of cocoa for those chilly, autumnal nights.</div>
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<b>Date Bread</b></div>
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adapted and modified from Paul Hollywood's Recipe from 100 Great Breads</div>
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Scant 2 1/2 cups whole wheat flour</div>
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2/3 cup white bread flour, plus extra for dusting</div>
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1 tbsp. salt</div>
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2 tbsp. instant yeast</div>
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1/2 stick softened butter</div>
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1 tbsp. molasses</div>
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1 1/4 c. water</div>
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1 cup dates, chopped</div>
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Mix flours, water, salt, yeast butter, molasses and water together for 5 minutes. Knead for 5 minutes. Let dough rise for 1 hour, covered or uncovered, makes no difference.</div>
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Line baking sheet with parchment paper. Incorporate dates into the dough and divide into two equal pieces. Shape them into balls, place on sheet and let rise 1 hour.</div>
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Preheat oven to 425 degrees. Dust loaves with flour and using a knife make three equidistant horizontal cuts all around each ball. Bake for 30 minutes, then transfer to a wire rack to cool.</div>
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It feels so good to write after so long. I've tried keeping up with another blog for Lauren Alison, but I find myself getting behind on it too. But there are a few posts you might enjoy, you can check it out here- <a href="http://www.laurenalison.com/">www.laurenalisondesign.com</a></div>
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Let me know what you've been up to! I miss you foodie friends!</div>
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Lauren</div>
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Laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01147344578518296814noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-708271966633841892.post-42933092068550803542012-02-24T14:13:00.000-06:002012-02-24T14:13:24.010-06:00Egg-Free Fruit Tart And Other Make-Shift Business Hello, dear Foodies! Long time, no blogging. I know. I wanted to let you know that I've been working away in my "studio" a.k.a dining room table, creating decorative pillow cover designs for my Etsy shop, <a href="http://www.etsy.com/shop/AlicesPocket?ref=si_shop">Alice's Pocket</a>. You can see a glimpse of my shop to the right... It's really fun with lots of eclectic bits. My pillows covers have been selling well and have even gotten some media attention!<br />
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<a href="http://www.kansascity.com/2012/01/25/3388946/q-a-lauren-zabaneh-overland-park.html">~Q and A Interview in the Kansas City Star </a><br />
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<a href="http://mrsblandings.blogspot.com/2012/02/wonderfulland.html">~Mrs. Blanding's Blog post</a><br />
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~and I will be on our local Fox 4 Sunday Morning show this Sunday, the 26th at 8:10 am! They want me to do a short segment on how to make a pillow and have some of my designs displayed! I'm super excited and a little nervous because it's live!! I don't want to trip or flip flop my words around and say something like "cillow povers", because I do that a lot.<br />
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So, as you can see much has been happening since I opened it's doors and I'm finding myself more and more consumed with creating new designs and curating more vintage pieces (which the Hubs and I collect together) and neglecting my food blog. I've really missed blogging but I've missed the community of bloggers even more. This is my shout-out from my felt pit (I use Eco-friendly felt to create my pillow covers). I'm still kicking and I've got a new recipe for you too! <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw0IoDrBREd_dgas93ALcaaw4dtCP5v0hXOH9IDtmMhfeshgkYFHi2iIAgnIM1VA2qjTKM7meD3z8vHKVpW_qyNIxgz8PT94rY9ibyj6940cengHFyNVTGYTi7bW9AAM54m8KPG7IausQ/s1600/IMG_1344.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="456" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw0IoDrBREd_dgas93ALcaaw4dtCP5v0hXOH9IDtmMhfeshgkYFHi2iIAgnIM1VA2qjTKM7meD3z8vHKVpW_qyNIxgz8PT94rY9ibyj6940cengHFyNVTGYTi7bW9AAM54m8KPG7IausQ/s640/IMG_1344.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>As you might know, eggs are not so friendly in our family. Two out of the five of us do respond kindly to them, so when it comes to baking, in particular, I'm always faced with de-egging sweet treats.<br />
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For years, fruit tart has been the Hubs birthday treat of choice- he's not a cake guy. Most fruit tarts have a sweet, custard-y filling that, of course, has eggs. So I found myself drawing inspiration from a friend, who made a lovely filling for a strawberry shortcake she made, which had yogurt and cream cheese.<br />
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It turned out beautifully! It was kinda like if a cheesecake and a fruit tart had a baby. I'm not a cheesecake kind of girl, but this is not as rich as a cheesecake. It's super fresh tasting and very satisfying...and a heck of a lot easier than making a custard.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgImvO9qUMcYSqF5qEYiKoAapds0b_iAGageb-1scYI3wmInVSlN7o-B-5GgN-WsDFIiQ3gNSjnZNx6PmHsguq316j3CWkvEPSA93MQyhXb1R7UOCMn_jqo1fok-kaL3UL7x_oHhXpaVFY/s1600/IMG_1347.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgImvO9qUMcYSqF5qEYiKoAapds0b_iAGageb-1scYI3wmInVSlN7o-B-5GgN-WsDFIiQ3gNSjnZNx6PmHsguq316j3CWkvEPSA93MQyhXb1R7UOCMn_jqo1fok-kaL3UL7x_oHhXpaVFY/s640/IMG_1347.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> Egg-free Fruit Tart</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">use your favorite pie crust recipe for a single crust...or use my <a href="http://foodiehouse.blogspot.com/2011/08/so-easy-cavegirl-could-do-it-plum-peach.html">favorite</a></div><div style="text-align: center;">press it into a 10" tart pan with a removable bottom, and blind bake</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Filling:</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">1 softened block of cream cheese</div><div style="text-align: center;">1 16oz. container Fage or similar Greek yogurt (I used full-fat)</div><div style="text-align: center;">1/4 cup powdered sugar (adjust to taste)</div><div style="text-align: center;">juice of 1/2 lemon</div><div style="text-align: center;">zest of 1 lemon</div><div style="text-align: center;">1 tsp. vanilla extract</div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Whip on high in your mixer for 3-5 minutes. Fill cooled crust (or stick your face in it). Top with 9 halved strawberries around the edge and fill center with a heaping mound of blueberries (about 1 cup). Chill at least one hour.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01147344578518296814noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-708271966633841892.post-79404877514718138672011-09-15T14:42:00.000-05:002011-09-15T14:42:31.990-05:00Pour Some Sugar on Me: Brined, Roasted and Honey-Glazed Chicken<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpA3c-dLqQQiuy8CW_cB2ZZwbqINTTLs__pUxJekVgbXB7iJ3BPV-E-sUFEnnGb0wgirLrcW3ebddKuZpp7O-OIVO_rWK9pbIuvg-r-F6Oo6dgHQuiIPZnzhMu2PvXP0C-XIDeug6amEo/s1600/IMG_6741-1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpA3c-dLqQQiuy8CW_cB2ZZwbqINTTLs__pUxJekVgbXB7iJ3BPV-E-sUFEnnGb0wgirLrcW3ebddKuZpp7O-OIVO_rWK9pbIuvg-r-F6Oo6dgHQuiIPZnzhMu2PvXP0C-XIDeug6amEo/s640/IMG_6741-1.JPG" width="640" /></a></div> <br />
I've been on a let's-brine-everything kick...okay, just meat. What a difference it makes! Come to think of it, I've really only been brining chicken, but for all different preparations: for grilled chicken, chicken nuggets and of course, this lovely, golden, sticky-skinned clucker.<br />
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My parents brought us back some lavender-infused honey from a little jaunt they took to a prairie lavender farm. The farmer infuses the honey from his property with the lavender that he farms. It's really, really delicious. I wanted to do something special with the honey and not just slap it on a slice of toast, so I felt my beautiful little birdy would be very happy to be bathed in such a carefully-crafted product.<br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;">Some little Pooh Bear delightfully interrupted my photo session with the "hunny pot".</div><br />
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Slightly random side note: I have fond memories of my mom making a whole fryer dance a jig in the kitchen sink just before she broke it down into fry-able pieces. I just thought that was the funniest thing ever and so cute. Hence, my admiration for poultry and finding it irresistibly adorable.<br />
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What I love about brining, is that with minimal effort, one can achieve a flavorful and tender roast chicken that rivals that of Costco's cheapy, six dollar, rotisserie chicken, which is pumped full of all sorts of things that I cannot pronounce. (They are nice, however, when you've the cooking inspiration of a hound dog on a hot summer day.)<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Lauren's Sticky Chicken</b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">1 3-4lb. whole chicken</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">6 quarts water</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">1/2 c. kosher salt</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">1 c. sugar</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">2 garlic cloves</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">2 jalapenos, halved</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">2-3 sprigs fresh rosemary</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">4-5 sprigs fresh thyme</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">2-3 tbsp. honey (lavender-infused or any kind you like)</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Mix water, sugar and salt until dissolved in a large pot - I used my giant stockpot. Crush or slice garlic and add with peppers. Add the chicken and let it refrigerate at least 8 hrs.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Remove chicken from brine. Thoroughly dry off skin with paper towels. Sprinkle lightly with salt. Stuff cavity with fresh rosemary and thyme and tie up the legs. Place on a roasting rack, breast-side up, and bake for 45 min. Baste with honey. Bake another 20 min. and baste with honey again.You will see how the honey turns the skin the most gorgeous amber color. Full baking time is around 1 1/2 hrs. Internal temp at thigh should be around 175-180 degrees. Let it rest a good ten minutes before carving.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"> And that my friends is how you make a delicious, flavorful (through and through) roast chicken. Leftovers can be made into sandwiches, or chicken salad or into a chicken soup. But the best part has to be that crispy, sticky skin.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Love Ya, Foodies. <b> </b></span></div>Laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01147344578518296814noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-708271966633841892.post-81864779852282635322011-09-01T09:46:00.000-05:002011-09-01T09:46:36.458-05:00Dork-a-licious: A BFF Reunion<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqj6zRszigmXlw7uAjATEt6rxtH0exSbSHqOjDKzqDbGUJITltnGosU9F3ulgPIwVdyEOIQqO4RX8WeC7_AHlM3lme_8awAV2aCO-nbJR97Lw2tbmGKU2OCKQ3v4goQIJKHaR3GDVZ42w/s1600/IMG_6330-1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqj6zRszigmXlw7uAjATEt6rxtH0exSbSHqOjDKzqDbGUJITltnGosU9F3ulgPIwVdyEOIQqO4RX8WeC7_AHlM3lme_8awAV2aCO-nbJR97Lw2tbmGKU2OCKQ3v4goQIJKHaR3GDVZ42w/s640/IMG_6330-1.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br />
Alright, people. I've been away gallivanting around with the likes of this fabulous person, Steph. Okay, that's not all I've been doing, but the Hubs and I did hang out the other night with her and her husband Adam. What a blast we had from the past...well, us girls anyway. They guys were left to watch football (which they did not complain about) while we cackled like wild chickens as we rooted through piles and piles of notes that Steph had saved from jr. high. Jr. high is where we were connected at the hip.<br />
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We found that not only did the notes that we passed to one another carry information, long since removed from our aged brains, but that they were full of drawings, redundant observations, bad spelling and the occassional pep talk, because, after all, jr. high is rough.<br />
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It has been 15 years since we last saw each other. I know it's cliche, but we picked right up like time had never passed. It was, from beginning to end, total delight.<br />
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Did I mention that she is a PHENOMENAL cook? Did I also mention we were total dorks?<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSxLdIgX_PM6n1W_8lPbYyTzDSUIleKRhLFdZBMKzZUmDLrehTpY87AjrxNJhZSvO1POixFT3xDjU0YoWXHmLcOwj0GJJceqZ0oMDNnPGacoB2Ap1Lt5dHZ6bwPNmCHHA0b6cfyzD5mpM/s1600/IMG_6335-1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSxLdIgX_PM6n1W_8lPbYyTzDSUIleKRhLFdZBMKzZUmDLrehTpY87AjrxNJhZSvO1POixFT3xDjU0YoWXHmLcOwj0GJJceqZ0oMDNnPGacoB2Ap1Lt5dHZ6bwPNmCHHA0b6cfyzD5mpM/s640/IMG_6335-1.JPG" width="426" /></a></div><br />
Probably didn't take you long to figure that one out, huh? I'll get to the cooking in just a minute, let me expound for a moment.<br />
<br />
We ROCKED the dork. I mean, we embraced our awkward ways, our clumsy ambitions, our fashion snafus and our love for all things drama/creative. We snorted when we giggled, we pretended to cook like Julia Child in my kitchen, we built forts out of mattresses, and we went to an all girls summer camp and tried to run with the big dawgs, but alas, it was futile. We were simply dork-a-licious.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg9uPP8YegzVG-p2pBAnR741NCiMurJ8GfcNa3nLRQyRIhyphenhyphenADRo0D9xeKRqjjK8GzZCFww7WnmRRJHYB7Th-u_pZfm-yaLcBpCh0HnO9bx3BkGJI7GsM247AaEsIsBRVTOD2d_i95_uu8/s1600/IMG_6339-1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg9uPP8YegzVG-p2pBAnR741NCiMurJ8GfcNa3nLRQyRIhyphenhyphenADRo0D9xeKRqjjK8GzZCFww7WnmRRJHYB7Th-u_pZfm-yaLcBpCh0HnO9bx3BkGJI7GsM247AaEsIsBRVTOD2d_i95_uu8/s640/IMG_6339-1.JPG" width="426" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">That was my worst haircut...ever. I still cringe at the thought. Steph looked really adorable. She had good bangs.</div><br />
So here we are now, years and years later, finding we still have so much in common, still a bit dorky but in the cutest of ways. We are slightly more refined and a little bit less awkward...okay, so it's pretty much the same, and I love it.<br />
<br />
Back to the dinner, Steph graciously invited us over for dinner. I asked what I could bring, she said some wine and some herbs from my garden. No problem. I made a dash to the liquor store and harvested some fresh parsley from the garden along with a few hot peppers and other tasty bits. I remember being extra careful to avoid the caterpillars for they like to hang out on the parsley.<br />
<br />
That evening, as Steph was stirring her duck risotto (sing-songy "awesome!!!"), letting the dog out the back door, sipping wine and carrying on a conversation (which was all quite effortless, for she caressed that risotto like she had done it a million times before, that is, if risotto can be caressed) I was in awe that here we were hanging out, only grown-up now, and it was simply surreal.<br />
<br />
I snapped back into reality, when she asked me to chop up some of the parsley I had brought. I carefully plucked each leaf and rinsed it well. I started chopping, all the while imbibing my chardonnay and carrying on, when I realized there were all these little yellow balls on the cutting board. I looked closer and there was a massacre of caterpillar mixed in with the weird yellow balls (which I am guessing were caterpillar eggs?) and the vibrant green of the parsley. I told Steph about the abuse on the cutting board and then another hilarious uproar ensued. Needless to say, I washed the board and started over. Caterpillar-free garnish was now on the menu.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmb6NmBaqwGw9ErVQgfPO4LC_4LzHO9qBmLA1AlCld0HW70Mc7FhhsYL3Io-817TC7uLrACUa4W2TV-izEMuqfUwUtQut-YCt7C8ko-KJGgl9Oj8MeiQJfMKqZkaxWqW8JLovKEhVBDcc/s1600/IMG_6314-1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmb6NmBaqwGw9ErVQgfPO4LC_4LzHO9qBmLA1AlCld0HW70Mc7FhhsYL3Io-817TC7uLrACUa4W2TV-izEMuqfUwUtQut-YCt7C8ko-KJGgl9Oj8MeiQJfMKqZkaxWqW8JLovKEhVBDcc/s640/IMG_6314-1.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>It really was as good as it looked. Scrumptious. I don't use the word "scrumptious" very often, so when I do it's for only the good stuff. The duck was the most perfect pink and the risotto was creamy and studded with bits of duck thigh and proscuitto! It was finished at the end with lemon zest and the fresh parsley. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE0GxFFogjetJV2vnr5MlehqAcZxZ5P7Nk1w_dgtINjUfl5bmj7HEmDmtASHKHWKO5Ys7JGnN5noXsBfVbqEGcZ5jgG6T82r9hQuteGZIDsEe9Y5oI-Ib817gBAuJG1hyphenhyphenJg6XWBlKq9pk/s1600/IMG_6318-1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE0GxFFogjetJV2vnr5MlehqAcZxZ5P7Nk1w_dgtINjUfl5bmj7HEmDmtASHKHWKO5Ys7JGnN5noXsBfVbqEGcZ5jgG6T82r9hQuteGZIDsEe9Y5oI-Ib817gBAuJG1hyphenhyphenJg6XWBlKq9pk/s640/IMG_6318-1.JPG" width="456" /></a></div>And then there was this...brace yourselves, raspberry sherbert. You may be thinking, "Um, Lauren, I love raspberry sherbert as much as the next guy, what's all the hullabaloo?"<br />
<br />
The most perfect balance of sweet, fruity and tangy creaminess that you can imagine. It was the best ending to a rich, sumptous meal. I went absolutely bonkers over this stuff and even more so after I found out the recipe.<br />
<br />
Are you ready? It has only four ingredients...really. AND no ice cream maker required!<br />
<br />
Steph's Raspberry Sherbert<br />
<br />
1 10 oz. bag of frozen raspberries, thawed and crushed with a fork<br />
scant 1/2 c. sugar<br />
1 c. light sour cream<br />
1 tsp. vanilla<br />
<br />
Mix well and freeze. Serves 4.<br />
<br />
In the words of Steph, which are so true and sweet:<br />
<br />
"When you are a teen, you write things like BFF, FF, Yours Always….And then 20 years goes by and your written promises are put to the test. Tonight I was lucky that despite more than 15 years of pause of “friend” in BFF, I know that the forever still stands.We may have missed a few romances, heart breaks, weddings, children, several states and other milestones, but the core of who we were, who we still are today will always bond us."<span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}"> </span><br />
<br />
<span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">P.S. Never judge a worm by his bottom. (this p.s. was quoted from one of the notes I sent to Steph. I've got no explanation, people. Steph just said I was "creative". Sounds good to me.)</span><br />
<br />
Well, I leave you with that, dear friends.<br />
<br />
Love Ya, Foodies.<br />
<br />
Laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01147344578518296814noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-708271966633841892.post-50108000567193509232011-08-11T08:43:00.000-05:002011-08-11T08:43:34.256-05:00Oh, My Peas! Tasty and Entertaining Purple Hull Peas<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsGv1LDMN7XCUm_HObDmg3_KNT5PiwE7x7sYEjmBTTVoIU1ghDWLquV-KFSMERKQXCW5K6g3KRCqN1DxeW9vyYq2esqu9c1ZuTkJ5-jQFKp7w7uQgH4gFamPx6f2CRcMfKxXt7kQx9ENM/s1600/IMG_5407-1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsGv1LDMN7XCUm_HObDmg3_KNT5PiwE7x7sYEjmBTTVoIU1ghDWLquV-KFSMERKQXCW5K6g3KRCqN1DxeW9vyYq2esqu9c1ZuTkJ5-jQFKp7w7uQgH4gFamPx6f2CRcMfKxXt7kQx9ENM/s640/IMG_5407-1.JPG" width="426" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> Boo greedily hoarding her stash of the peas.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I found something new for my kids to play with. Doesn't cost me much and after they are done playing, we can eat it. That toy is purple hull peas.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Now, don't start calling me a hippie just yet, I'm not sporting patchouli or letting the pit-hairs grow, I'm just saying that I loved the fact that my kids were entertained by these peas for 45 minutes. No T.V., no whining, just a few minor fights over who gets more, which is a given.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxKCbfFYXBtj30tS9sshn-suqHYoNP3Sd0FHZtl38YnsHDT4dbzLEdJrTgzanKJM5vXuF0PrMEJqkgm5FKDzmk56Ww48pI7YIanlR5DTzCYGHfIPb9sjEOmfEMR9tPxNXaZzCO9SWlQBQ/s1600/IMG_5262-1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="458" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxKCbfFYXBtj30tS9sshn-suqHYoNP3Sd0FHZtl38YnsHDT4dbzLEdJrTgzanKJM5vXuF0PrMEJqkgm5FKDzmk56Ww48pI7YIanlR5DTzCYGHfIPb9sjEOmfEMR9tPxNXaZzCO9SWlQBQ/s640/IMG_5262-1.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br />
I could not pass up these peas at our local farmer's market last week. I could however, used a bit more input from the purveyors of these fine peas.<br />
<br />
Me: Wow! These are amazing. I'll take one box. How do you cook these? I've never done it.<br />
<br />
Seller: (young guy, wearing an unusually distracting fedora on his head, which was covered in all sorts of buttons with crude sayings) Um...(glances over to older, most-likely grandfather, who mumbles something and looked like he forgot his dentures that morning) I guess, just cook 'em like any other pea.<br />
<br />
Me: (suddenly extremely enlightened and constantly resisting the urge to read his stupid hat buttons) Oh. Okay.<br />
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Then he sold me some crappy peaches. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw5vKi0flzbBX5ewdk-eYiIMvIY6NhXDutPz6hLMeA4kPXMS62cG3QpCmyIW9J27ea8oBZtHJPeXvoj-ooTWCrsAei-O72lmJMy2eTY1II8MsyNapoOehtNtovmmHxnewIbG_mgr8cHrQ/s1600/IMG_5328-1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw5vKi0flzbBX5ewdk-eYiIMvIY6NhXDutPz6hLMeA4kPXMS62cG3QpCmyIW9J27ea8oBZtHJPeXvoj-ooTWCrsAei-O72lmJMy2eTY1II8MsyNapoOehtNtovmmHxnewIbG_mgr8cHrQ/s640/IMG_5328-1.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br />
So without being more informed on the cooking of these gorgeous peas than I was when I walked into that market I decided the best bet was to add bacon and onions. That's good with just about any vegetable.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDVitopFqMuID0LN7zK3BP7qQGajuEffxK34kVZzDfLCE09r7LomJ5l9IlUf9fE3kjAcK4jESdrzlv_dVNE0hgJOfzbAjj6Pc8pVekifILMIbImglbZDJp4EHYRMwi71ZUF-oEHMyS2is/s1600/IMG_5371-1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDVitopFqMuID0LN7zK3BP7qQGajuEffxK34kVZzDfLCE09r7LomJ5l9IlUf9fE3kjAcK4jESdrzlv_dVNE0hgJOfzbAjj6Pc8pVekifILMIbImglbZDJp4EHYRMwi71ZUF-oEHMyS2is/s640/IMG_5371-1.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">So that's what I did.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg-mIiarEfMo8J_ZME__YJ_wXHalxtYYnpPxfZDqjR72UpZVmfvt5Lkx6s-NOdxwX6Mo-jdk3n9L8Q65DKFkfQXL8bKjbaStbbx11Ru1Rq1kLLaYx4e2QZFmjqSWol2rrybPPfCT9wtYc/s1600/IMG_5482-1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg-mIiarEfMo8J_ZME__YJ_wXHalxtYYnpPxfZDqjR72UpZVmfvt5Lkx6s-NOdxwX6Mo-jdk3n9L8Q65DKFkfQXL8bKjbaStbbx11Ru1Rq1kLLaYx4e2QZFmjqSWol2rrybPPfCT9wtYc/s640/IMG_5482-1.JPG" width="426" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Tiny with his stash. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1OEb2qpGgxlffgzH62ZNybQNdBKfFSHWgHUTfVQ2qf9ppBJlkWdySDd-H_PsFR80i82pyy_KYg9Of4NUuHMUGA7wA2Z6akDSJYw0U-rHknuTjGYrFL3riVVlI6CpiwWTJmbnUD4tvp6w/s1600/IMG_5527-1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1OEb2qpGgxlffgzH62ZNybQNdBKfFSHWgHUTfVQ2qf9ppBJlkWdySDd-H_PsFR80i82pyy_KYg9Of4NUuHMUGA7wA2Z6akDSJYw0U-rHknuTjGYrFL3riVVlI6CpiwWTJmbnUD4tvp6w/s640/IMG_5527-1.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br />
They turned out really, really good. I couldn't stop eating them. I even got the kids to eat <strike>them</strike> one. Well, at least it's a start.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Purple Hull Peas with Bacon and Onion</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">2 slices bacon, diced</div><div style="text-align: center;">1/2 sweet onion, diced</div><div style="text-align: center;">(sorta guessing here) 1-1 1/2 cups shelled purple hull peas</div><div style="text-align: center;">1/2 cup water</div><div style="text-align: center;">Salt and pepper</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Brown bacon until nearly crispy, add onion and cook until nice and brown. Add peas and water. Cover and let steam until tender, about 10 minutes. Remove cover and let moisture cook off and peas get a little browned. Season to taste.</div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Love ya, Foodies!</span></div><br />
<br />
<br />
Laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01147344578518296814noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-708271966633841892.post-6528905757525064092011-08-02T20:43:00.001-05:002011-08-08T19:19:12.423-05:00So Easy A Cavegirl Could Do It: Plum Peach Crostata<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir-LiR_cNxLa_4igmFDjNEBxIVszAC1Xe-MBeowpXPJkZ8mxTexG1pakfsbiVERwC5Gn6syPd1YUiBdOewAXWxm_lQbQDY0wqKd2sS6RIzMqyRvI4FEHRqpdFEEbJ5FHa1J-RfEJbYNfo/s1600/IMG_5052-1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="456" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir-LiR_cNxLa_4igmFDjNEBxIVszAC1Xe-MBeowpXPJkZ8mxTexG1pakfsbiVERwC5Gn6syPd1YUiBdOewAXWxm_lQbQDY0wqKd2sS6RIzMqyRvI4FEHRqpdFEEbJ5FHa1J-RfEJbYNfo/s640/IMG_5052-1.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br />
Me Cavegirl. Me bake crostata. Me no like fussy desserts like this <a href="http://foodiehouse.blogspot.com/2010/10/pfb-challenge-4-tiny-hell-cakes.html">one</a>. Me sounding like Cookie Monster.<br />
<br />
Alright, that was pretty stupid.<br />
<br />
This crostata, however, is not. It's brilliant! Simple, flaky, buttery, sweet, juicy, tart, fresh and seasonal. All Cookie Monster eats is cardboard, fake cookies.<br />
<br />
The cavegirl part of this recipe is the flagrant ignoring of rough pie crust edges, lumpy fruit chunks and a complete disregard for a top crust. A cavegirl would never know to trim edges or daintily cut precision wedges of fruit. Heck, she would most likely use her hairy forearms to roll out the crust and use a shard of wild boar's jaw to hack away at her prehistoric fruit.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP8Rdw4OfkkgCfXtyXdSqARUiwFhFCFP3FfOEy3nanVfu4lITc0ZntmujVGnG7GI_i5u0r1HpQZOtpOb63d-otT5oqjBz10SPDkaM7mtJpvzPHcb92GspPQqsAXyaBAuQ_htx85WFi6qg/s1600/IMG_5019-1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP8Rdw4OfkkgCfXtyXdSqARUiwFhFCFP3FfOEy3nanVfu4lITc0ZntmujVGnG7GI_i5u0r1HpQZOtpOb63d-otT5oqjBz10SPDkaM7mtJpvzPHcb92GspPQqsAXyaBAuQ_htx85WFi6qg/s640/IMG_5019-1.JPG" width="426" /></a></div><br />
But in the age of Martha and Ina, we try just a bit harder to make rustic look chic. (And keep our much shorter and lighter arm hairs out of the crust.)<br />
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The fruit is what inspired this rustic pie. If you don't have good fruit, it won't fly. It's fifty percent of the dessert. That's the thing with simple recipes- if your ingredients aren't quality it really shows. So get some good fruit.<br />
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It doesn't really matter the type of fruit you choose. I've made this recipe with all berries, just pears, or just peaches. Come to think of it, I've never made it with apples. My guess is that you would have to slice the apples thinly or else they won't get soft in the baking time allotted. But I've have luck with just about every fruit I've tried. You've got a pretty high success rate goin' on here folks. Give it a shot. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeRKJDQnpQTFijEn7ASdCoAzKB9HK4LMxTO75N6CvzIy-BGk_DATgU4iAp1YJQfHqIemm-9-f963ibRsVZ5d-y-70GIRg_GLSMl6s4vWqMnojslkPmjPscl7My0UlbNHtXI1_VjwLIbgM/s1600/IMG_5041-1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeRKJDQnpQTFijEn7ASdCoAzKB9HK4LMxTO75N6CvzIy-BGk_DATgU4iAp1YJQfHqIemm-9-f963ibRsVZ5d-y-70GIRg_GLSMl6s4vWqMnojslkPmjPscl7My0UlbNHtXI1_VjwLIbgM/s640/IMG_5041-1.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br />
This bakes at a very high temperature (450 degrees) and bakes quickly. So much faster than the traditional pie...another reason I love it so. The quicker to bake, the quicker I get to eat it.<br />
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So don your best Pebbles (or Bam Bam) attire and get to work on this pie.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj7Zx6XDjnk2Y7jtB0YXibfMO5FMifZmHYR10IpbQasKq6u06yPwhKbuP0Ilzp2WJpyHeVXKSmqOv89WrPADdQdnRxTP42T1H1y2ndOT6iFNWYxyaqGJFHIuRpOd-l7u9-0sEkWQ3Pty4/s1600/IMG_5044-1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj7Zx6XDjnk2Y7jtB0YXibfMO5FMifZmHYR10IpbQasKq6u06yPwhKbuP0Ilzp2WJpyHeVXKSmqOv89WrPADdQdnRxTP42T1H1y2ndOT6iFNWYxyaqGJFHIuRpOd-l7u9-0sEkWQ3Pty4/s640/IMG_5044-1.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Plum Peach Crostata</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
the recipe for the crust makes enough for two crostatas (I throw one in the freezer so I have it available when a craving hits!)</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Adapted from Ina Garten's recipe (best one I've come across)</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">2 cups A.P. flour</div><div style="text-align: center;">1/4 cup sugar</div><div style="text-align: center;">1/2 tsp. kosher salt</div><div style="text-align: center;">2 sticks cold, cubed butter</div><div style="text-align: center;">6 tbsp. ice water</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">For the filling: (my recipe)</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">3 very ripe and juicy plums, quartered</div><div style="text-align: center;">2 ripe and juicy peaches, cut into sixths</div><div style="text-align: center;">1 tbsp. sugar</div><div style="text-align: center;">1 tbsp. flour</div><div style="text-align: center;">couple extra, generous sprinklings of sugar for the top</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">To prepare the crust, Ina suggests putting in a food processor. I don't really roll like that, but if you do she says to pulse the dry ingredients together, add butter, pulse 12-15 times until it's the size of peas. With the motor running add all the water at once, then pulse until it almost comes into a ball. Take it out, cut into 2 halves and wrap in plastic wrap. Chill one for at least an hour and the other goes into the freezer.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I personally like to do the above by hand. I mix the dry ingredients together and dump in the cold butter (for my method, it's still a bit frozen...works great against warm hands melting it too fast.). I simply break the butter apart between my fingertips (only) and work it quickly into the dry mixture. Once it's the size of peas, I add the ice water, but in parts. Half and then slowly add the rest. Sometimes I use all of it sometimes I don't. When it comes together easily I gently and quickly knead it together and cut it in half. Wrap and store.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Filling:</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Couldn't be easier. Mix the sliced fruit with the sugar and flour. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Preheat oven 450 degrees. Line pan with parchment paper.</div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;">Roll out your chilled dough into an 11" circle on a lightly floured surface. Place fruit in the center of dough with a 1 1/2 " border. Gently fold the border up over the fruit creating an edge. Generously sprinkle sugar over the top of the fruit and edge of crust.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Bake 20-25 minutes until the crust is golden. Let it cool 5-10 minutes, then using two spatulas transfer it to a wire rack or serving plate.</div><br />
It's really good served with vanilla ice cream or just simply by itself. So, so good.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"> Love Ya, Foodies.</span>Laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01147344578518296814noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-708271966633841892.post-3220189429728614792011-07-25T20:19:00.002-05:002011-08-02T18:17:03.529-05:00Don't Turn on Your Ovens! Ice Cream Cake to the Rescue!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivJq_1E6Xky933bQhp5rqhK8bAnQo5Uq5Wvby2iDnN3_GbGI3JzpoT6PmShuEnnCYSMw5Ex_umayTt7YxksLtqPQpioGWS2Pn3uRNNlnjPRaS2Uw1EPXRipiZSuiJMsEvI0jhgcFjeGcM/s1600/IMG_4417-1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivJq_1E6Xky933bQhp5rqhK8bAnQo5Uq5Wvby2iDnN3_GbGI3JzpoT6PmShuEnnCYSMw5Ex_umayTt7YxksLtqPQpioGWS2Pn3uRNNlnjPRaS2Uw1EPXRipiZSuiJMsEvI0jhgcFjeGcM/s640/IMG_4417-1.JPG" width="640" /></a></div> I'm pretty sure it's hot everywhere right now, and I'm pretty sure there are tons of us home cooks wishing we could make what we love to make without sweating through our aprons, donning extra coats of deodorant and rockin' headbands just to make it through dinner. <br />
<br />
So we don't cook.<br />
<br />
We say to our family, "It's sandwiches again tonight, kids." (To which, my kids anyways, start celebrating that I'm not forcing grilled zucchini salad and salmon cakes down their throats.- They just don't like it <i>yet</i>.)<br />
<br />
Or we make giant salads or eat bowls of salsa and chips and call it dinner. Growing up, BLT's were the hot weather meal of choice.<br />
<br />
So when it comes to baking in the summer, it's really tough. It feels like the oven is burping out copious amounts of hot-air balloon quality air and it's chapping my face! Slight exaggeration, but seriously, I do not enjoying doing loads of dishes in Sahara-like temperatures while dusty balls of camel hair roll past my feet. Okay, yet another <i>slight</i> exaggeration.<br />
<br />
My little Tiny just turned two and I wanted something fun and festive for his cake. Cupcakes are overdone and tedious. I wanted something I could slap together and forget about, and preferably NOT use the oven.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg843NyowIP_0VWCmFmLA-oPaCpI-k9LI6W9mXUX9TC2lwz91VbGhRYhNiI0i8RzKzAsvEFNW42gJnx5VDS8b4iEkQmD1_Wdcn2TQmlcclfQ7pRiwouxj25BMjDlYWV1omoF3X17aQFOqI/s1600/IMG_4376-1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg843NyowIP_0VWCmFmLA-oPaCpI-k9LI6W9mXUX9TC2lwz91VbGhRYhNiI0i8RzKzAsvEFNW42gJnx5VDS8b4iEkQmD1_Wdcn2TQmlcclfQ7pRiwouxj25BMjDlYWV1omoF3X17aQFOqI/s640/IMG_4376-1.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> So I made this!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div>I had made this recipe some years ago, loved it and then forgot about it. It re-emerged like flotsam on the high seas of this brain of mine and I quickly decided this would be the BEST recipe for his birthday party. And it did turn out pretty great. I did, however, forget one little thing...his party was outside in 96 degree heat. All I can say is that we ate it pretty fast and licked our plates clean.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYhWCs2nz0oeKZ3KDuWhvokKfUjlrLjJfji0AUOf_xl9KanfP6CFDMmSrFbhH0BqxmgieA_HcDsTA3iANpAQ35NwqrURBEw1KFPXhnDg-buVx3uU6O9fhq-U0FHHzgOzSdI9pXD4O5wrI/s1600/IMG_4366-1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYhWCs2nz0oeKZ3KDuWhvokKfUjlrLjJfji0AUOf_xl9KanfP6CFDMmSrFbhH0BqxmgieA_HcDsTA3iANpAQ35NwqrURBEw1KFPXhnDg-buVx3uU6O9fhq-U0FHHzgOzSdI9pXD4O5wrI/s640/IMG_4366-1.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> My favorite part of this cake is the outside ring of quartered ice cream sandwiches! It's such a stunning presentation. It looks complex but couldn't be easier.</div> <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS3yO9ROUmZqAW8RRDYYuUbqVXZOcY783o52HvpMLrzVKewh3fIyNOneeurGeBr5x32DvjjPKpL32ykzj9rqDAvE34ACQkcMP3uo-CtVpG1Ce7dWKznuf1y7DEPqoKOsc3cgCIeIyCgw8/s1600/IMG_4378-1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS3yO9ROUmZqAW8RRDYYuUbqVXZOcY783o52HvpMLrzVKewh3fIyNOneeurGeBr5x32DvjjPKpL32ykzj9rqDAvE34ACQkcMP3uo-CtVpG1Ce7dWKznuf1y7DEPqoKOsc3cgCIeIyCgw8/s640/IMG_4378-1.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b> Layered Ice Cream Cake</b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;">Adapted from Family Circle Magazine's recipe</div><br />
<br />
<span class="seealllink"><a class="recipe_link" href="http://www.recipe.com/search/?searchType=partnerRecipes#partner_1900002=true"></a><span class="seeallicon"></span></span> <br />
<div class="ACThead6">Ingredients</div><ul><li class="gs_ingredient"> <div class="gs_item_row"><div class="floatleft ingredient">15 Oreos ( I used about 5-6 more because I didn't feel the crust was thick enough) </div></div></li>
<li class="gs_ingredient gs_clickable"> <div class="gs_item_row"><div class="floatleft ingredient">1 tablespoon milk (I added and extra tbsp for the extra Oreos) </div></div></li>
<li class="gs_ingredient"> <div class="gs_item_row"><div class="floatleft ingredient">8 to 9 ice cream sandwiches, depending on size </div></div></li>
<li class="gs_ingredient"> <div class="gs_item_row"><div class="floatleft ingredient">1 pint mint chocolate chip ice cream </div></div></li>
<li class="gs_ingredient"> <div class="gs_item_row"><div class="floatleft ingredient">1 pint vanilla frozen yogurt (I used ice cream)</div></div></li>
<li class="gs_ingredient"> <div class="gs_item_row"><div class="floatleft ingredient">1 pint strawberry ice cream or frozen yogurt </div></div></li>
</ul><div class="ACThead6">Directions</div><span class="instructions"> </span><br />
<div class="step"><div class="stepbystepInstruction"><span class="instructions">Coat bottom and side of a 9-inch round springform pan with nonstick cooking spray. Line side with waxed paper, using spray to help adhere to pan. Trim paper to height of pan. </span></div></div><div class="step"></div><div class="step"><div class="stepbystepInstruction"><span class="instructions">Finely crush 12 of the cookies (this is where I added the extras) in a food processor. Add milk; pulse just until mixture holds together. Set aside. </span></div></div><div class="step"><div class="stepbystep"><span class="instructions"><br />
</span></div><div class="stepbystepInstruction"><span class="instructions">Unwrap 4 ice cream sandwiches. Working quickly, cut each in quarters. Stack strips of sandwiches on end, packing them snugly together, around waxed-paper-lined pan. Repeat with remaining sandwiches to form a stand-up edge. Spoon cookie crumbs into center of pan; press firmly over bottom. Freeze 1 hour. </span></div></div><div class="step"><div class="stepbystep"><span class="instructions"><br />
</span></div><div class="step"><span class="instructions">Remove all 3 flavors of ice cream or frozen yogurt from freezer and let soften for 15 minutes at room temperature. Transfer mint ice cream to a small bowl and stir until good but firm spreading consistency. Repeat with vanilla and strawberry. Remove pan from freezer. Spread mint ice cream on bottom, then top with vanilla and strawberry, spreading all layers level. </span><br />
<div class="stepbystepInstruction"></div></div><div class="step"><div class="stepbystepInstruction"><span class="instructions">I used my off-set spatula to create a pattern on the top of the cake. The original recipe called for Cool Whip on top, but I don't like that stuff so I skipped it. I then broke the extra Oreos in half and stuck them in around the edge for a nice finished look.</span></div><div class="stepbystepInstruction"></div><div class="stepbystepInstruction"><span class="instructions">To serve, remove side of pan, then waxed paper. Cut into wedges. It works well to use a sharp knife and dip it in hot water before you cut.</span></div><div class="stepbystepInstruction"><span class="instructions"><br />
</span></div><span class="instructions">P.S. I was able to find all the ice creams without egg (unfortunately they were not "high end" brands like a luscious Hagen Daz or something like that, but I was just happy I didn't have to make the ice cream!!!) so everyone was happy. </span></div></div><br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAgWJhNrX0Vde-bkbmfg8qLMeKdkPe7jdgNoZ6QKDp4EWNCFNvNZfUKRUjuWVUPOkRiEb9vAkfbVA3ZVDPVSwhAEjB829S21VgbVP7TNQ5nsD73j1sED0jBdssVWkCcN1Y4MmE8zI-fAM/s1600/IMG_4522-1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAgWJhNrX0Vde-bkbmfg8qLMeKdkPe7jdgNoZ6QKDp4EWNCFNvNZfUKRUjuWVUPOkRiEb9vAkfbVA3ZVDPVSwhAEjB829S21VgbVP7TNQ5nsD73j1sED0jBdssVWkCcN1Y4MmE8zI-fAM/s640/IMG_4522-1.JPG" width="426" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Is that a cherub hovering over that cake? Yes, yes it is.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWZykBQTE9F0FdqC3IhmVT3-E1aKdXBgUvI0o__a7x4wcfwKhxiWuGDo-MaptsasLVt_8mg0LTNC2FvQalgCQiWPx_ie8a9kE4ubgQAGP11FvBHA5WlIzIomsZ2U_Xrmr4kDVc4VZOw28/s1600/IMG_4538-1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWZykBQTE9F0FdqC3IhmVT3-E1aKdXBgUvI0o__a7x4wcfwKhxiWuGDo-MaptsasLVt_8mg0LTNC2FvQalgCQiWPx_ie8a9kE4ubgQAGP11FvBHA5WlIzIomsZ2U_Xrmr4kDVc4VZOw28/s640/IMG_4538-1.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Told ya it was hot.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCSXWbZz_HnDYve6ZkyBaER3mhuVk16fQL46Ry9mLGx82DRE_Tm5OqLU4UXDe_l5OelQ15mGdCQxrZ-0BSxmERMPJB_XULzhlp55OhT81nlQNTMbR-CnkHIHEhYVN1d7i77SzPyZpmFJE/s1600/IMG_4547-1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCSXWbZz_HnDYve6ZkyBaER3mhuVk16fQL46Ry9mLGx82DRE_Tm5OqLU4UXDe_l5OelQ15mGdCQxrZ-0BSxmERMPJB_XULzhlp55OhT81nlQNTMbR-CnkHIHEhYVN1d7i77SzPyZpmFJE/s640/IMG_4547-1.JPG" width="426" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">That pretty much sums it up. </div><br />
Its such a great party dessert. I hope this get you out of your hot kitchen and your face into some ice cream!<br />
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Love ya, Foodies!Laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01147344578518296814noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-708271966633841892.post-19373309786873728552011-07-19T20:26:00.003-05:002011-08-02T18:23:35.345-05:00Ode to Pregger Jeans<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFk8OW04_5l4d6GFOL0AQPoEOg3ZtwFPX627ezg3mSFZuT9rf5VJ0nyxTX5i3abFR_z-HFnBH7Ze-coE8VNBuMyWtV2aV026tpB78QXkZXa6rNeNL_aFQRTne_OtA1aPNmmSiAaBqio68/s1600/Pregger+Pants%2521-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFk8OW04_5l4d6GFOL0AQPoEOg3ZtwFPX627ezg3mSFZuT9rf5VJ0nyxTX5i3abFR_z-HFnBH7Ze-coE8VNBuMyWtV2aV026tpB78QXkZXa6rNeNL_aFQRTne_OtA1aPNmmSiAaBqio68/s640/Pregger+Pants%2521-1.jpg" width="492" /></a></div><br />
<br />
I had a moment this morning...with my maternity jeans. I am not pregnant, but I put them on and did a dance.<br />
<br />
No, really. I did.<br />
<br />
I danced in my maternity jeans, with the stretchy panel pulled up to my bosom and shook it like a Polaroid picture. It was organic, spontaneous and stupid. I thoroughly enjoyed it. Here's to gushing over a pair of pants that I wore for moment in history and who didn't judge my rolls.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2vlHoODaEVsuP2v85DrU34DfL5kL5qiIcnfgfuaHJQlpe1DzI1hKxAWWNk1d5pv9iJMs3k-jAlMMyybzCaHxJwE92V5EFzbxsccqW-F8vbiGYC7fFiN2f1tl5w5n4zFjwnzPA2PYcblU/s1600/6095_1196111540911_1172134098_30580394_7150241_n-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2vlHoODaEVsuP2v85DrU34DfL5kL5qiIcnfgfuaHJQlpe1DzI1hKxAWWNk1d5pv9iJMs3k-jAlMMyybzCaHxJwE92V5EFzbxsccqW-F8vbiGYC7fFiN2f1tl5w5n4zFjwnzPA2PYcblU/s400/6095_1196111540911_1172134098_30580394_7150241_n-1.jpg" width="267" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Me in 2009, 21 weeks pregnant and workin' the pregger jeans.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Ode to Pregger Jeans</b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Oh, Pregger Jeans, how I adore you.</div><div style="text-align: center;">How I miss your stretchy front panel</div><div style="text-align: center;">Coddling my once bulbous belly.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">How I daydream of the days we spent together.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Growing a baby and ingesting horrific culinary combos.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Raisin bran and chicken curry, grapefruit and Oreos.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Unheard of amounts of peanut butter and protein bars</div><div style="text-align: center;">Did I ingest.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Digest.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Oh, the indigestion that occurred. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Lonely are the days I don't wear you.</div><div style="text-align: center;">How my shrunken belly misses your kind caress.</div><div style="text-align: center;">It's been an cruel two years of conventional jeans. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">You never pinched or prodded like your evil twin Regular Jeans.</div><div style="text-align: center;">No ugly indentations on my stomach like "button dent" or "waist ripple".</div><div style="text-align: center;">No muffin tops or bagel bulge to declare. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Only you know how to keep my belly smooth and unwrinkled.</div><div style="text-align: center;">My friends make fun of me, but I don't care.</div><div style="text-align: center;">I'll declare my love for you, Pregger Jeans!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Most women voice their disdain for you.</div><div style="text-align: center;">They hate the vast wind sail you create across their bellies.</div><div style="text-align: center;">But I embraced you.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I secretly wish to wear them everyday.</div><div style="text-align: center;">But now that it is no longer a secret,</div><div style="text-align: center;">I will shout my love for you from a rooftop or tabletop, whichever is nearer.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">There is no judging when I wear you.</div><div style="text-align: center;">No applied pressure to my wobbly bits.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Just a stretchy, Spandex-woven tent of acceptance.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Your job was never to conceal or constrict.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Squeeze or contour. </div><div style="text-align: center;">Just to hug and love,</div><div style="text-align: center;">My belly of baby.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Though there's no baby there now,</div><div style="text-align: center;">You still managed to call to me from your perch on high (the closet shelf),</div><div style="text-align: center;">"Once last dance?" you shyly asked.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I put you on for a quick reunion,</div><div style="text-align: center;">Spontaneous and jubilant it was,</div><div style="text-align: center;">Ridiculous and rare.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;">I danced and sang the words, "I love my pregger pants!"</div><div style="text-align: center;">I swiveled my hips and awkwardly lunged in abandonment.</div><div style="text-align: center;">No fears of ripping the seams or cutting my waist in two.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Wild and free was I.</div><div style="text-align: center;">All to you, comfy, non-judgmental pants.</div><div style="text-align: center;">All to you.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">But sadly, now is time to put you away,</div><div style="text-align: center;">Into the Spacebag you go.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Until the time comes to wear you again,</div><div style="text-align: center;">Hopefully with a child in tow.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">Love ya, Foodies!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>P.S.</b> My four year-old son took the flashy/bad jean advertisement pictures for me. Poor child. I was laughing my butt off, as I realized the absurdity of a four year old child with a camera, hunkered down in the corner of a room taking photos of his crazy mother dancing in some stupid pants. All I can say is that my kids are not going to have the usual childhood memories of eating dirt and dancing in the rain. They will have those plus their mother doing the maternity pants can-can. </div>Laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01147344578518296814noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-708271966633841892.post-51393346222025892132011-07-16T20:20:00.002-05:002011-08-02T18:25:03.083-05:00Best Egg-Free Chocolate Chip Cookie EVER...really<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXfHpM8D6pljTYYBRcqkx1LqQJ4w2_CRagzCVj1MRSQ24Urt_eRnybJ4JQeX5ikF85EsWSB7_-8F1QIIHwKbrc2kIM3TKwS6OBAvkMu38RnWusZBBL-H6WI3zAAS-lVNmyxLwssWb8hKY/s1600/IMG_4399-3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="456" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXfHpM8D6pljTYYBRcqkx1LqQJ4w2_CRagzCVj1MRSQ24Urt_eRnybJ4JQeX5ikF85EsWSB7_-8F1QIIHwKbrc2kIM3TKwS6OBAvkMu38RnWusZBBL-H6WI3zAAS-lVNmyxLwssWb8hKY/s640/IMG_4399-3.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>Chocolate chip cookies are a good recipe to have up your sleeve. You never know when a C.C.C.E. (that's Chocolate Chip Cookie Emergency, for the lay person), may hit. I've got the rundown for you on what qualifies as a C.C.C.E.<br />
<br />
1. PMS<br />
2. Peace offering to the Hubs for spending too much at the craft store.<br />
3. Bribing children to eat their food.<br />
4. A counter-productive reward for doing lunges.<br />
5. A tasty replacement for a frisbee (when and if a frisbee replacement was ever an emergency).<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRFPNgkN1Fslf8cH381xO26f27vtHTqWqz3AGuISiNCRBb8nb5mw-ZXTxhi8nuSWp9MpRsOcp5f2QqP22l8BdLUi4NsHXfpfgwj0IR42PUYMPIxqlVraW5_SndhNDrn3yZ44oI5FagU7E/s1600/IMG_4403-1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRFPNgkN1Fslf8cH381xO26f27vtHTqWqz3AGuISiNCRBb8nb5mw-ZXTxhi8nuSWp9MpRsOcp5f2QqP22l8BdLUi4NsHXfpfgwj0IR42PUYMPIxqlVraW5_SndhNDrn3yZ44oI5FagU7E/s640/IMG_4403-1.JPG" width="456" /></a></div><br />
So there are a couple special things about this cookie. It's a riff on the famous Nieman Marcus cookie...the real one. Not the one that floated around in forwarded emails in the mid-nineties. Not the one that requires you to blend oatmeal and grate chocolate. Unfortunately, I made my fair share of the faux cookie during my time working in a coffee shop, hence the shabby knuckles. This is far more simple.<br />
<br />
Also, this is an egg-free cookie, not originally, but I made it so. Not vegan, but you could easily make it vegan by replacing the butter with shortening. I think it would work fine, but don't quote me on it. I'm merely guessing. But yes, no eggs! I'll share my secret weapon with you.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-tE9Th8zTtyqdGzjuYm5VpOZIDMIN_Zr_CDpY7MvbrNltGSPuB5OA7zbvyU9VTbtYrdC9oIlAG0Dpb7wNgQxwKiNq6XiZmYRMiFQ881E-BqwN1-PrPuLuVPmM0cPCiTITn8zcX4HvOiM/s1600/IMG_1306-1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-tE9Th8zTtyqdGzjuYm5VpOZIDMIN_Zr_CDpY7MvbrNltGSPuB5OA7zbvyU9VTbtYrdC9oIlAG0Dpb7wNgQxwKiNq6XiZmYRMiFQ881E-BqwN1-PrPuLuVPmM0cPCiTITn8zcX4HvOiM/s640/IMG_1306-1.JPG" width="401" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Ener-G-Egg-Replacer-16-454/dp/B000QSS2C4/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1310784384&sr=8-1">Ener-G Egg Replacer!</a> This stuff is so awesome...even if this picture is not. LAME-O. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">This has worked beautifully in many baked items I've made, other things not so much. I tried it once in homemade pudding...horrible. Tasted like paste. If you are using it in a heavier baked good, such as a chocolate loaf or pound cake, it may not rise properly. But for cookies, it rocks! It's mainly potato starch and it creates a crisp exterior that eggs simply cannot achieve.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">When we found out my son had an egg allergy, I immediately started crossing off the list all the things I thought he couldn't have. But this egg replacer has been such a help. I make all my baked goods egg-free now and he can enjoy them with everyone else. It's also great to use in baked items that you are giving to babies or toddlers if you are wary they may be allergic to eggs. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqdMjwLyRFo4dVlbhqwGePb0bYDFIhi4IaGiypNuI1HRSQu-Kpp157PPqP4u-YfBEtyo6q46os0kp7Z6D4n3rECEPGiWhO6NMWzC2OvjqoKseKsONLZtAT68X6A2w_S35FpQmWFJeoLSs/s1600/IMG_4393-1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="456" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqdMjwLyRFo4dVlbhqwGePb0bYDFIhi4IaGiypNuI1HRSQu-Kpp157PPqP4u-YfBEtyo6q46os0kp7Z6D4n3rECEPGiWhO6NMWzC2OvjqoKseKsONLZtAT68X6A2w_S35FpQmWFJeoLSs/s640/IMG_4393-1.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Foodie House Version</b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b> of</b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b> Nieman Marcus Chocolate Chip Cookie Recipe</b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
I'm going to give you the double batch recipe. This makes 16 giant cookies or 30 something smaller ones.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">2 sticks soften butter (or one cup veggie shortening, for vegans)</div><div style="text-align: center;">2 cups brown sugar</div><div style="text-align: center;">6 tbsp. granulated sugar</div><div style="text-align: center;">1 tbsp. Ener-G Egg Replacer PLUS 5 tbsp. water, mix well (this is more water than what the box would tell you. Also, if you are not making this egg-free, this is where you would put 2 eggs)</div><div style="text-align: center;">4 tsp. vanilla extract</div><div style="text-align: center;">3 1/2 cups flour</div><div style="text-align: center;">1 tsp. baking soda</div><div style="text-align: center;">1 tsp. baking powder</div><div style="text-align: center;">1 tsp. salt</div><div style="text-align: center;">1 tbsp. instant espresso (I don't usually add this, just because I don't want the kids to have the caffeine, but it tastes delicious!)</div><div style="text-align: center;">1-1 1/2 cups dark chocolate chunks ( I don't like a TON of chocolate chips in my cookies. I normally add just 1 cup. I know most people like a bunch. Just add what you like.)</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Preheat oven to 300 degrees (that's not a typo, it's an unusual temperature to bake cookies at but it works great!). Cream butter and sugars until fluffy. Add egg or egg-replacer and water mixture and vanilla. Mix dry ingredients together. Add to butter mixture. Beat in coffee powder, then stir in chocolate. Scoop onto cookie tray (I use a silpat liner or parchment) and gently press down tops. Bake for 18 minutes for smaller ones or 22 minutes for large ones. I always let them rest on the cookie sheet for 5 minutes before transferring them to a cooling rack.</div><br />
Enjoy, Foodies! Love ya.Laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01147344578518296814noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-708271966633841892.post-34301331840448020022011-07-11T06:00:00.012-05:002011-08-02T18:25:45.541-05:00Read Your Veggies!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhie37by_hGmirylAMn7OJtZMoj4a9zQbP3m9JINAz8TF-2Grh4ewrglVhemPFey09Y44dshvbc1ngTBHsooCBkLBJ_m8luPBzCrbkKQzV0eJyiEcP7I3tKRAeA1bVqK-wPgaI47vrG-Qk/s1600/IMG_4280-1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="456" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhie37by_hGmirylAMn7OJtZMoj4a9zQbP3m9JINAz8TF-2Grh4ewrglVhemPFey09Y44dshvbc1ngTBHsooCBkLBJ_m8luPBzCrbkKQzV0eJyiEcP7I3tKRAeA1bVqK-wPgaI47vrG-Qk/s640/IMG_4280-1.JPG" width="640" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I spent twenty minutes in 100 degree heat arranging bits of vegetation into a word. I was in complete awe of how a green bean can grow into a perfect circle or "u" shape. I can't let that pass by me without doing something with it can I? </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">What a merciless taskmaster Inspiration is. She doesn't care how hot it is outside, she only cares that you craft!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">(Now that you have that in-depth preface)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I slithered back into the house, glistening with sweat, breathing a little heavier from my crafty-sweatshop workout and I proudly showed my husband the above picture on my camera's play back mode.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Hubs: (comfortably sitting in his recliner, playing dorky bird game on his iphone. Stares at the picture, squints, says nothing)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Me: (waiting with a goofy smile on my face, while intently watching his face for a reaction)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Hubs: (stills says nothing)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Me: Can't you read it?!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Hubs: No. Wait, "gorcen"?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Me: Huh? (I look back at the play back screen, searching for "gorcen")</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Hubs: What's that supposed to be? (points at the yellow cucumber flower)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Me: That's an "a". (as soon as I say it, I see how it's not so much like an "a")</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Hubs: Oh, that's a "d". (pointing to the chili pepper and near invisible thyme sprig)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">As I walk into the kitchen, I take time to toot my own horn on how creative I thought it was and how adorable the vegetables were, my voice trailing off behind me. From there I schlepped my deflated-balloon self to my computer to upload my un-readable vegetable word. Wah, wah.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I hate it when you craft in Sahara-like temperatures and you get no reaction, no reaction at all, I tell ya!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">That's all. Just a little something to share. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">It says "garden" by the way. But I know you guys got it, right?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Love ya, Foodies!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01147344578518296814noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-708271966633841892.post-42616852057072961952011-07-05T06:00:00.017-05:002011-08-02T18:26:25.878-05:00Chic Guacamole<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUlCVwAI6WIQKLJzJW4UZQ626jTvRvrJk5GfoFQ1gdfCZIlHxZrlgOk65ovqWd-jC7rFW-HeBcuUsdWBrl9w9ai_bKiFC2ctzo7G_be-NQk9dW-Cfp0y0M6c9jG3iXS7uir86sfkcfsKc/s1600/IMG_4066-1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUlCVwAI6WIQKLJzJW4UZQ626jTvRvrJk5GfoFQ1gdfCZIlHxZrlgOk65ovqWd-jC7rFW-HeBcuUsdWBrl9w9ai_bKiFC2ctzo7G_be-NQk9dW-Cfp0y0M6c9jG3iXS7uir86sfkcfsKc/s640/IMG_4066-1.JPG" width="426" /></a></div><br />
You may be saying, "Lauren, 'chic' is not the first word that comes to my mind when I think of guacamole." I understand, it's weird. But let's think of it in a fashion sense, shall we?<br />
<br />
What's the chicest thing you can think of when it comes to fashion? What is timeless? My first thought is the little black dress. Simple, classic and does not draw attention to itself but to the one wearing it. (I'm not implying you wear this guacamole, although, you may in your ravenous state and utter euphoria, end up with a schmear here or there.)<br />
<br />
When I think "chic" I also think, uncluttered.<br />
<br />
I hate cluttered guacamole. The saying, "less is more" is definitely appropriate here, as it is with fashion. I'm against all forms of tomatoes in my guac and I am abhorred by garlic (some my be gasping at this moment), I don't want corn or beans or cilantro or mayo (!), but here is why.<br />
<br />
I want to <i>taste</i> the avocado. I've just paid $4 for 2 organic avocados (and that was on sale!). I don't want to taste garlic or have a seedy, watery tomato fighting with my creamy, smooth super-food. <br />
<br />
So I have stripped down what I usually end up getting if I were to order guacamole in a restaurant and have created for you a simple, easy guacamole that will not only cut back on buying a butt-load of ingredients but will let you taste what nature intended.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh71QdWtyqYyhGUHcQyH0hMzNsZVjVZGJol8H8UoqLBM26WwwdFVaFnpCtWC-ZBcy164_pxIbXStt1PjHfmotLmjy5UrKSTUTCcynRlsIM2g8NikuEBctqb_jRH-GvvkDJUkIjnXvm7RKo/s1600/IMG_4058-1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh71QdWtyqYyhGUHcQyH0hMzNsZVjVZGJol8H8UoqLBM26WwwdFVaFnpCtWC-ZBcy164_pxIbXStt1PjHfmotLmjy5UrKSTUTCcynRlsIM2g8NikuEBctqb_jRH-GvvkDJUkIjnXvm7RKo/s640/IMG_4058-1.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;">Chic Guacamole</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">2 perfectly-ripe, organic avocados</div><div style="text-align: center;">1/2 green onion, minced</div><div style="text-align: center;">1/2 jalapeno, minced</div><div style="text-align: center;">Juice of 1/2 -3/4 fresh lime</div><div style="text-align: center;">Salt</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Mash it all together. Adjust for salt and spice. Go crazy on the jalapenos or use whatever pepper is your favorite. And if you want to make it even simpler, cut out the onions and peppers and simply use salt and lime. Such a summery treat! </div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVzIwMcn_tz631UFyzbZTCI7UC4aKuep7bSxBR88KE9bCQd_GyttYj_tdSz1DvlFFsRSE8CS2GAsVUpn0i2B0eFgbJqXi9y-RxcyLoMHH630dwJKZus9x5Pa2a1ivZu6EJnbx_xLAJCbQ/s1600/IMG_4070-1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVzIwMcn_tz631UFyzbZTCI7UC4aKuep7bSxBR88KE9bCQd_GyttYj_tdSz1DvlFFsRSE8CS2GAsVUpn0i2B0eFgbJqXi9y-RxcyLoMHH630dwJKZus9x5Pa2a1ivZu6EJnbx_xLAJCbQ/s640/IMG_4070-1.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
Love ya, Foodies!Laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01147344578518296814noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-708271966633841892.post-88474402948410638672011-07-02T15:01:00.001-05:002011-08-02T18:34:22.458-05:00A Duo Of Nap Time Snacks<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqyGuZz_n_yjG-0H42EM3q0cEbbVAkk9qdGHbsitVFysNeZCqngNu_qLxenM1u3QhfltHtn6Wt85sFERGcRhMPianNuf1yIS18eF0LK1CcqQT8duqdnoHCjxuBbtUEWV2XtZxhCV8shuc/s1600/IMG_3943-1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqyGuZz_n_yjG-0H42EM3q0cEbbVAkk9qdGHbsitVFysNeZCqngNu_qLxenM1u3QhfltHtn6Wt85sFERGcRhMPianNuf1yIS18eF0LK1CcqQT8duqdnoHCjxuBbtUEWV2XtZxhCV8shuc/s640/IMG_3943-1.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br />
I don't quite know what it is, but when nap time rolls around, I tend to celebrate with a snack. It could be for a couple of reasons: A. I didn't get to eat much of a lunch (as I am more of a short-order cook rather than a diner in my own house during the frenzied lunchtime rush of my three children). B. I simply get so excited about having some peace and quiet that I yank the Nutella out of the pantry with exaggerated Kung-Fu moves. <br />
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One snack is healthy the other is is not. I like giving my readers options, ya know? You like that, right?<br />
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I adore cottage cheese. I have very fond memories of eating bowlfuls of the stuff with canned peaches and pears (in heavy syrup, of course) over the top. Well, nowadays, I don't do canned fruit. So here's my updated and more healthy version, which honestly tastes better.<br />
<br />
1/2 cup lowfat, organic cottage cheese<br />
1/2 organic peach or pear, sliced<br />
drizzle of raw, organic agave<br />
One issue House Beautiful or Food and Wine magazine<br />
<br />
You could layer it into a parfait or do like I did, make it all dainty in a tea cup. Whatever suits your nap time (or anytime really) hankerings.<br />
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Alright, so the above is super healthy. This little guy below...not so much.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsfrLBUofdzNH7m91klkxGa0s3XAO0wRKWW11r8kXbtxbIzYhaLndwRu9ykJqH7auX2AJV9VRzZJ4WV65JKix69-UNS4gZcckRBdwhuQhAD69aISOXb0ZUztrwosWpmLS3HxRZQtWxxJk/s1600/IMG_3929-1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsfrLBUofdzNH7m91klkxGa0s3XAO0wRKWW11r8kXbtxbIzYhaLndwRu9ykJqH7auX2AJV9VRzZJ4WV65JKix69-UNS4gZcckRBdwhuQhAD69aISOXb0ZUztrwosWpmLS3HxRZQtWxxJk/s640/IMG_3929-1.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br />
He looks kinda dejected, huh? He's not really. I accepted him heartily and fully into my giant mouth of pearly chompers. Gosh, it was so good. What is this unhealthy-ish snack? Well, maybe it's not <i>too</i> unhealthy. Two out of the 3 ingredients are actually pretty good for you. It's that dang Nutella.<br />
<br />
So stack these three ingredients up for a super satisfying (mainly for the sweet tooth in us all) snack:<br />
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One brown rice cake<br />
One heaping tablespoon Nutella (don't be chintzy!)<br />
6-7 sliced banana<br />
Dash of Kung-Fu moves (optional)<br />
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It's not only the taste that is so great, but the textures. If you have been reading this blog for any time at all, you know that I am huge on texture. Most things I eat need to have some form of crunch or it's just not worth eating. The creaminess of the bananas and Nutella play beautifully together. Add a glass of milk and you just entered snack time heaven.<br />
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Being a stay-at-home mommy is a hard job, but your snacks don't have to be! That sounded like a commercial on much-too-late night t.v.<br />
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Well, Foodies, whether you are a stay-at-home mommy, working mommy, not-a-mommy or daddy, everyone needs a good snack. Maybe I will make snack posts a regular thing. I've got some more yummy ones up my sleeve.<br />
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Love ya, Foodies!Laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01147344578518296814noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-708271966633841892.post-21347286842845533832011-06-27T07:53:00.002-05:002011-06-27T07:57:23.054-05:00Baby Veg<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxpWcMiQJmmWNUecW3T8fAm6ZucT2hOamqn-82X1gmHE7NNMvd8LTMVHIvbYyp58LR2LEc2zP3S-EGhpuEfLRhtHJ4bnclMwnTnQqCNwrqFK-FDvonhSj0cOkY65yEpjc2XStwmb-PjFE/s1600/IMG_1534-1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxpWcMiQJmmWNUecW3T8fAm6ZucT2hOamqn-82X1gmHE7NNMvd8LTMVHIvbYyp58LR2LEc2zP3S-EGhpuEfLRhtHJ4bnclMwnTnQqCNwrqFK-FDvonhSj0cOkY65yEpjc2XStwmb-PjFE/s400/IMG_1534-1.JPG" width="400" /></a></div> Okay, so from the above picture you might surmise that I enjoy delegating, managing, holding shovels in a sassy fashion or I'm lazy. I'm learning to be better at delegating, I'm a good at managing my kids, definitely a cute shovel-holder and lazy only occasionally. I actually dug the entire garden alla myself (in a hurried/frenzied fashion during a nap-time lull) and had the Hubs do the tiller because the tiller makes me giggle and when I giggle, I get week arms and if you've ever used a tiller its extremely unsafe to be struck with giggling-induced weak arms because the tiller goes nutso-crazy on you like a jackrabbit on crack. Hence, the beefy man doing the tilling.<br />
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Phew.<br />
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So I've been raising seedlings indoors since March or April. We've got three varieties of organic tomatoes: Brandywine, cherry and some sort of flaming (?) Romas. They seriously look like they have yellow, stripey flames on them. We have parsley, pickling cucumbers and green beans. A variety of hot peppers for the Hubs. I've never grown green beans or grown tomatoes from seed. It was quite an enormous undertaking as far as the tomatoes go. They are so very delicate and require so much attention. I felt like my family grew to 45 children over night.<br />
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Cucumbers are probably my favorite thing to grow. They are so fool-proof. They grow like mad, so they really stroke your gardening-ego. They make you feel so accomplished. They have this naturally super-poky exterior on the leaves, stems and even the fruit itself so I never have worms or rabbits trying to eat it.<br />
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The green beans, other than herbs, have been my first harvest! I have been collecting tiny handfuls each evening until I came up with enough to justify cooking them. I feel strangely attached to these little guys. I've nurtured them, sang to them (yes, I sing to my garden. Trust me, it saved a wimpy tomato plant), weeded their bed and cooed over each little purple flower. Ready to throw-up? I REALLY love my little garden.<br />
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So it felt a slightly weird cooking up my green bean babies, but I was quickly over their death as I enjoyed every buttery bite. I simply steamed them in a pan with butter and salt and a dash of water. I topped them again with a wad of butter just before the Hubs and I recklessly dangled each one over our mouths and ate them more like popcorn than a proper bean. All the while smacking our lips, commenting on the fresh taste and sucking the butter from our fingertips.<br />
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They were sweet. They were perfectly tender. I have to say, I inhaled them.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-W9_uyTf5uTWPCFbpqnU9xKfxZJEGyaSokQwX2_izsu1dijfG2QZTk_e3M4JrBLObndag9tWOUMHks_gWh1ocw93nz-bYue4x1C9c0IS8UdYhn6xxkCzr74rGgpW8ELRHCuzpVhG-y8w/s1600/IMG_3745-1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-W9_uyTf5uTWPCFbpqnU9xKfxZJEGyaSokQwX2_izsu1dijfG2QZTk_e3M4JrBLObndag9tWOUMHks_gWh1ocw93nz-bYue4x1C9c0IS8UdYhn6xxkCzr74rGgpW8ELRHCuzpVhG-y8w/s400/IMG_3745-1.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
And that was that. The first fruits of my garden. It was bittersweet. I raised them and then I ate them. I can't imagine doing that with an animal. Ugh. I'd surely be converted to a vegetarian.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzahOVIRVi-Av-kq_02m5NBUYo74BFNdJaKNEu4lCiAxmw9CuvqK2uPpRIW7h7vmN9J6v1TowQjZgRO5m8PVH8V11ZigZmAuGPn17rf9uRu7koRpIPFrlbykibTruMgbkIyhPCojaS528/s1600/IMG_3734-1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzahOVIRVi-Av-kq_02m5NBUYo74BFNdJaKNEu4lCiAxmw9CuvqK2uPpRIW7h7vmN9J6v1TowQjZgRO5m8PVH8V11ZigZmAuGPn17rf9uRu7koRpIPFrlbykibTruMgbkIyhPCojaS528/s400/IMG_3734-1.JPG" width="266" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Sorry to be so sappy over my baby beans, but I mean...just look at them? Coochie-coo!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7qUbTs64PayS13zHwGfrJJN5pdCe4x-QyJZqGH8ayE7SiAqh48OQfA1cQbduWv9dbpVNgwm2F8xjmcR5RGPfjt4Fg_HHL14Gp6Jb-CvelxWbKct8vEC275b9vYRbkGffsli4357vOZC4/s1600/IMG_3718-1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7qUbTs64PayS13zHwGfrJJN5pdCe4x-QyJZqGH8ayE7SiAqh48OQfA1cQbduWv9dbpVNgwm2F8xjmcR5RGPfjt4Fg_HHL14Gp6Jb-CvelxWbKct8vEC275b9vYRbkGffsli4357vOZC4/s400/IMG_3718-1.JPG" width="266" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> Crazy dill. It's ready for pickling but the cucumbers are dragging behind. Hurry up cucs!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj51JACTDg_DGtyafQwut2n3QAX6ajhMe9lthjom1nJKBvfxaYRdD2HyJosrDTy3kTHHEl6BReReVr-rNZltKpxq0SPi3xdv1wXD6nQzQf8g_loX-admUv5gNJdvQ8_cSMJOaSQSmQDh_Y/s1600/IMG_3724-1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj51JACTDg_DGtyafQwut2n3QAX6ajhMe9lthjom1nJKBvfxaYRdD2HyJosrDTy3kTHHEl6BReReVr-rNZltKpxq0SPi3xdv1wXD6nQzQf8g_loX-admUv5gNJdvQ8_cSMJOaSQSmQDh_Y/s400/IMG_3724-1.JPG" width="400" /></a></div> So here is what the garden is now. It's much too cramped, overgrown and a plant free-for-all. I have 9 tomato plants crammed in next to each other- very much against the seed packet's instructions. I crammed so many in because I could bear letting some get in the garden and others not. I asked my neighbors if they would adopt my surplus tomato babies, er, plants. I basically made them sign an adoption agreement to nourish and take care of them. Okay, so I didn't, I just gave them the 'ol stink eye as I handed the baby plants over.<br />
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Curious about those wonky, ladder-ish things? I got them out of someone's trash. I pick up stuff out of people's trash occasionally. Not nasty trash, nice trash from the nice neighborhoods. You know, where they throw out stuff that's still useful, but they just have no use for it, which makes it perfect for me! Anyway, those ugly things are for my beans and cucumbers to grow up since my garden is a postage stamp size. Having things grow up helps a lot.<br />
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As I write this, I am realizing with great clarity my weirdo-plant love I have. I'm really attached. Hmmm.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiP0UT1pSFbGYtjdHs73y8LK509tbnADe6m05Hqkn2fQdPjvGShP2-b_3Cu9MvqpZtlekyuBA75sKMfPPASjm1GWso99L7eQcT1DJ3WoDe4psnp0TdgFKheeY3cNSmSIljAuSfIAfLeOA/s1600/IMG_3737-1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiP0UT1pSFbGYtjdHs73y8LK509tbnADe6m05Hqkn2fQdPjvGShP2-b_3Cu9MvqpZtlekyuBA75sKMfPPASjm1GWso99L7eQcT1DJ3WoDe4psnp0TdgFKheeY3cNSmSIljAuSfIAfLeOA/s400/IMG_3737-1.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>Nuzzling my manicured toes in with the parsley. I have garden clogs...but honestly, who cares? I love my feet in the dirt- that is, until the Hubs points out the clods of mud still clinging to the sides of my rustic, farmer feet. <br />
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Dig in the dirt and plant something. (Al Gore didn't tell me to tell you that.)<br />
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Love ya, Foodies.Laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01147344578518296814noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-708271966633841892.post-85812862356972956072011-06-03T11:14:00.001-05:002011-08-02T18:35:28.619-05:00The Whole Dole<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc3L6K3XOiTz_QscmiWhqYDvUaPO3Ynu6CAqR6hKGwKd4bpW8wEQcCRgi97DrK6jiVL4G199SHUZDtTgoSF5RSZPOKbNOMpQLHTzElUrGJpUQ89C1ZEwzpm8efrp9hdF0ETUhLel_K1JY/s1600/IMG_3311-1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc3L6K3XOiTz_QscmiWhqYDvUaPO3Ynu6CAqR6hKGwKd4bpW8wEQcCRgi97DrK6jiVL4G199SHUZDtTgoSF5RSZPOKbNOMpQLHTzElUrGJpUQ89C1ZEwzpm8efrp9hdF0ETUhLel_K1JY/s640/IMG_3311-1.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br />
It's warming up outside. It's time for popsicles and ice cream. Time to eat your frozen treats in total abandonment with sticky, grape, orange and cherry stains to match the love fest.<br />
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That's why I strip my kids down to their undies to eat such treats. And I hate laundry. <br />
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With that said, I'm not so big on pre-made, processed frozen treats. They're okay once in a while, but I much prefer the kiddos getting their treat fix with natural juice pops or whole fruit "ice cream", which they can eat with their clothes on, because apple juice doesn't stain (or make your kids crazy) like red dye 40.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxiVkGKW_fVfkH5yJGcirAd7y_rczetBJPR_bX_Yfl0Emt9p_cDHPTQ2E6kRe7ibw3JXsEkTJrgPLblitiBwVIueQbktZ9UCDFbGHK_9ux5lOZh_EyhQX2dMxbMsz7oS7P_cbxPIH2Ols/s1600/IMG_3232-1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="456" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxiVkGKW_fVfkH5yJGcirAd7y_rczetBJPR_bX_Yfl0Emt9p_cDHPTQ2E6kRe7ibw3JXsEkTJrgPLblitiBwVIueQbktZ9UCDFbGHK_9ux5lOZh_EyhQX2dMxbMsz7oS7P_cbxPIH2Ols/s640/IMG_3232-1.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br />
I guess I should teach my kids the word sorbet. Apparently I don't want them to look like junior food snobs when they play with the other four year old kids. (read next sentence in a hoity-toity voice.) "We had a palate cleansing dish of sorbet between our first and second course. What did your mom make?"<br />
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So the "whole dole" is like the whole enchilada, or shebang, or...you know what, I don't need to explain. You get it. It's everything. The whole pineapple. (I teach workshops on how to rabbit trail, if you are interested.)<br />
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I got this idea this morning. Instead of super sugary sorbet, or super fatty ice cream, why not save my fleeting waistline and feed my kids some extra fiber, by blending an entire pineapple, freezing it in the ice cream maker and calling it the "whole dole" sorbet?<br />
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Earth-shaking, I know.<br />
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Side note on the whole fiber thing. I LOVE chomping on the core of the pineapple. It's fibrous texture and juicy, watery content satisfies that need-to-gnaw-on-something/puppy dog nature of mine. <br />
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Well, I believe one could, if one was so inclined, could give oneself diarrhea by chewing and consuming one too many pineapple cores. It's merely heresay. I may know a girl who did that, once.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><b>The Whole Dole Sorbet</b></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimgP6aMzs1SnFhLSAhmq5DMOJ9REVaunkvHkuHYbH6to4FUMiB1ympM2gUNWWE-V7EmNDDkt9DfAnEiBgTCErfog3OAVEUvABk6sDtVDwIx7N1IVEbixogesUtaEn7U7fcQPJh3aBpRcU/s1600/IMG_3175-1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimgP6aMzs1SnFhLSAhmq5DMOJ9REVaunkvHkuHYbH6to4FUMiB1ympM2gUNWWE-V7EmNDDkt9DfAnEiBgTCErfog3OAVEUvABk6sDtVDwIx7N1IVEbixogesUtaEn7U7fcQPJh3aBpRcU/s640/IMG_3175-1.JPG" width="425" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">1 whole, fresh, ripe pineapple</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Take off it's jacket, remove core, chew on the core, lop the flesh it into chunks and whiz away into oblivion in the food processor. Pour into ice cream maker and freeze. It comes out almost fluffy. I think air gets whipped into it in the food processor. Interesting texture.</div><br />
Word on the sorbet firmness...I'm weird about making homemade sorbet. It must be eaten immediately after it's made. I find that homemade sorbet, when frozen in the freezer after its jaunt in the ice cream maker is, well, solid as a rock. It looses it slushy texture. So while we are all eating our dinner, I have the sorbet churning away. It's a great incentive for slow and picky eaters, to hurry up and eat. The soft and gentle whirring sound of the ice cream maker as it goes round and round is like kid-brainwashing that sends this message: "Eat your food, child. Eat!"<br />
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We are going to be eating a lot more sorbet around here.<br />
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Love Ya, Friends.Laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01147344578518296814noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-708271966633841892.post-64909909098695582722011-04-13T14:46:00.007-05:002011-08-02T18:37:58.292-05:00Tina Fey InterviewWhen adoration and imagination run a muck: <br />
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(Tina and I sit in plush, matching recliners while balancing plates of Night Cheese on our laps and wearing Snuggies. And yes, she is interviewing ME, not the other way around. That should give you a hint to the reality of this "interview".)<br />
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LZ: Tina, let me say before we even get started, that I knew something good was going to happen today when I saw that my speedometer read, 77,777. <br />
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TF: Mine too! So Lauren, believe it or not, I've brought you here to my home to talk to you about the array of dishes you created out of a Costco-size, bag of limes.<br />
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LZ: Really, Tina? Are you sure it's not because you have that new book <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Bossypants-Tina-Fey/dp/0316056863">Bossypants</a> out and you wanted to boost your sales? <br />
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TF: Your blog has how many followers again?<br />
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LZ: One hundred and twenty.<br />
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TF: Are you supposed to say the "and"?<br />
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LZ: Probably not, but I felt it made it sound more adequate.<br />
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TF: Well, since we are on the subject of my book, have you read it?<br />
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LZ: Yes, I have...well, parts of it. Actually the front and back cover to be exact. It was while I was shopping in Target the other day. I'm happy to say that I'm number 155 in line to get it next from the library. So it looks like I should be able to finish reading it around July. That should make you feel good. <br />
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TF: Why because so many people are eager to not pay for it?<br />
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LZ: No, to show you how popular you are.<br />
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TF: Hmm, maybe I should do a reading at my local library.<br />
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LZ: Brilliant! See, we are working like a team already!<br />
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TF: Who said anything about a team?<br />
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LZ: Just me. So what cheese are you eating? Mines a 15 month old English cheddar. Sounds young for a human but that's pretty old for a cheese.<br />
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TF: Um, just a good, middle-aged Gouda. <br />
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LZ: And do you use an actual cheese knife?<br />
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TF: When I can. Cheese knives are so pretentious, don't you think?<br />
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LZ: Totally. I really feel like we are bonding.<br />
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TF: (takes another bite of her Gouda while humming. Neither denies nor confirms my statement. Therefore, it must mean "maybe". Fingers crossed.)<br />
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LZ: You know, I had the opportunity to be interviewed by Alec Baldwin about the limes...<br />
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TF: Who?<br />
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LZ: Don't worry, I turned him down. I just can't forgive him for cheating on Tess in Working Girl. Besides, he said he had a yachting tournament to attend. We both know it wouldn't have worked.<br />
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TF: He uses that one on me all the time. Yacht is code for "No way, Jose".<br />
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LZ: I'll remember that the next time I call. <br />
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TF: Back to the bag 'o limes (Tina does an awkward Irish jig in her recliner and we both giggle), how did you transport them?<br />
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LZ: Well, "lugging" would be a good word, Tina, also, "hoisting" could work. They were moderately heavy. I hoisted them into the back of my dented mini-van, on top of the stroller that I never take out and next to a ladybug kite that flaps in the wind every time I roll down the windows and adjacent to an old dirty diaper. Your breath never smells like you ate an old dirty diaper, does it Liz Lemon?<br />
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TF: So you <i>were</i> listening.<br />
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LZ: It's understood that I love 30 Rock. Who else would arrange for our Night Cheese platters?<br />
<br />
TF: That was you? Genius, except it's not night time...<br />
<br />
LZ: (Screaming like a toddler in my head) She called me "genius!!!"<br />
<br />
TF: But no matter, I'm thinking of changing it to Anytime Cheese or Spontaneous Cheese.<br />
<br />
LZ: Again, we are back to team work, and it feels good.<br />
<br />
TF: I've got to admit, this could work.<br />
<br />
LZ: I think I just peed a little.<br />
<br />
TF: Well, your paying to have your recliner cleaned then.<br />
<br />
LZ: Don't worry, I rented these from a prop store. It'll dry.<br />
<br />
TF: You rented recliners?...for my house?<br />
<br />
LZ: And?<br />
<br />
TF: Cool.<br />
<br />
LZ: I made a delightful Lime- Herb Rubbed Salmon out of the limes. Want to hear about it?<br />
<br />
TF: Not really. I want to hear about the worst combination of foods you have ever eaten.<br />
<br />
LZ: Chicken curry followed by a bowl of raisin bran, while pregnant.<br />
<br />
TF: That's pretty bad.<br />
<br />
LZ: The pregnant part only explains half of it.<br />
<br />
TF: And the other half?<br />
<br />
LZ: I'm not sure I follow.<br />
<br />
TF: About the curry-raisin-bran combo?<br />
<br />
LZ: I'm an enigma.<br />
<br />
TF: Clearly.<br />
<br />
LZ: So when do we start branching out in our BBQ bottling ventures?<br />
<br />
TF: I was unaware...<br />
<br />
LZ: You didn't get that memo?<br />
<br />
TF: Firstly, I don't care for BBQ and secondly, I know nothing about bottling.<br />
<br />
<br />
LZ: Schlemiel, schlimazel, (mumbles)...<br />
<br />
TF and LZ: (in unison) INCORPORATED! <br />
<br />
TF: Inspiring but I'm going to have to turn you down on the BBQ sauce.<br />
<br />
LZ: Penny Marshall was at the top of her game!<br />
<br />
TF: Really.<br />
<br />
LZ: Okay, answer me this: Does Jack Donaghy love the microwave?<br />
<br />
TF: Alright, you got me. I could always use something else to do. What do we name our sauce?<br />
<br />
LZ: Two Hot Babes BBQ Sauce?<br />
<br />
TF: Only one of us is hot.<br />
<br />
LZ: Thanks, Tina. Okay, how about 30 Ribs BBQ Sauce?<br />
<br />
TF: I get it...but, no.<br />
<br />
LZ: You're the comedy writer, you think of something.<br />
<br />
TF: Okay, sure, no problem. (eats yet another slice of cheese) How about "BBQ Blaster" and we put it in a squirt gun?<br />
<br />
LZ: Kinda like Cheesy Blasters, but BBQ sauce?<br />
<br />
TF: Um, yeah.<br />
<br />
LZ: It's alright. I guess I was expecting more, Tina. I mean, you're <i>the</i> Tina Fey. You get paid millions, consequently billions to do this stuff. BBQ Blaster? I'll give you points for the the squirt gun.<br />
<br />
TF: Thanks, I guess.<br />
<br />
LZ: I think the next step is to get our hairnets on and get to work on making, what's it called again?<br />
<br />
TF: (sheepishly) BBQ Blaster.<br />
<br />
LZ: We're going to have to work on that Tina. I still like 30 Ribs.<br />
<br />
TF: Okay, Bossypants.<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">~</div><div style="text-align: center;">Firstly, I must say, anything written on behalf of the fabulous Tina Fey, was not said by her at all. Just what I wish she were to say if we got to hang out.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div>And because I am a behind-the-scenes kind of girl, here's what went down while I was writing this nonsense:<br />
<br />
I fixed a Batman mask, fed my kids breakfast, ate a bowl of raisin bran (what can I say, I love fiber...just about as much as I love cheese. Good thing too.), wrote a grocery list, broke up numerous sibling fights, knocked over the box of Cherrios, swept it up, stepped on several, said fake curse words in my frustration, looked up how to spell "yacht" and "Donaghy", let the kids watch too much television, said "no" to a Wiggles movie seventeen times, stubbed my toe, announced again that I need a pedicure, put my oldest son in his Buzz Lightyear costume, threatened to not let my kids have a cookie at Whole Foods if they didn't stop hitting each other, listened to 3 whining sessions and planned this weeks menu in my head. Tina is so worth it.<br />
<br />
What would be the coolest thing ever? That Tina would read this. That she might Google herself and have the patience to go to the 89th page of Google search to read this post...and possibly ask me to do a guest appearance on 30 Rock or do the BBQ sauce thing. I'm up for whatever. I'm pretty sure there are six degrees of separation between us, I just don't know what they are.<br />
<br />
Love Ya, Foodies!<br />
<br />
P.s. Here's the recipe for the delicious Lime-Herb Rubbed Salmon I was trying to tell Tina about:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5GTWI3KLq_aLddk51trItJb1Mx4p94uW5rEUkjMh8sFEHAon7Moes1OY1j3llyzSIPh-9SKY2_D96Nn4CkOFCMcxA2TKdhJkeOyIje2oKBBqU6N_jFYLNvfBgHtCwQ7f9mXpxQRun7iE/s1600/IMG_1412-1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5GTWI3KLq_aLddk51trItJb1Mx4p94uW5rEUkjMh8sFEHAon7Moes1OY1j3llyzSIPh-9SKY2_D96Nn4CkOFCMcxA2TKdhJkeOyIje2oKBBqU6N_jFYLNvfBgHtCwQ7f9mXpxQRun7iE/s640/IMG_1412-1.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br />
Lime-Herb Rubbed Salmon<br />
<br />
generously feeds 2<br />
<br />
zest of one lime<br />
minced fresh herbs, I used rosemary, thyme and basil- handful of each<br />
1/2 clove fresh garlic, grated on microplane or minced very finely<br />
1-2 tbsp. olive oil<br />
<br />
Mix all this together and make a paste. Apply it to approx. 3/4 lb. of fresh Wild Alaskan salmon (I used Sockeye). Let it set for a good 30 minutes.<br />
<br />
Get your pan very hot over medium heat. Sprinkle salmon on both sides with salt and pepper. Sear on both sides for 3 min. each. Remove salmon and turn heat down. Add 1-2 tbsp. butter (depending on how bad you want to be) and let it melt in the pan, slightly browning. Squeeze the juice of 1/2 lime into the butter and quickly pour it over the salmon. I served it with a herb, soft polenta but it would be good with roasted potatoes or even some pasta.Laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01147344578518296814noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-708271966633841892.post-29437630039504699152011-04-07T07:11:00.001-05:002011-08-02T18:39:50.590-05:00A Fine Specimen, Indeed!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSZzmSSLKS_S-tYxkIYZytGHFzYmyXTjAje7-I9Ggzxo_lLV2x1O0NqTlkVa3kCOfe5HsRGNrJkPMcUn3o5olukX_9ClBGHmopRMEgw09QwsfQ9iapPkdJL9Ya3gDc0f4nvdyuE8J1e1U/s1600/IMG_0314-1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtUNZyUt6klwKeDPeltFry1kY1ndbnpBlOUJqyyNSzknwREHodQViJ7ekJ8KnuPGHb1jmIEeeUNYkIG5IfXsbRXSh7EnP137eEzi1RFMvaertnfk0UIgD6Jj5XyA1Sy-Is-OJGHHEKSjc/s1600/IMG_0328-1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtUNZyUt6klwKeDPeltFry1kY1ndbnpBlOUJqyyNSzknwREHodQViJ7ekJ8KnuPGHb1jmIEeeUNYkIG5IfXsbRXSh7EnP137eEzi1RFMvaertnfk0UIgD6Jj5XyA1Sy-Is-OJGHHEKSjc/s640/IMG_0328-1.JPG" width="406" /></a></div><br />
Quite arresting, isn't it? Poor guy, he's missing all the important parts, like his head for one. Oh, you thought I was going to talk about his missing man-ish parts? Yes, that's very important too. But I marvel at this sculpture because you don't notice so much what he doesn't have (sorta) but more at what is left. Simply beautiful...and really old. <br />
<br />
"Lauren, tell me where you find such ruined beauty," you say? Well, it's at the <a href="http://www.nelson-atkins.org/">Nelson-Atkins Museum of Art</a>, right here in Kansas City. Admission is free and the food is INSANELY good at the Rozzelle Court restaurant, which is located in the heart of the museum.You find yourself sitting in a 15th century courtyard which was flown in from Italy. Pretty impressive.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRtEm31-pUu8F5dQOTNGKnW8qNXCBDtblK9Qv18nyW6CvYZPfx570444iPFpsf-ZWSqQIRd9C4uq-EeNig9MQqqklJiSUx17KfgSOksr1lTWuvJ9_UxhdNQVEuEDStFU0_WQv73M51-Rs/s1600/IMG_0316-1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRtEm31-pUu8F5dQOTNGKnW8qNXCBDtblK9Qv18nyW6CvYZPfx570444iPFpsf-ZWSqQIRd9C4uq-EeNig9MQqqklJiSUx17KfgSOksr1lTWuvJ9_UxhdNQVEuEDStFU0_WQv73M51-Rs/s640/IMG_0316-1.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br />
Speaking of food, this is what I ate that day, (yes, a day which was child-free, thanks to my mom) which was a vegetarian Mediterranean salad. So unique. Actually, it was quite inspiring, as far as a salad goes. It had marinated mushrooms, in which I detected a hint of wine, cooked and chilled asparagus, cold, roasted potatoes (which I was expecting to be weird and mealy, but where not), and creamy feta and roasted peppers. And of course, some salty, make-you-bloat-two-dress-sizes-right-in-you-chair kalamata olives. Divine.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaM443lz-DBjMG-KCZ57Emgy-XlGqhRQ1RqoorU7GQfzH997SwiyDa5sCjlY_3zOxw19STxfTpCjmluqj_z9wG78VrpfkzUM6dOAX-rMW8Xt1HUemiPnL_qN9j8PchsMeorRGdBuNMa2U/s1600/IMG_0352-1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaM443lz-DBjMG-KCZ57Emgy-XlGqhRQ1RqoorU7GQfzH997SwiyDa5sCjlY_3zOxw19STxfTpCjmluqj_z9wG78VrpfkzUM6dOAX-rMW8Xt1HUemiPnL_qN9j8PchsMeorRGdBuNMa2U/s640/IMG_0352-1.JPG" width="640" /> </a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I'm always quite intrigued by any painting or sculpture of the Madonna and Christ child. I mean, I find the artwork on the subject quite strange and wonderful at the same time. Most of the time Mary looks really bored and sometimes even annoyed by her God-incarnate child. According to the description of this sculpture, this is a very tender rendering of the two, in that Christ touching his mother's cheek, shows a very intimate and connected bond between the two. Hmmm. I see it, but it's very different from how I see moms (including myself) love on their kids nowadays. We snuggle and nibble, sniff and tickle their necks and ribs, toes and cheeks. I want to see a painting of Mary and Jesus like that, because that's how I believe it really was.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2tL8AwYb4pWaAd-nBo__2_cDVA95nNH7qKdY3obDT0m1VxnAU2mcJ8_KvQzCa23ljaXar1b1SscBnxS69cgS22rZbDh2O3_0tJGiKIeMO8PdDIYcN4ZlwjOK0XGTNRNk_2mzD0XiP04o/s1600/IMG_0382-1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2tL8AwYb4pWaAd-nBo__2_cDVA95nNH7qKdY3obDT0m1VxnAU2mcJ8_KvQzCa23ljaXar1b1SscBnxS69cgS22rZbDh2O3_0tJGiKIeMO8PdDIYcN4ZlwjOK0XGTNRNk_2mzD0XiP04o/s640/IMG_0382-1.JPG" width="426" /></a></div>Take a look at this beauty. More than anything else that I have to say about this sculpture is that I cannot get past how the sculptor was able to make marble look like soft, silky, drape-y, fabric. How it clings to her body and billows out below- simply incredible.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXTdA8Z-rh9fH9cUN2NkCBpKFCh9Mg3cyovAtaxuGo5aoL3IPgWqhswz2WYbgID302BlML9MmPFse7kjIksoEBJY7A4lE3bgB0Td_PhNVc111RUndm_ZbMzYTFfKZnmWpKy0RTympzXds/s1600/IMG_0415-1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXTdA8Z-rh9fH9cUN2NkCBpKFCh9Mg3cyovAtaxuGo5aoL3IPgWqhswz2WYbgID302BlML9MmPFse7kjIksoEBJY7A4lE3bgB0Td_PhNVc111RUndm_ZbMzYTFfKZnmWpKy0RTympzXds/s640/IMG_0415-1.JPG" width="426" /></a></div><br />
I have been coming to this museum since I was a young girl. In my heart, this is the birthplace of my love of art. I can spend hours gazing at the familiar artwork that has become like old friends. The shape that this sculpture creates is so different than most really old sculptures. She's not merely standing there holding a pot, or regally posing with a crown, but instead, you feel like you've caught her in the act of her daily ritual of adorning herself with flowers, in the woods somewhere.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNNGV_tXYBVZI8ha3NDYwDvhufWsdujVAd4Zswv51NI4GOTD1e-M_SD8qnTrkB-ccm9mT6exPQIHeFTvbdTUIwg0IPoPvp4xqhHkotBD2erdL-LRtxQTMQmO5jR0au6cUhJSRR2yqOCGc/s1600/IMG_0413-1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNNGV_tXYBVZI8ha3NDYwDvhufWsdujVAd4Zswv51NI4GOTD1e-M_SD8qnTrkB-ccm9mT6exPQIHeFTvbdTUIwg0IPoPvp4xqhHkotBD2erdL-LRtxQTMQmO5jR0au6cUhJSRR2yqOCGc/s640/IMG_0413-1.JPG" width="426" /></a></div> But what I like most is that she is smiling.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3TYHMn_KrrhBaQoI2Wg8TYcWNGc8QjLzHjCR6qlPJku9q0vUuNYR9vIdAP5XLETx4YpgR0qx9tdV1lQIopdrH8uyytRMcxjZoiBs8OyEXeJoeEomjhpqNhC1dc17jmd25-HecyGYQXOI/s1600/IMG_0417-1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3TYHMn_KrrhBaQoI2Wg8TYcWNGc8QjLzHjCR6qlPJku9q0vUuNYR9vIdAP5XLETx4YpgR0qx9tdV1lQIopdrH8uyytRMcxjZoiBs8OyEXeJoeEomjhpqNhC1dc17jmd25-HecyGYQXOI/s640/IMG_0417-1.JPG" width="426" /></a></div><br />
This painting reminds me of my grandma. She looks eerily like her and she is also a woman of the same decent as my grandma- a Southern Italian. Looking at her eyes stirs curiosity over what she is daydreaming about. As my gaze floats down the painting, I am distracted by the sheen on the pearls around her neck. How did the painter capture such realism? And the folds in her blouse? Oh, that I could someday capture something so simple with such immaculate detail. It's so inspiring.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSZzmSSLKS_S-tYxkIYZytGHFzYmyXTjAje7-I9Ggzxo_lLV2x1O0NqTlkVa3kCOfe5HsRGNrJkPMcUn3o5olukX_9ClBGHmopRMEgw09QwsfQ9iapPkdJL9Ya3gDc0f4nvdyuE8J1e1U/s1600/IMG_0314-1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSZzmSSLKS_S-tYxkIYZytGHFzYmyXTjAje7-I9Ggzxo_lLV2x1O0NqTlkVa3kCOfe5HsRGNrJkPMcUn3o5olukX_9ClBGHmopRMEgw09QwsfQ9iapPkdJL9Ya3gDc0f4nvdyuE8J1e1U/s640/IMG_0314-1.JPG" width="426" /> </a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">These two love birds are embracing one another after the hunka-hunka man killed a boar. It lays dead in the background. But what I couldn't seem to get over was the enormity of both the lover's hands. They were GINORMOUS! Even though the artist translated the dainty aspects of a woman's hand, it could have easily palmed a basketball the size of a small elephant! Of course, I do take into account that the statue itself is nearly 9 to 10 foot high. Had that statue come to life and given me a high-5, I would be typing with one hand right now...the other would still be lying on the floor of the Nelson-Atkins Museum of Art.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Oh, how the mind wanders. Well, I hope you enjoyed this little tour, and truly, it was little. There is so much to experience at this great museum. If you are in town, you simply must visit, have a leisurely lunch and fill you quota for art appreciation. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Love Ya, Foodies!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">P.s. Monet's (<a href="http://anecdotesandapples.weebly.com/">http://anecdotesandapples.weebly.com/)</a> brother-in-law is in his own room now and talking! He is still unaware of what has happened. Pray for continued strength for him and his son.</div>Laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01147344578518296814noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-708271966633841892.post-49101022324419511732011-03-31T14:42:00.003-05:002011-08-02T18:41:37.518-05:00The Compulsion to Create<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKwtVmQI8ncYfzx87AploU3IX6wYDIM4o1ezgxRcf1FZVLK7MSGlPUhGmAYrq-v_bpIWWe1Xr9pVbu3fVfIA2NyZrCJmAmnoDiotg7xDszVaHB_XwRQ83-z_73w9y2vXjcWwT1pTsPqKY/s1600/IMG_1324-1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKwtVmQI8ncYfzx87AploU3IX6wYDIM4o1ezgxRcf1FZVLK7MSGlPUhGmAYrq-v_bpIWWe1Xr9pVbu3fVfIA2NyZrCJmAmnoDiotg7xDszVaHB_XwRQ83-z_73w9y2vXjcWwT1pTsPqKY/s640/IMG_1324-1.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> Creativity is invigorating.</div><br />
Being a mom can be really hard at times. Each mom is forced to deal with her special mix of issues, created by her special mix of kids (not to mention her special mix of self). Somedays, by no fault of their own, the kids run me into the ground. With a sprinkling of PMS and a bad night's sleep, incessant questions and tantrums, doctor's visits and therapy sessions, grocery store runs and playdates, and last but not least piles of laundry on top of piles of dishes, after which you clean up you then have to make dinner!...well you get the picture, and moms, if you are reading this your saying, "Ehmmm. I LIVE in that picture."<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3BdwLRIvSo2RLkoCHtUczwxmERPRHs3P5RJye33S69mU-nGMzogyUUNcOGEmEmm_RHYdl38fDh3fe9MxH3JYunEcR8uVJmyRme1zKqeb-p9cnrORJw9v-L2AeUDepYWST2X4MXGADUVo/s1600/IMG_1278-1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3BdwLRIvSo2RLkoCHtUczwxmERPRHs3P5RJye33S69mU-nGMzogyUUNcOGEmEmm_RHYdl38fDh3fe9MxH3JYunEcR8uVJmyRme1zKqeb-p9cnrORJw9v-L2AeUDepYWST2X4MXGADUVo/s640/IMG_1278-1.JPG" width="426" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> Tantrum.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div>I've always been a creative person, from as far back as I can remember. Most of my first memories are of drawing or crafting in some fashion. So when life gets overwhelming, there is nothing better than creating or growing <i>something</i>. Both things introduce life and life is one of the happiest things there is.<br />
<br />
When you grow or make something, whether it's a sprouting tomato seedling or simply doodling for the sake of doodling, there is a satisfaction that washes over me and it refreshes me. Sometimes just gazing at those little sprouts breathes life into this weary mommy.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVJ4cDbY8fp43F-v7DQnCX2sWWLuLhK9fZybw98XqvX-_TF75fmTJY4ALNuaDZkF2LrjlC2iywuIPSvxRymFprPdOZ3MONtaILi3feiLnzqR1mCc-bI6YptOWiH7saTqSyv1cZjEiG6j4/s1600/IMG_1370-1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="496" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVJ4cDbY8fp43F-v7DQnCX2sWWLuLhK9fZybw98XqvX-_TF75fmTJY4ALNuaDZkF2LrjlC2iywuIPSvxRymFprPdOZ3MONtaILi3feiLnzqR1mCc-bI6YptOWiH7saTqSyv1cZjEiG6j4/s640/IMG_1370-1.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Aren't my baby sprouts the cutest? I love how they crave light. They uniformly lean their little slender bodies towards the slightest bit of light. I like to change things up and turn them around, just so I can watch them move again.</div><br />
Maybe it's because I'm so desperate for Spring, or maybe it's because I need a mommy break badly. But I find myself craving to create like it's a drug. Anything! I don't care what it is. I put a puzzle together for the first time in years, a couple of weeks ago. It was so much fun!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwullgg6pxMIR6xfRZNTpjD1ibTgVfRsLQqWgjV8APX3Y577ZSmVR5PGEzRwJ3dTMAHJTd0AWLH-d7rp2qD9djZ20igTqUcs06qPdYuaNpaQANx6JSZ9bOBUTu-X-n63GPGTXlU2Btt8E/s1600/IMG_1203-1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwullgg6pxMIR6xfRZNTpjD1ibTgVfRsLQqWgjV8APX3Y577ZSmVR5PGEzRwJ3dTMAHJTd0AWLH-d7rp2qD9djZ20igTqUcs06qPdYuaNpaQANx6JSZ9bOBUTu-X-n63GPGTXlU2Btt8E/s640/IMG_1203-1.JPG" width="426" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> Did I ever tell you I love all things Alice in Wonderland? Well, I do -since I was very small. It's currently in the works to turn my kitchen into a Wonderland kitchen. I will have to do a post on that...</div><br />
Here's the rub: when you are rundown, tired, overwhelmed or frustrated, taking that time to sit down and create something can be yet, another thing on your to-do list. And instead of becoming an oasis that it was intended to be, you find it annoying. BUT, if you flip it, view it as a "spa time" for you, and only do something YOU want to do, (this kind of creative spa time does NOT include the following: putting together a toy for your kid, doing a science fair project, or trying to figure a "creative" way to keep the cat from pooping in your potted plants) and the great thing is that it could be as simple as taking some pictures of the budding trees in your backyard, or tying a bright pink ribbon in your ponytail or hanging that picture in your dining room that you know will just "make it".<br />
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But if you have a little extra zing that day, whether it be from an extra cup of coffee or your mom has the kids for the day (or even an hour), don't spend that time doing laundry! Use it to feed you. I often times find that the most impromptu creative moments are the best. They are so surprising and leave me with a glow all day.<br />
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It's in our nature to create, as humans. I think it's the ultimate high. It's where I most find God. Creativity is like my secret door to the secret clubhouse that God and I have together. In that tiny window of time, I'm co-creating with Him. It stirs conversations and healing. It awakens hope in some of dark corners of my heart. It relieves the burdens I continually choose to carry and reminds me that He will gladly carry them for me...all while doodling my latest idea for the kitchen decor or pressing tiny seeds into a planter to grow, He speaks.<br />
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I love that creativity is not bound by rules. It is what you want it to be. Its an indulging of the heart. There is no right or wrong. It could be baking a pie or painting a mural. Sometimes just breaking the ground for where your garden will go, can be as thrilling as a final stroke on a painting or piano key.<br />
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And then there is the creating in the midst of chaos, which can be the "quiet" you are looking for. Even when the kids are screaming and running, or my Tiny is tearing up the tupperware drawer for the 19th time that day, I will make a pie. I know, it seems nuts, but I don't have the luxury of always waiting for the "perfect moment" to create. Often times, it's more like a quick fire challenge on Top Chef than as leisure pie baking session with grandma. It's occupying the kids in smashing the graham crackers to smithereens so I can make the custard...but I'm still creating and loving it.<br />
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The other day, I was cleaning up the kitchen to make yet another mess and I laughed to myself as I cleaned up the oils and ingredients for my cosmetic making endeavors, the potting soil from the seed planting and the paints from the kid's craft time. As soon as I got that all away, I was reaching for the cutting board to start dinner. So my kitchen (as I'm sure yours is as well) is not only a kitchen, but a science lab, greenhouse and an art studio. The thought of that makes me so happy.<br />
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I also wanted to follow-up with you concerning the last post, Potatoes and Prayers. If you have not heard, Monet's sister passed last night and joined her son in heaven. It's such a tremendous loss. If you have not, please stop by her blog (<a href="http://anecdotesandapples.weebly.com/">http://anecdotesandapples.weebly.com/</a>) and flood her with support. We love you, Monet. This photo I took the other day, made me think of your sister today.<br />
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Love ya, Foodies!Laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01147344578518296814noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-708271966633841892.post-88912640029357017812011-03-23T07:19:00.001-05:002011-08-02T18:42:11.198-05:00Potatoes and Prayers<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrOe5u_i6zWIl79eaLkun699QHbl6dxoGXVjcnonwqKOqVjQUqXjbfGAlnIAAqHnn5g6Fqb0yYqg-z-C5I8Dq3fL-cEILkIJj5asiC0GMgOoAY58sb69yk5yAEVA_m4er1dieqIpNHjnk/s1600/IMG_1192-1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrOe5u_i6zWIl79eaLkun699QHbl6dxoGXVjcnonwqKOqVjQUqXjbfGAlnIAAqHnn5g6Fqb0yYqg-z-C5I8Dq3fL-cEILkIJj5asiC0GMgOoAY58sb69yk5yAEVA_m4er1dieqIpNHjnk/s640/IMG_1192-1.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br />
I would like to cook my friend a meal. I would like to cook one for her entire family- a family who has walked through so much the past few years that it's hard to imagine.<br />
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We foodies generally show our love and affection and our nurturing spirits through the food we cook. But unfortunately, all I can do for this friend is pray and sit and wait for her updates regarding her family.<br />
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That friend is Monet.<br />
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Many of you already know Monet through her inspiring, descriptive and delicious blog (<a href="http://anecdotesandapples.weebly.com/1/post/2011/03/the-beloved-browns.html">http://anecdotesandapples.weebly.com</a>) where her words are as intoxicating as the food she makes. Even more than that, is the love that Monet spreads everywhere her written word appears. Her kind words and sweet spirit have lifted my heart more than a few times.<br />
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I've never met Monet in person, yet I feel such a connection with her as I know so many others do. So when I heard about the tragic accident that happened over the weekend to her sister and her sister's husband as well as her two nephews, I was shocked. How much more can this family endure? (read here, <a href="http://anecdotesandapples.weebly.com/1/post/2011/03/the-beloved-browns.html">http://www.caringbridge.org/visit/pamandmikebrown</a>)<br />
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So I sat staring at my computer screen, trying to make sense of what has happened to this family. "Why?" is the knee-jerk reaction. I think of Japan. "Why?" I scramble for a reason, something that comforts, something that hushes the deep questions that resonate inside when I hear about tragedy. It shakes my core. It throws a shattering piece of shrapnel through my spirit. Why this family? God seems so unfeeling. He seems so far away when this kind of news emerges. Is it because it's true or because we see only bits and pieces of the plan?<br />
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We cling to cliches like, "God is good...all the time" or "there's a reason for everything", yet none of us know what that reason is. Yes, at times, later on -sometimes much later on- we can see clearer and see some sort of Divine artistry, but at that moment of raw impact, we are left broken and hopeless and finding taking our next breath difficult and at times, less than desirable.<br />
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Sometimes things get worse. Sometimes they get very worse before they get better (pardon yet another cliche). And then, yes, then a crack starts to develop in the wall of protection we have carefully and vigilantly built around ourselves. A fissure that comes bearing a painful proposition...hope. <br />
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"Hope?" the heart blurts out, in hot anger and weary frustration. "No, I'm quite comfortable here in my cocoon of despair that I have created. And besides, Hope will require me to believe for better."<br />
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The heart desires Hope, regardless of what it may say or how it reacts. The heart lives for hope. It's how one reaches the shore of a land they cannot see or it's how a woman gives those final pushes in birth, when there is seemingly no strength left. Either hope of a new life or hope of a new life.<br />
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In this case, where that "new life" may begin is not ours to choose. It may begin in heaven, where all is healed and all is fresh or it may start again here on earth where a road to recovery is slow and hard yet victorious, either way, we are required to let go in some form.<br />
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And so we pray, we weep, we try to stuff the questions that arise away. We reach out, we help, we give, trying to bring some comfort. And it does. Because the most precious gift we can give to a family in this situation is support. When a community surrounds you, you no longer feel alone. You know you can take another step, even if it's scary or you don't know where the road leads, you can do it because others are around you. You see God's hands through those who feed you, wipe away your tears and hold you. <br />
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You may think it strange that I am incorporating potatoes into this rather deep Foodie House post. Well, I'm inspired by the way Monet writes and how she can creatively work a experience or story in with her recipes.<br />
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So Monet, if you are reading this, I would make these potatoes for you. Of course, not just potatoes, dear friend, I would cook you a whole meal, but these would be the comfort factor. I'm sure what you and your family are eating right now consists of cafeteria food and vending machine cuisine. How I wish I could come and bring you and your sweet family food, lots of hugs and a hand to hold...and maybe a pot roast.<br />
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These potatoes are homey and rustic. I simply crisped up the potato rounds in lots of olive oil and butter, thyme and rosemary.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrGg5xMnT1cIesPoZCltjsouVutgoPNcwwnhSZiXWlYe6PPVpVF1aitiXJf6hEF1lxCDHgJvM3_7kbFN8fSJVPkAwDDNr36UgXBEoSIb5kBlFXtCRn7YQ6dj8mUeyGckV6FTTPylECS0g/s1600/IMG_1169-1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrGg5xMnT1cIesPoZCltjsouVutgoPNcwwnhSZiXWlYe6PPVpVF1aitiXJf6hEF1lxCDHgJvM3_7kbFN8fSJVPkAwDDNr36UgXBEoSIb5kBlFXtCRn7YQ6dj8mUeyGckV6FTTPylECS0g/s640/IMG_1169-1.JPG" width="425" /> </a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <b>Crispy Rustic Potatoes</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">2 russet potatoes, baked</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">2 tbsp. olive oil</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">1 tbsp. butter</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">3-4 sprigs fresh thyme</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">2 sprigs fresh rosemary</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">salt and pepper</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgFJ9G6voHTZ-qg9llPlyjeYiaC9IKjgrqVr4fPMKtCvqvzKfCcDUEZS-WN1AWC1lLlIyf6m32-MMYJ0fuBXzR-m8Y-4sU8fcdYKc-aFWUcYT5JvfScgWr0gWoIfrCAyRc9J4b7hNZxUA/s1600/IMG_1180-1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgFJ9G6voHTZ-qg9llPlyjeYiaC9IKjgrqVr4fPMKtCvqvzKfCcDUEZS-WN1AWC1lLlIyf6m32-MMYJ0fuBXzR-m8Y-4sU8fcdYKc-aFWUcYT5JvfScgWr0gWoIfrCAyRc9J4b7hNZxUA/s640/IMG_1180-1.JPG" width="640" /> </a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Heat pan over medium heat with olive oil and butter. Add herbs and let them perfume the oils. Add slices of potato, season with salt and pepper and leave it for a good 5 minutes. Do not flip until dark golden brown and very crispy. Do the same on the other side. Serve with the herbs, for they are salty and crispy...delicious. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">So here is my challenge to you readers, share this link with others. Share the Caring Bridge link above with others. Let's get the word to get out. I want there to be an outpouring of love and support. Whether it's praying or donating (you can donate on Monet's blog or on the Caring Bridge site) or any other creative way you can think of. Let's lift this family up and breath hope into these weary hearts.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Love ya, Foodies.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01147344578518296814noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-708271966633841892.post-89522022545440382282011-03-14T14:43:00.001-05:002011-08-02T18:47:01.760-05:00Her Kitchen Reeked...of Chaos<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_SraLcvqlf_x-OTllp-gA376lT7hV1ffT90JAOuIlQmTrstNKuUzHgABXSEXIptPPm6yYNVGhT7TlUfWrLhyCaH_HxeAS47AteVT_3UcrcUttO3oc0nk-xfqTbgk7n3szIhMkiZ6levk/s1600/IMG_0456.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_SraLcvqlf_x-OTllp-gA376lT7hV1ffT90JAOuIlQmTrstNKuUzHgABXSEXIptPPm6yYNVGhT7TlUfWrLhyCaH_HxeAS47AteVT_3UcrcUttO3oc0nk-xfqTbgk7n3szIhMkiZ6levk/s640/IMG_0456.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>The dishes sat in the sink mocking her.<br />
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"Yup, we're going to be extra crusty in the morning," the cookie sheet said as it nudged the mixing bowl.<br />
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"Yeah, crusty dishes plus her coffee breath equals a grumpy mommy, " the mixing bowl mused. "You know how she hates the smell of her own coffee breath."<br />
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A coffee mug, buried deep beneath everyone, mumbled something but no one could quite make it out. And no one bothered to ask it to repeat itself.<br />
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A spoon poked it's head out to see if anyone had been loaded into the dishwasher. When it saw that everyone was still in the sink, it slowly lowered itself back down into it's hole for the night.<br />
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She had given up tonight. Normally, dishes were not left in the sink until morning, but tonight was different. She threw down the dish rag and simply walked away.<br />
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On top of that, everything seemed to need de-cluttering. The fridge was over-loaded with her children's artwork, coupons, birthday cards, invitations, to-do lists and moments of inspiration, jotted down on a scraps of napkin. She had gotten so used to looking at it, that she didn't realize how cluttered it had become until she took this picture.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj08NkqwOLo1HIxM8cA2ChkMa6g_KbyQOtelmDUpOWnUo-Oxjeb0DWOGxqpoghsFceuiphOMx1r2AjTRqsr4vIJur8Fmls9hBOlFUeJDdcJvcFyLlqAk1wJncu9FMEsJuG6Sch5V9xb4kE/s1600/IMG_0463.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj08NkqwOLo1HIxM8cA2ChkMa6g_KbyQOtelmDUpOWnUo-Oxjeb0DWOGxqpoghsFceuiphOMx1r2AjTRqsr4vIJur8Fmls9hBOlFUeJDdcJvcFyLlqAk1wJncu9FMEsJuG6Sch5V9xb4kE/s640/IMG_0463.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br />
She felt overwhelmed. That's why the dishes did not get done...among other things.<br />
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And this was a strawberry rhubarb pie that she was so excited about making that, though looking full of potential here, ended up accidentally under-cooked (she didn't take the time to carefully read the cooking time instructions...probably because her kitchen was in such utter chaos) and left a rather chewy, fibrous feeling in the mouth. Yet another reason she felt deflated and unenthusiastic about cleaning.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXIXCu0VfFqvVKJzsUFD9UPOwOdgjLO07lQMqyr_AohPMCjFmBcd3ouQrxZWEYxPKJ6je1RIZi9bHnNoFif46n08fgdT89x_7I6RSfYxjZtV-EQ7G74FEHFERBgsUfugpEkMZjeEOwxzs/s1600/IMG_0451.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXIXCu0VfFqvVKJzsUFD9UPOwOdgjLO07lQMqyr_AohPMCjFmBcd3ouQrxZWEYxPKJ6je1RIZi9bHnNoFif46n08fgdT89x_7I6RSfYxjZtV-EQ7G74FEHFERBgsUfugpEkMZjeEOwxzs/s640/IMG_0451.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>She felt very embarrassed as she wrote this post and hesitated to post it, but posted it nonetheless. The process of creativity is not always a pretty one.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGtlMcOpUUEa3rF2VK9kTrVxFYbKWF8ummCshVso3zylPpWF4EK0BVYOBy1-5uID4QFG21R3GlC6NbqZy5YHgTJx1aeA3Hna0xJ3gx6IRI0BzrrzTF499ODYDvoazji99hV7blZKx_eGU/s1600/IMG_0502.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGtlMcOpUUEa3rF2VK9kTrVxFYbKWF8ummCshVso3zylPpWF4EK0BVYOBy1-5uID4QFG21R3GlC6NbqZy5YHgTJx1aeA3Hna0xJ3gx6IRI0BzrrzTF499ODYDvoazji99hV7blZKx_eGU/s640/IMG_0502.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>Oh yes, and three other little reasons why she sometimes leaves the dishes in the sink, under-bakes a pie and dives head-first into a chocolate bar. But would she have it any other way? Most certainly not.<br />
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Now where's the chocolate?<br />
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Love Ya, Foodies!Laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01147344578518296814noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-708271966633841892.post-88904865788592114932011-03-08T07:08:00.005-06:002011-08-02T18:48:35.422-05:00My Film Debut, Dahhhhling!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLEXZdyEHB8IDSNh7epPmEJXk1cogPDuCVXwhDOUr4gbBYEdMyLEW-7yO-Jz8b_h7kZBSx8CG8HXdB9BnZd_wdFCvDvGa7DSXLlIg-Fk3jb-IXdfTXP1-caA4YbtQus3jhkQQZnMoQYNY/s1600/IMG_9467.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLEXZdyEHB8IDSNh7epPmEJXk1cogPDuCVXwhDOUr4gbBYEdMyLEW-7yO-Jz8b_h7kZBSx8CG8HXdB9BnZd_wdFCvDvGa7DSXLlIg-Fk3jb-IXdfTXP1-caA4YbtQus3jhkQQZnMoQYNY/s640/IMG_9467.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br />
I could sit here and moan and complain about how we continue to get bouts of sickness around here and how sick I am of being sick....<br />
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But instead I'm going to tell you about a little something special that happened to me a few weeks back.<br />
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I got an email one day, mid-January, from Alexa at Foodbuzz. She approached me with a quite delightful offer. She would fly out from San Fransisco to come to my little house in Kansas City, coordinate to have a PROFESSIONAL videographer show up, and have me star in two mini videos on how to make a video featuring Newman's Own products. Is there anything here I would object to? No.<br />
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A week later (yes, ridiculously fast) I welcomed Alexa and Adam (the videographer) into my mom's house- for she has a much cuter kitchen than I- and we set up to do these two super fun, silly and carefree videos to be sent out to bloggers in Foodbuzz's Tastemaker program.<br />
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Both videos are around 2-3 minutes in length. Take a gander! <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyKWPY6VHJRcDvg1ReUPL5Fq8XXmb2CGi171FodDAcfwi0My2NSaM7WAXprx2E_wWuJ35_YZKWSfdDzaOMYy9ZJna9q_zaYQyFkxgeBoxzxkUtwspJZHNmd8-3ZrpUqpXxszn36B5wuLI/s1600/IMG_9450.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyKWPY6VHJRcDvg1ReUPL5Fq8XXmb2CGi171FodDAcfwi0My2NSaM7WAXprx2E_wWuJ35_YZKWSfdDzaOMYy9ZJna9q_zaYQyFkxgeBoxzxkUtwspJZHNmd8-3ZrpUqpXxszn36B5wuLI/s640/IMG_9450.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><b>In this video, I throw together a delish pasta dish, featuring Newman's Own Sockerooni Sauce. I also do some silly things that are about as cheesy as the Parmesan cheese that I sprinkle over the hot rigatoni.</b></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #3d85c6;"><br />
<div style="background-color: yellow;"><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OhyAaQseYIo">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OhyAaQseYIo</a> </div></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><b>And in this video I make a super easy salad to go along with a Newman's Own Thin and Crispy Pizza. This one is even sillier and I show you what to wear and what not to wear in a video of your own. My mom made sure her stockpile of vintage clothing and accessories were available for our use in these videos.</b></div><div style="color: #3d85c6;"><br />
<div style="background-color: yellow;"><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O9IsWY-VjBg">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O9IsWY-VjBg</a> </div></div><br />
It really made me feel so special that they chose me to do this project. Here I was thinking that Foodbuzz hated my<a href="http://foodiehouse.blogspot.com/2010/11/pfb-challenge-7-emergency-cake-video.html"> <b>Emergency Cake</b></a> video for Project Food Blog, since that was the round I got sacked, but oh, contrare, they loved my video and chose me to do these Newman Videos based on that ridiculousness.<br />
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I'm used to setting up my little video camera on a precarious, teeter-y tripod, hitting "record" and jumping in front of it, to make my cheesy little cooking videos. I'm used to doing hours of editing and spewing very heated words under my breath until the video is done. I'm used to losing videos, videos not uploading and more than a fair share of "glitches in the matrix". This time? All I had to do was be in front of the camera. I didn't have to do any of that other crap. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMN55RLnC3wGGJfXlNR_XZ4FMN1b6-Vsc0jRHQ2bfOFnvfvljdU2_Q4X8VdbUTPETGkeV_9N_tRu4LZNnNLJJqaC4bzXoKsy5ngWf3Vl-6a5rtZz_9-5-HwCEleDHrFE6VNm5d-zoJ56k/s1600/IMG_9455.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMN55RLnC3wGGJfXlNR_XZ4FMN1b6-Vsc0jRHQ2bfOFnvfvljdU2_Q4X8VdbUTPETGkeV_9N_tRu4LZNnNLJJqaC4bzXoKsy5ngWf3Vl-6a5rtZz_9-5-HwCEleDHrFE6VNm5d-zoJ56k/s640/IMG_9455.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>See these two right here? Aren't they just darling? Alexa and Adam. Alexa was like a breath of fresh air, energetic and full of ideas and fun. Alexa and I were chatting like two high school friends, voicing ideas and thoughts, laughing our butts off and trying to focus on the task. Adam was laid back, super calm and just as sweet as he could be. That giant camera of his was staring me in the eyeball, stirring up a bit of nervousness, but Adam had this zen way about him, even the way he counted down to recording made me feel a bit better. He'd just say, "When you're ready." I was calling him "Yoda" towards the end of the day, for all his insightful comments that seemed to translate what Alexa and I were trying to say, in our chatter-y little way. <br />
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After sitting down and noshing on the product of the first shoot -the rigatoni- and drinking from the one and ONLY Taco Via cups (yes, that little lady logo stirs many childhood memories for me...mainly delicious, greasy, burrito bomb, Mexican food type memories.) we felt very at home with one another. Sharing a meal seems to break the ice and everyone relaxes. Or maybe it was the Taco Via cups, because we did laugh quite a bit over them and learned that Adam didn't really like Mexican food, to which, Alexa and I both gasped.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL6TNtMuK4yKPCezuE2c1oJB70AGm3z8YUzeHddwdDYRPanpxeGVXqRurFBS00syHvzKuyAUofLHZSAx4M26v_mCDaolWv0Wl_wcXyrnsiUgHs0FnVnhFAfDSN-Fzjsw0PwzZWWk4P3jM/s1600/IMG_9470.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL6TNtMuK4yKPCezuE2c1oJB70AGm3z8YUzeHddwdDYRPanpxeGVXqRurFBS00syHvzKuyAUofLHZSAx4M26v_mCDaolWv0Wl_wcXyrnsiUgHs0FnVnhFAfDSN-Fzjsw0PwzZWWk4P3jM/s640/IMG_9470.JPG" width="425" /></a></div>Okay, so this picture is a bit awkward of me (sorta look like I'm be dramatic about the salad or something...such a diva) but I like it because you can really see how cool that camera was! Isn't it so fancy? I was in awe of the quality of the video. It was so cool!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxfonw_G8wK4jiMj9Yedy4gAXClTpFYSBk_fKySEcQfDe6_VNsS-LGVkhokkPOtWdheaVnXvmfO6m5Cl_xiejNi1nh9YXFUFYf57kMh5j9TrYM6Aa5hEgwvJGN93SeNN0qEVsM8iN_9y4/s1600/IMG_9459.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxfonw_G8wK4jiMj9Yedy4gAXClTpFYSBk_fKySEcQfDe6_VNsS-LGVkhokkPOtWdheaVnXvmfO6m5Cl_xiejNi1nh9YXFUFYf57kMh5j9TrYM6Aa5hEgwvJGN93SeNN0qEVsM8iN_9y4/s640/IMG_9459.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>Alexa brought me a little treat from San Fransisco, a box of caramels. Six luscious caramels that I was not intending to enjoy so greatly or have to share so freely. I quickly offered up a piece to everyone and that was BEFORE I tasted them. After I tasted them, I wanted to reach down into everyone's throats and retrieve the golden, creamy, slightly salty treats. So I was down to three. I offered one to my mom, who graciously watched the kids all day for me so I could do the video, but was relieved when she said it would yank out her crown. So I still had three. I gobbled down two more and teetered on the fence of sharing the last one with the Hubs or not. I chose to be nice and shared, all the while I sat drooling and I watched him slowly chew that sticky piece of golden, creamy heaven.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsOpeTPnPn9XowPEC4vMmf-cFOZ-jUVcX-BSzbtJID5jVIlBq4eFf477B4OfORXG_simDl8GX4qFijvjkZkE23Azb8uRmJl7YVnHhedXy5_9JlrhoOsx18nfV8xmZcAnDLcaADBJDVHqo/s1600/IMG_9476.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsOpeTPnPn9XowPEC4vMmf-cFOZ-jUVcX-BSzbtJID5jVIlBq4eFf477B4OfORXG_simDl8GX4qFijvjkZkE23Azb8uRmJl7YVnHhedXy5_9JlrhoOsx18nfV8xmZcAnDLcaADBJDVHqo/s640/IMG_9476.JPG" width="425" /></a></div> So here's a crazy picture of me at the end of the shoot. I look like a crazed woman with a fork, which isn't too far from the truth, and just floating on cloud nine. I felt so energized, filled and excited that I got to do something I love (cooking and being a ham) and get to do that with such wonderful people! Thanks again, Alexa and Foodbuzz for picking me. Thanks Adam for being such a great videographer!<br />
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Sorry for such a delay...again, between posts, dear ones. It has been so insane with the kids. Winter always brings much sickness, but this year is really nuts. When the kids are sick and I am sick, my creativity goes down the toilet. All I want to do is sleep, but of course, we all know that doesn't happen with three little sick baby birds, right? <br />
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Love Ya, Foodies!!! (ahhh-choo!...excuse me.)Laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01147344578518296814noreply@blogger.com24tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-708271966633841892.post-43302669899002901302011-02-19T13:57:00.001-06:002011-08-02T18:50:39.841-05:00Snot Faucets and Other Insightful Things<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdklMBgJSFEkbpdS0_vIc1ctP4LZpzQIO-v-k0OAZX-94b-5zSG3qlmiOY-Zuzdn5F0Qd6rzRKWaci0x31VWIF93us2lW5hZK4spX23aNb3fSqS6K9-e-DuXNpNKgPKFCxAMWWOrMatnw/s1600/IMG_0081.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8Lirq86tsiD49FIOPgCEZJjKq1QyO3oL7V-nh-BV8elMumWjeU_xyDc7nUOw7nx_sPvKgVMOpiKOjCtSN-PCojebWSJ3gKt-d7hj0oqdWVTspON_5_wAEV1deQ9O8D4fP_MaDMcEzXss/s1600/IMG_0125.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8Lirq86tsiD49FIOPgCEZJjKq1QyO3oL7V-nh-BV8elMumWjeU_xyDc7nUOw7nx_sPvKgVMOpiKOjCtSN-PCojebWSJ3gKt-d7hj0oqdWVTspON_5_wAEV1deQ9O8D4fP_MaDMcEzXss/s640/IMG_0125.JPG" width="426" /> </a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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For the last two weeks we've been ever so sick. It was just a very bad cold. One child gets it, then generously passes it to the other via slobbering and coughing or sneezing or the ever popular and effective, sippy cup swap.<br />
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They have also been so generous to share their wretched cold shenanigans with their tired and adoring parents. It makes for really great parenting - to feel like crap and take care of other crappy-feeling children.<br />
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Often times when I see a cold is a-brewin' in one of the kids, I take extra measures to have them cover their face when they cough and sneeze and always wash their hands after blowing their noses. I will sometimes tell them not to hug or kiss their siblings (because they inevitably sneeze every time they go in for a big bear hug), which by the way sounds horrible doesn't it? But to be quite honest, all I can see when they are hugging or kissing is a good week and a half to two weeks of no sleep or very poor sleep in my future, hence the kibosh on affection.<br />
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All that being said, by the time I'm sure we are all well-infected, my rules and preventative measures go straight the window. I stop caring and finally realize, it's better if they all get sick at once instead of staggering it, because it shortens the window of sick.<br />
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How does one know that they truly are infected? I'll tell you, it's when you are buckling any one of your mucus-y cherubs into their car seats and get a big juicy sneeze right between the eyes. That is the moment when you realize, <i>it is now my time to keep a box of Kleenex in my mommy (or daddy) tool belt, that imaginably resides around my waist, along with herbal tea and ibuprofen. Ah, joy.</i><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgduPllMo2Zyrr3by0aj4_zKyiBwJ4Y18mLI9wwHrNV-WSTWGdkAzFIWHjKH4gEfRHgypZDRrxUSxxcp8CaR5wDDo7FR0QNc7d1N3frmmk9liJyxtU7bEzV_6ByaO2BoG_C461D5e8Qt9s/s1600/IMG_0088.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgduPllMo2Zyrr3by0aj4_zKyiBwJ4Y18mLI9wwHrNV-WSTWGdkAzFIWHjKH4gEfRHgypZDRrxUSxxcp8CaR5wDDo7FR0QNc7d1N3frmmk9liJyxtU7bEzV_6ByaO2BoG_C461D5e8Qt9s/s640/IMG_0088.JPG" width="426" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> Yes, you guessed it. That's a hair clip holding a Kleenex box to my hip. The only problem is that I thought of this <i>after</i> every one started feeling better.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Each child has a different nose-blowing style. Care to see the rundown? Of course you do.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV-QBjtm62dZx3hR7MN446hrgSprfBfvHH9H0LRthTr78s1iTHTsMhoJ3rOZQnx1g5UUBwCvms3x1q8mQiGwECb4sWHT03L3PInBj0bG4h5ZItVkwVYBMUkUU2CwL4RFEO6mLNQVpz4d4/s1600/IMG_0118.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV-QBjtm62dZx3hR7MN446hrgSprfBfvHH9H0LRthTr78s1iTHTsMhoJ3rOZQnx1g5UUBwCvms3x1q8mQiGwECb4sWHT03L3PInBj0bG4h5ZItVkwVYBMUkUU2CwL4RFEO6mLNQVpz4d4/s640/IMG_0118.JPG" width="426" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> She was weirdly reluctant about taking this picture (hence, the lack-luster approach to fake nose-blowing), but it's still fairly accurate.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Boo is a great nose blower. Forceful, thorough and completely unaware that she must cup the danging Kleenex up under her nose to catch the waterfall of newly expressed snot. Effective but very, very messy. Especially when she does this in the car and then hands you the soggy tissue while you are driving. To make matters more interesting, a quick look in the rear-view mirror reveals the dangling string of snot hanging from her top lip and her talking something like this, "Uh, Mommy? Uh...Uh...Ewww!!!" all while sitting very still as if she has a killer bee on the end of her nose. To which I respond with a fresh tissue wipage of the dangler, while driving in snow. Life on the edge.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsDHmOlwMyjaT4CcHJycP5e2-DZo2eP0J2ASapof9GUUlwG2eaKaZ9CCFQ0aIgXoBikxRvRd2xKa9RBn_0Te9JhMme2KUMUXqnUW8PSEfYcbdfqsLLwvSNl5_hXp1ioppKNuF9P5d945Q/s1600/IMG_0115.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsDHmOlwMyjaT4CcHJycP5e2-DZo2eP0J2ASapof9GUUlwG2eaKaZ9CCFQ0aIgXoBikxRvRd2xKa9RBn_0Te9JhMme2KUMUXqnUW8PSEfYcbdfqsLLwvSNl5_hXp1ioppKNuF9P5d945Q/s640/IMG_0115.JPG" width="426" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">This is not a very realistic re-enactment of the previous weeks activities. This was much more enthusiastic. Maybe I should try breaking out the camera the next time I ask him to blow his nose. </div><br />
Bubba is the reluctant nose-blower. You know, with all your mommy intuition, that he has a ridiculous amount of snot in his head but no matter how many times you ask if he needs to blow his nose, the answer is "no". He will, only if told, give a dainty, useless blow, just enough to rattle things around a bit and convince me that there is still SO much more to be expelled. But he just plain refuses. So I let him go on, talking like his head is in a bucket and someone shoved two cottonballs up his nose. How can one walk around with so much snot in their head, by choice? Does he not know the satisfying feeling of a momentarily clear head? I love blowing my nose.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvJB1BWfym6auvXaxZ3_GeSx141PH55rQ4_CDHJ6Ft73e7v8Np-AB_bI2S89CVEVpNeG2SUd71q2fSa_Za8Hi0uvqPlxhosMLYY0Y5jxkxREqaTmjKrEZOTzc1yI_3yxl0V0jZ4XwJKuw/s1600/IMG_0123.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvJB1BWfym6auvXaxZ3_GeSx141PH55rQ4_CDHJ6Ft73e7v8Np-AB_bI2S89CVEVpNeG2SUd71q2fSa_Za8Hi0uvqPlxhosMLYY0Y5jxkxREqaTmjKrEZOTzc1yI_3yxl0V0jZ4XwJKuw/s640/IMG_0123.JPG" width="426" /></a></div><br />
And then there is Tiny. Well, he's only 18 months old and is sort of understanding the concept. He only blows his nose when there is not a Kleenex within an 80 mile radius and it's usually into his hand AND it's usually when he's practicing blowing kisses, not sneezes. Pretty cute, really. But to get any real relief for him, I have to use the dreaded "snot sucker". Out of all my kids, he's the one that has done the best with it. He actually tolerates it. He doesn't enjoy it, but he will sit still for the duration. The best part is when he tells it "bye-bye" (which really sounds like "kye-kye") when it's all done. What amazes me is how small his head is and the enormity of his snot! Where does it come from?<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQg-FKtNSDZl-ds6X06LetleVPU1izTXIl97C-zF4QfzU43wiE2ov2vPe4TqfbKMaBdK8RTM2v6qR1nHBzdt3yAdrhaIFRL7Tyt9qhLCxQcYnwjq1FQhslI319qwXrjKPlpEFf60usfAA/s1600/IMG_0104.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="427" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQg-FKtNSDZl-ds6X06LetleVPU1izTXIl97C-zF4QfzU43wiE2ov2vPe4TqfbKMaBdK8RTM2v6qR1nHBzdt3yAdrhaIFRL7Tyt9qhLCxQcYnwjq1FQhslI319qwXrjKPlpEFf60usfAA/s640/IMG_0104.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> The cold accouterments.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div>I find that my once hyper-vigilant disease control has now been lowered to a simple snot inspection of the hands. If they don't have visible snot it's back to the sick pit (also known as the play room), if they do then a shoddy squirt of hand sanitizer and a cautionary warning "do NOT to eat it!" is issued, along with a quick wipe of a damp paper towel. Where have my principles gone?<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfMpedrtAl7QkQfmCSRHi5LxKlB-5PlWkRWFBJ1i99ld0F3VPY8DThQ5pi9D2Aw0N6Hja9yDW_ioWO-t1IBPntnJQdbBxkKEIb1bOZNJmBPpSMwyBSPPeqL1NACLzJU6ShFSUHu41tQC4/s1600/IMG_0111.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfMpedrtAl7QkQfmCSRHi5LxKlB-5PlWkRWFBJ1i99ld0F3VPY8DThQ5pi9D2Aw0N6Hja9yDW_ioWO-t1IBPntnJQdbBxkKEIb1bOZNJmBPpSMwyBSPPeqL1NACLzJU6ShFSUHu41tQC4/s640/IMG_0111.JPG" width="426" /></a></div><br />
<b>Other sick-time activities include (like a bad Time Life compilation C.D.):</b><br />
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-Cleaning things I wouldn't normally think to clean, like under Tiny's booster seat. The horror of dried bits of food from weeks ago and pacifiers? I don't even know how they got under there, for the space is so minimal I find it nearly a great work of art, on his part. It took a chisel and the better part of my afternoon to pry all disgusting food particles from the chair.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdklMBgJSFEkbpdS0_vIc1ctP4LZpzQIO-v-k0OAZX-94b-5zSG3qlmiOY-Zuzdn5F0Qd6rzRKWaci0x31VWIF93us2lW5hZK4spX23aNb3fSqS6K9-e-DuXNpNKgPKFCxAMWWOrMatnw/s1600/IMG_0081.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdklMBgJSFEkbpdS0_vIc1ctP4LZpzQIO-v-k0OAZX-94b-5zSG3qlmiOY-Zuzdn5F0Qd6rzRKWaci0x31VWIF93us2lW5hZK4spX23aNb3fSqS6K9-e-DuXNpNKgPKFCxAMWWOrMatnw/s640/IMG_0081.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br />
-You do really bad-mommy things, like, take your kids to the mall to play in the children's play area while they are sick. You are so insane with being trapped inside your house, with nothing but noses to blow and butts to wipe, that you exit the house, in frigid weather, cart them to the mall and dump them into the play pit. The whole time, you are thinking (or at least I am) what a horrible thing I am doing. I'm infecting all these other kids. Then I see that nearly half the moms there are wiping their kids snot faucets just as much as I am. So suddenly I don't shudder as much or hop up as quick, when Lily sneezes on the little girl with a puffy pink hairbow and Isaiah slides his sleeve across his slippery nose-snot.<br />
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-Lose track of the last day everyone had a bath.<br />
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-You cancel your son's birthday party twice...ugh.<br />
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-You do a lot of art projects that require painting with NyQuil and cough syrup. (Just kidding...we use paint, most of the time.)<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWrmZduIzbq-PKJgyHCQt2_rJYInCbiDazkmBFGE03UvGjA1gHR573UzNN6UJT6SiRz1aINAFdxqtCjBtpyZ3o18Z4Xw9aoh3Yv3gE3WaPD1PFfy8H_0QQFV1Aq0SbHu7sR31t3TIlRXc/s1600/IMG_0003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWrmZduIzbq-PKJgyHCQt2_rJYInCbiDazkmBFGE03UvGjA1gHR573UzNN6UJT6SiRz1aINAFdxqtCjBtpyZ3o18Z4Xw9aoh3Yv3gE3WaPD1PFfy8H_0QQFV1Aq0SbHu7sR31t3TIlRXc/s640/IMG_0003.JPG" width="426" /></a></div><br />
-You find yourself daydreaming about a Mexican beach and shrimp cocktail...and cocktails.<br />
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-Then you cry because you realize a vacation won't happen for years. <br />
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Do you see all the deep thoughts that occur when one is sick alongside their children? I'm sure you have some of your own. By all means, do share...<br />
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I hope this post finds you and your loved ones feeling healthy and ready for Spring. <br />
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Love ya, Foodies!Laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01147344578518296814noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-708271966633841892.post-40294989052237363742011-02-04T15:41:00.002-06:002011-08-02T18:51:32.708-05:00She's Got A New Attitude...On BloggingMaybe it was the impending blizzard. Maybe it was the meteorologist's forecasted foot of snow manifested outside my door, trapping me and my family in our house for 2 days. Maybe it was that the Internet connection has been less than stellar. Maybe those are all excuses for the real reason...<br />
Maybe I just didn't feel like blogging.<br />
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There. I said it. I didn't want to.<br />
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When I started this blog I was blogging everyday. I put immense pressure on myself to generate lots of content, leave comments on everyone's blogs and spend copious amounts of time on it. And it was good.<br />
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I was striving to get more readers. <br />
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I was stressed if I didn't post everyday. <br />
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I did the PFB contest- had a blast.<br />
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Then I got really tired. Pooped.<br />
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</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">We moved and I had time to think, because I didn't blog for 2 weeks. The first time since I started the blog. I was so concerned. What would it do to my blog? Would my readers forget me? What would happen!!! (dramatic music plays)</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">It gave me time to step back and think.</div><br />
Why do I do this?<br />
<br />
Is it a business? Do I get paid? No and, um, no.<br />
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Well, I slowly got back on the blogging horse, as it were, and started up again on January 1st. But I had realized something, I only wanted to blog when I FELT like it. That's the whole point of this blog for me- to be a creative outlet. Creative comes in spurts. It happens when it happens.<br />
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I felt burned out just writing about recipes all the time, even with the passion I have for cooking, I wanted to step out of a box.<br />
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Good blogging friends have given me sound advice, which was this: you can write about what you want, when you want, how you want.<br />
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</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">I've found myself apologizing, at times, for my blog being too "mommy" and not enough "foodie"! I mean, really? Why on earth am I apologizing? </div><br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">So now I am at the point where I haven't blogged for like 2 weeks...AND FOR NO REASON, other than I just didn't feel like it- that and I was more interested in some of my other passions like beadwork and crafting than blogging. I know, kinda dorky. I look like I belong in a nursing home with my afghan, cradled in my recliner, with my box of beadwork supplies and and cup of tea at night.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo0nGOLKXJRrhX_L6VS9RDnnMqtsYjJ92TcwMZONI0GJtSCgmPZnE52c840jN2hQL5lr0Gc8FvX9VznvsSXyyCywduM0sGFoTBAdXEQO9gxSVlvhphM_ShLRPMVAEUE4p0rte1TwHsfFs/s1600/IMG_9832.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" h5="true" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo0nGOLKXJRrhX_L6VS9RDnnMqtsYjJ92TcwMZONI0GJtSCgmPZnE52c840jN2hQL5lr0Gc8FvX9VznvsSXyyCywduM0sGFoTBAdXEQO9gxSVlvhphM_ShLRPMVAEUE4p0rte1TwHsfFs/s640/IMG_9832.JPG" width="426" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;">"Oh look! There's Grandma Lauren's little nest of beading supplies. How sweet."</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeTt_PhP1KjmrDAwfHk1tuUxVPg6tSuEFM-49d-NJv_P9SN48Xcp0s-vfSNm9IsEtDJoPCkfgmMMC3tO6npqx7EnsBTGAdI_nAYWxREtID25toatPci6JYo-GaDKrEazNvXvxMU3qq07M/s1600/IMG_9723.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" h5="true" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeTt_PhP1KjmrDAwfHk1tuUxVPg6tSuEFM-49d-NJv_P9SN48Xcp0s-vfSNm9IsEtDJoPCkfgmMMC3tO6npqx7EnsBTGAdI_nAYWxREtID25toatPci6JYo-GaDKrEazNvXvxMU3qq07M/s640/IMG_9723.JPG" width="426" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;">I was also very busy taking pictures of my beat-up kitchen chairs, with intentions of coming up with something "arty". Hmmm.</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIXn2ZNNw43IMVS4rIeqDR4_akEZPHdDv0J2MY9p9j049TtaJ0VTPDWpEkfjFng9fIgjqKbPgTJSO0iSgLwEwaVDlTe3IaS_sZWNnjV1ifnIBVkGSy-lwftl5ybLhJYCPUDitdA6EeFCY/s1600/IMG_9564.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" h5="true" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIXn2ZNNw43IMVS4rIeqDR4_akEZPHdDv0J2MY9p9j049TtaJ0VTPDWpEkfjFng9fIgjqKbPgTJSO0iSgLwEwaVDlTe3IaS_sZWNnjV1ifnIBVkGSy-lwftl5ybLhJYCPUDitdA6EeFCY/s640/IMG_9564.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;">I did come up with an egg-free chocolate orange bread pudding recipe for you. I know, you're thinking "Egg-free bread pudding? Aren't you missing the point?" But it was actually very good. Let me know if you would be interested in the recipe and I will post it. And no, that is not milk streaming from a cow's teat. Looks like it though, doesn't it?</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1xwOhczpvENeis4lCnPklv_GgqgOKULOMSg3ywrouyPlktpXRfE5APX2YRxmGL_7SxgTVzhEkmKoEvVt_ph3TZZeOoa5sB7oSBsrTW5ZXhO3SCF9eXhfwnUwev4mLQ5WoixB64QpjbcE/s1600/IMG_9660.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" h5="true" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1xwOhczpvENeis4lCnPklv_GgqgOKULOMSg3ywrouyPlktpXRfE5APX2YRxmGL_7SxgTVzhEkmKoEvVt_ph3TZZeOoa5sB7oSBsrTW5ZXhO3SCF9eXhfwnUwev4mLQ5WoixB64QpjbcE/s640/IMG_9660.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;">I was also making my children pose in frigid weather...with sticks.</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH_cwz5QuKSRL7U_7z2tyQ9uPTTodjrkVFuH5RR1FdQuvSdatWtI_QRd1k2pZObhDBgevAY33H0FH1wqfC5mIjoZemKpGampIomj9z-5yyXkolwmeAy5ziBqBKY1rWxwJHkSeNKLQ0Ttc/s1600/IMG_9790.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" h5="true" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH_cwz5QuKSRL7U_7z2tyQ9uPTTodjrkVFuH5RR1FdQuvSdatWtI_QRd1k2pZObhDBgevAY33H0FH1wqfC5mIjoZemKpGampIomj9z-5yyXkolwmeAy5ziBqBKY1rWxwJHkSeNKLQ0Ttc/s640/IMG_9790.JPG" width="426" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">And I was REALLY busy watching the Hubs do manly stuff like shovel snow in a blizzard. What a man.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">I was tired of balancing my laptop on my lap (with my afghan while reclining) and trying to crank out a post in the evenings when I was so exhausted from the day. All I wanted to do was zone out and watch Gordon yell at people. (Ramsey, silly. Not just any Gordon.) But I will admit, there is nothing quite like hitting that "publish" button. That is a good feeling to be sure.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">So chime in. What do you think? I mean, what drives you to blog? Do you put yourself on a schedule? Does it help you? Is your blog that important to do such a thing? Do you ever feel overwhelmed by your blog? If so, why do you think that is? Is it pressure from others or yourself? Is what I am saying utterly ridiculous?</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">You know, it like that saying, (I think it's a saying anyways. I say it a lot) "As the pendulum swings..." Meaning, you go from one extreme to another until you balance out. I started out as a psycho blogger, now I'm plain, straight-up "on-strike" blogger. I'll find my middle. Until then, you'll never know when I will blog next. But if I'm not blogging, you know what I'll be doing...</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Love ya, Foodies! Good to be back.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
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</div>Laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01147344578518296814noreply@blogger.com26tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-708271966633841892.post-60937140998862300142011-01-20T07:31:00.002-06:002011-08-02T18:51:56.247-05:00PMS Risotto<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghMTU1KPAD3oFadlUbNtw5o0UOHxBLKrEPbDCKZZRqAWEVXbXmfSseF5LlDAIRLclFxpenqSdDCws9K32UvncVB1se7hUJQQI4gfnRE7T_wZoDPD3ln67xRhrmHq8aOgiFmR2fZzR9TKc/s1600/IMG_9175.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" s5="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghMTU1KPAD3oFadlUbNtw5o0UOHxBLKrEPbDCKZZRqAWEVXbXmfSseF5LlDAIRLclFxpenqSdDCws9K32UvncVB1se7hUJQQI4gfnRE7T_wZoDPD3ln67xRhrmHq8aOgiFmR2fZzR9TKc/s640/IMG_9175.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Yes, ladies, you heard me right. Men, don't run away just yet...no one's going to make you run to the store to buy anything "embarrassing", but you may get sent to pick up these few ingredients for the following recipe- which, I may add, is not embarrassing at all and completely manly.</div><br />
Most women I talk to seriously crave chocolate that time of the month and I am definitely one of them. I mow through chocolate bars, while drinking hot chocolate. Suddenly, I will have visions of a plate of brownies hovering right in front of me. Sometimes I will, even with cramps and a cranky disposition, break out the mixer at 8 p.m. and whip up some chocolate chip cookies. All of which, the Hubs is happy to help me consume. So for all my snippy comments, waves of emotion and frustrated murmurings, he does get some tasty desserts out of the whole deal.<br />
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I saw this recipe on the Cooking Channel the other day and was, of course, whisked away into a chocolate fantasy. I mean, why not turn your favorite comforting savory dish into a chocolate-laden, luscious dessert? Thanks to David Rocco, it was.<br />
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<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">It truly is fantastic. So creamy, so rich and the perfect amount of sweetness. Its so comforting that it will, for a moment, whisk away those crabby feelings.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">If you are a menu planner, you know where to put this on the calendar...</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHxJYRRW0VJtBjrPxeP6JeMBTpGu55wkd8fkxHah3rdrlmrqxJmEBdVcb5g28UO5J8-TkQ8BFRYSDd4VPPk8MSf-DcRDltV9YNQ6-7IRGm2zK0CParhxQEKIKCSHeYgiZxPjzjF_RMfro/s1600/IMG_9185.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" s5="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHxJYRRW0VJtBjrPxeP6JeMBTpGu55wkd8fkxHah3rdrlmrqxJmEBdVcb5g28UO5J8-TkQ8BFRYSDd4VPPk8MSf-DcRDltV9YNQ6-7IRGm2zK0CParhxQEKIKCSHeYgiZxPjzjF_RMfro/s640/IMG_9185.JPG" width="425" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I'm feeling lazy today. Here's the link to the recipe: </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><a href="http://www.cookingchanneltv.com/recipes/risotto-al-cioccolator-chocolate-risotto-recipe/index.html"><span style="font-size: large;">Risotto Al Cioccolator</span></a></b></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhArvgr5yKc84Qq7UwJnZ52AZfSsAEjAE2kr-qxRQmKDS3imIrzvXNE8bDdKpj1wALjGv_b5dbFqdIvmTXEIaaYI6mytEnZnvwAsVHyFu2mFAhkwqmtTkeFxZ-CqMDrUs1riN_cTZqKbAI/s1600/IMG_9188.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" s5="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhArvgr5yKc84Qq7UwJnZ52AZfSsAEjAE2kr-qxRQmKDS3imIrzvXNE8bDdKpj1wALjGv_b5dbFqdIvmTXEIaaYI6mytEnZnvwAsVHyFu2mFAhkwqmtTkeFxZ-CqMDrUs1riN_cTZqKbAI/s640/IMG_9188.JPG" width="426" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Love ya, Foodies!</div>Laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01147344578518296814noreply@blogger.com22tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-708271966633841892.post-37429006812648119502011-01-17T07:14:00.002-06:002011-08-02T18:53:29.209-05:00Green Monster Pizza<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPGTQSRjqBFAFzc4y-aALsyFSwMGMf3lOSHNCYyyRe57QAqajzhUFVl1bLzgVmHjwU-Ksq_vnoe0LGACN4Wj2kJjSigrdK75cLSSdQE_gPjgwkfXZYRBzzOyy7NOYnU-FgquFw7p6YvIg/s1600/IMG_9381.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPGTQSRjqBFAFzc4y-aALsyFSwMGMf3lOSHNCYyyRe57QAqajzhUFVl1bLzgVmHjwU-Ksq_vnoe0LGACN4Wj2kJjSigrdK75cLSSdQE_gPjgwkfXZYRBzzOyy7NOYnU-FgquFw7p6YvIg/s640/IMG_9381.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Do you ever have this happen, where you see just the tail end of a recipe on a cooking show and you find yourself "winging it" in the kitchen to recreate what you <i>think</i> you saw? That's sorta how this came about...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I had seen Giada making what I thought was a pizza with some sort of green cheese mixture for the base. I couldn't get it out of my head and rather than Google it, I decided to just try and make up my own. Besides, it's so much more fun than following a recipe, right? </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Problem is, when you "wing it" it tends to be more experimentation than getting it right the first time. And sometimes it means that things happen that you don't expect. It can also mean that you end up with a giant mess in your oven of burnt, molten cheese mixture. Yum.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I should have photographed the oven after this venture. Actually, it's probably still there...ehm. I don't clean my oven. I just wait for it to burn away. Sad but true.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Although, the mess was so bad I had to scrape the pizza stone of some of the bigger bits, so I didn't set the smoke alarm off. You know it's bad when you are opening your windows in 10 degree F weather to air out the kitchen. My poor little children were shivering like Oliver Twist in an alley way.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">So anyways, the problem was that this cheese mixture, although thick and dense when cold, turned into a river of cheese pouring over the sides of the crust when hot. Part of the messy problem was that I applied way to much. When I put less, it was much better.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8A5GAvT3KX__lOTZHqYy2NaMFZxcu0AI9iSQUQy9etMcaslA5YIpzEAvWvo1n_M24kxE9cWJQFfaGNnPrGUL9IGZT-PVRE3D9f0CGoZbSj62hySV46KcqAgtov4jSKztOZZoAh6FfzwQ/s1600/IMG_9344.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8A5GAvT3KX__lOTZHqYy2NaMFZxcu0AI9iSQUQy9etMcaslA5YIpzEAvWvo1n_M24kxE9cWJQFfaGNnPrGUL9IGZT-PVRE3D9f0CGoZbSj62hySV46KcqAgtov4jSKztOZZoAh6FfzwQ/s640/IMG_9344.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The cheese mix</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhega_2OaaPRf1qnssyLIlbJIPWjdZbKP5KWVBlefWGR46zdl0fyvCB0_isDSFdkjmhTkfJ5Cn62hXFpotry0oj7Zz8wXc0lIN9jSlUPR07K8T9zJaQvMqbA0ma4YaxPdA0dP0g0hQrPVA/s1600/IMG_9346.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhega_2OaaPRf1qnssyLIlbJIPWjdZbKP5KWVBlefWGR46zdl0fyvCB0_isDSFdkjmhTkfJ5Cn62hXFpotry0oj7Zz8wXc0lIN9jSlUPR07K8T9zJaQvMqbA0ma4YaxPdA0dP0g0hQrPVA/s640/IMG_9346.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Strewn pizza dough awaiting rolling and baking in a 550 degree oven. Looks a little scared.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnIqidT9vnCeFpfN-iSvlxcR2lRRySLrIfahmjJPEj0TPMTMf9LkRDEWUwU29ekEwZl9qYDBRuh-m3IAgP4cfMsc_8Hi6Pczr1GkrrIpKLnydRArdEsZc-2PNhrPofqN8GKwPh2LZpRC8/s1600/IMG_9347.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnIqidT9vnCeFpfN-iSvlxcR2lRRySLrIfahmjJPEj0TPMTMf9LkRDEWUwU29ekEwZl9qYDBRuh-m3IAgP4cfMsc_8Hi6Pczr1GkrrIpKLnydRArdEsZc-2PNhrPofqN8GKwPh2LZpRC8/s640/IMG_9347.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Delicious little bits of chicken Italian sausage, also awaiting searing hot oven heat.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaj0inHGTbnV_UmjJ1ohYMJFzcPGkSgL3cgpaJv0kodLyMHQgwPuz9oMYVtScdDD_lHlEnG9lrbUE0wCWxZzgtyfvK3ZTpVApraPzU-293Gr65LsUqRGnpqGSx_Cgoty68UdbLcs42zMI/s1600/IMG_9348.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaj0inHGTbnV_UmjJ1ohYMJFzcPGkSgL3cgpaJv0kodLyMHQgwPuz9oMYVtScdDD_lHlEnG9lrbUE0wCWxZzgtyfvK3ZTpVApraPzU-293Gr65LsUqRGnpqGSx_Cgoty68UdbLcs42zMI/s640/IMG_9348.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I think this was the third pizza that Bubba and I made. It grew a tumor of sorts while baking and of course, it's grotesque physique found it's way into Bubba's heart and stomach.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8DgKjRFfxQNgUDC_yhBhzn0r2K3Upjmg1-AWiaqh6VjJ8xEvD3TaO3oJJx3yNdTzRbYBvhAF4-yjQmoR8yeb9sGfzihJPjK-oYUqcoPML2o3cMnEW3GQAVudlSFKZE21sEdRGfy_NPhA/s1600/IMG_9356.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8DgKjRFfxQNgUDC_yhBhzn0r2K3Upjmg1-AWiaqh6VjJ8xEvD3TaO3oJJx3yNdTzRbYBvhAF4-yjQmoR8yeb9sGfzihJPjK-oYUqcoPML2o3cMnEW3GQAVudlSFKZE21sEdRGfy_NPhA/s640/IMG_9356.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Proud owner of the pizza tumor.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji4jhFxHFEHfQq7G5mTVr5ZDzpDc0LffhoZ3xRZmlji7cdi8Xx14PTutkc5VxAHx3BIQcJvs7_haeJYXm28Af401PujupXHOIkDK7y-ty-fM3t0hqUca4CDMrGW-VLCenzRiNPX0DSAbk/s1600/IMG_9358.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji4jhFxHFEHfQq7G5mTVr5ZDzpDc0LffhoZ3xRZmlji7cdi8Xx14PTutkc5VxAHx3BIQcJvs7_haeJYXm28Af401PujupXHOIkDK7y-ty-fM3t0hqUca4CDMrGW-VLCenzRiNPX0DSAbk/s640/IMG_9358.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Tackling it...</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLBm9uwbSKOEsoTDq1u1swuTyhTMP5KpLZ9hCvCSCRmumRv1cLxdFJw1wCRkir_wyv8pzt85swBR0evHCH_5CjjD16zSijR8JQ75W_saICQxX3kGWzRtwo403s8nCMEJomXluKpdpXQfc/s1600/IMG_9373.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLBm9uwbSKOEsoTDq1u1swuTyhTMP5KpLZ9hCvCSCRmumRv1cLxdFJw1wCRkir_wyv8pzt85swBR0evHCH_5CjjD16zSijR8JQ75W_saICQxX3kGWzRtwo403s8nCMEJomXluKpdpXQfc/s640/IMG_9373.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Boo is on an anti-pizza run. She used to like it. None of us know where it all went wrong. So she was eating a turkey sandwich- a dismembered turkey sandwich that is.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG0jEuqx9gcuvrhGLwu6otJdtd9WKHbeZrnoebGcPqn951H9JypuL1qYtBDdgjB1ArTg2Uxvrp6aOe-9NZ0NQ7UQjjh8D1ZOrWBvMsK5R5RfIifg93bBVoMaadAbIYt9qxUKIsvJpJbpc/s1600/IMG_9375.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG0jEuqx9gcuvrhGLwu6otJdtd9WKHbeZrnoebGcPqn951H9JypuL1qYtBDdgjB1ArTg2Uxvrp6aOe-9NZ0NQ7UQjjh8D1ZOrWBvMsK5R5RfIifg93bBVoMaadAbIYt9qxUKIsvJpJbpc/s640/IMG_9375.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Who needs teething toys? In this family our babies cut their teeth on stainless steel mixing bowls, guaranteeing a foodie future.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo2r9pm-_6Z59rlgffO2lsHaunIL7DDUykR9UHiaWXXlXciYflT_6vxzEyGCr7Q_ffMyq3ydKcEDXdvr8qGXgky5ZR0acXpPDiOz9dNxLun_ego9XuvShCg8lnVachqlNyF1uTkZO2sSM/s1600/IMG_9379.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo2r9pm-_6Z59rlgffO2lsHaunIL7DDUykR9UHiaWXXlXciYflT_6vxzEyGCr7Q_ffMyq3ydKcEDXdvr8qGXgky5ZR0acXpPDiOz9dNxLun_ego9XuvShCg8lnVachqlNyF1uTkZO2sSM/s640/IMG_9379.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Tiny's transferring all his cubed pizza bits into the bowl and back onto his plate and not eating much of anything...ah, toddlers.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPGTQSRjqBFAFzc4y-aALsyFSwMGMf3lOSHNCYyyRe57QAqajzhUFVl1bLzgVmHjwU-Ksq_vnoe0LGACN4Wj2kJjSigrdK75cLSSdQE_gPjgwkfXZYRBzzOyy7NOYnU-FgquFw7p6YvIg/s1600/IMG_9381.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPGTQSRjqBFAFzc4y-aALsyFSwMGMf3lOSHNCYyyRe57QAqajzhUFVl1bLzgVmHjwU-Ksq_vnoe0LGACN4Wj2kJjSigrdK75cLSSdQE_gPjgwkfXZYRBzzOyy7NOYnU-FgquFw7p6YvIg/s640/IMG_9381.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Either the last one or first one of anything you make seems to be the best. This was the last of 4 pizzas and it turned out pretty nice. How I love making pizzas...I could make pizza all day long.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Green Cheese Mixture</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">*Note: Since, like most foodies, we are in the business of "winging it" these are approximate measurements, so use your best judgement. Taste and taste again, until it's how you like.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">1 cup cottage cheese</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">1/2 cup Parmesan, grated</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">1/2 cup low-moisture mozzarella</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">1 good fistful of fresh basil leaves</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">3 roasted garlic cloves</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Salt and pepper</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Throw it all in the food processor and make into a paste.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Toppings:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Go wild, but I used the browned chicken Italian sausage bits and fresh tomato. Use the cheese mixture as the "sauce" and don't use too much, if you know what's good 'fer ya.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">For the pizza dough recipe and video, <a href="http://foodiehouse.blogspot.com/2010/06/small-dough-nation.html"><b>CLICK HERE!</b></a> Its super duper easy. I know the recipe says it makes enough for 2 pizzas, but I got 4 smaller ones out of it as well. My oven is smaller than my last one, so I had to adjust it. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Love ya, Foodies!</div>Laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01147344578518296814noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-708271966633841892.post-57778868468981863942011-01-08T20:20:00.001-06:002011-08-02T18:55:35.352-05:00Drinking It Up<div class="" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;">Coming home means lots of things. One of those things is revisiting places near and dear to my heart. Places where childhood dreams were born, creative whims were inspired and waves of comfort come in the form of a perfectly poured latte- and not one from Starbucks.</div><div class="" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_KxFVV3EoqkEMGqoycPa4HOJCc2bPkAWC_h6Trn9b3j5typMCCsvxBNRsIQuh8EHx5uyd-IyCsiXjFE_GLg3dEm1rY0_iwDaz6u6LBceI3AM8-5HoSYzKHqznWjW1PqSaQjNDm8cAfJw/s1600/IMG_9131.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_KxFVV3EoqkEMGqoycPa4HOJCc2bPkAWC_h6Trn9b3j5typMCCsvxBNRsIQuh8EHx5uyd-IyCsiXjFE_GLg3dEm1rY0_iwDaz6u6LBceI3AM8-5HoSYzKHqznWjW1PqSaQjNDm8cAfJw/s640/IMG_9131.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I squealed with delight when the barista handed this to me...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiud7g01PaFJytufzoOQ1Y6P_3q-JJQ51ijripd0fbBZPYdo24AOCyxWExU5wLz337-ByRU-C4EWnqGtROhcAbhTe_j1Fj1XVSGpYjGqQV4kAKZEcsmJbi0_94ghDMr3qgeYv9sKqy_G6M/s1600/IMG_9133.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="475" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiud7g01PaFJytufzoOQ1Y6P_3q-JJQ51ijripd0fbBZPYdo24AOCyxWExU5wLz337-ByRU-C4EWnqGtROhcAbhTe_j1Fj1XVSGpYjGqQV4kAKZEcsmJbi0_94ghDMr3qgeYv9sKqy_G6M/s640/IMG_9133.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;">and I think he thought me a little strange for doing so, but I didn't care. This was a Latte Land latte. I only know of them in K.C. You must know by now, my love for small, non-corporate coffeehouses. They also had wonderful molasses ginger cookies that went perfectly with my luscious, milky drink.</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;">Last weekend, mom and I took a little jaunt down to the Plaza, here in Kansas City. If you haven't heard, it's one of the most beautiful places in K.C. It's over 75 years old, with fabulous architecture, shopping and an overall sense of beauty everywhere you look. </div><div class="" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;">Kansas City is second to Rome in the fountains department (sorry no pictures of any, as they are all shut off for the winter. When they come back on I will do a post on the fountains- they truly are spectacular.) There are breathtaking sculptures which are studded in and around the entire Plaza. They pop up where you least expect, like 'ol Benjamin Franklin there. I took the time to interrupt his reading of the Declaration of Independence by sitting on his knee in my "Buffalo Coat"- as the Hubs likes to call it. The coat makes me feel lumpy- not quite sure if that's a good thing.</div><div class="" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ6JE7E4s9qMT26tNCxmk5cumA0_mC6Pr0eg4cFaJwkK8KzbX3ue0zLmsiw_6x6kscAGrRvzCdHMnNrXTINqEPVInWcE49S_aWHUsG-M-Ih5BOaOpwciDP3CQjXc3mbc4UdaWzyXcdqo4/s1600/IMG_9138.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ6JE7E4s9qMT26tNCxmk5cumA0_mC6Pr0eg4cFaJwkK8KzbX3ue0zLmsiw_6x6kscAGrRvzCdHMnNrXTINqEPVInWcE49S_aWHUsG-M-Ih5BOaOpwciDP3CQjXc3mbc4UdaWzyXcdqo4/s640/IMG_9138.JPG" width="425" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;">Isn't Ben cute? Notice the store that is directly behind him? Yes.</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG7jrMDvH_z9v9uHhmePE_nbuJpvgQihQLMjqRPePS14opRe9Ym3NLQOIr6Pr4v3KQ9bJwKidEVEzr0Ac0zbvDxoBPZIQK7_4omtVrHtGeVMHM8nVO4km-fgtw9c9lK95szvrhI1jMG4E/s1600/IMG_9140.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG7jrMDvH_z9v9uHhmePE_nbuJpvgQihQLMjqRPePS14opRe9Ym3NLQOIr6Pr4v3KQ9bJwKidEVEzr0Ac0zbvDxoBPZIQK7_4omtVrHtGeVMHM8nVO4km-fgtw9c9lK95szvrhI1jMG4E/s640/IMG_9140.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;">Mom had to pose with the birds. I really like this picture of her. She's so cute.</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZZVRwy363DHIdUwheJyU5tg34wUlGMuFMjBd6cDpEuspOktfI2dssqckC8p4PvZT63muHq87gZ3f7VRPrLejEjCQ2XUcYEiyElj8HdJg-POw1I2bDMTHRQUb3pp3hQ3RPnLD5HIlET3o/s1600/IMG_9163.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZZVRwy363DHIdUwheJyU5tg34wUlGMuFMjBd6cDpEuspOktfI2dssqckC8p4PvZT63muHq87gZ3f7VRPrLejEjCQ2XUcYEiyElj8HdJg-POw1I2bDMTHRQUb3pp3hQ3RPnLD5HIlET3o/s640/IMG_9163.JPG" width="425" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;">I mean really...this gorgeous sculpture was at the entrance of the parking garage! So beautiful.</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;">I could say something about "buns of bronze". Okay, so I did. They <i>are</i> really nice buns.</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"> Now a visit to the Plaza just wouldn't be complete without an in-depth browsing of my absolute favorite store, Anthropologie. I walk into that store and get inspired from the top of my dish-water blond rooted head down to my un-pedicured toenails. The colors of the dishware to the styling of an apron (which I have a penchant for) simply sends me. I must smell every available candle and touch every fabric. I try on all hats regardless of price. I purposely comment every time that <i>when I am rich someday, I will wear all clothes from Anthropologie and decorate my house to look like one of the stores</i>...every time.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBgRquBjQStss0ZdUSVhyf94MVex2rb-DudIHfhZCRrxl6h1b4QrPiDztGt9Y4WbEV53r8UnfqA4yAi5rgX7r6biqeNVNtw-6enea8pJbygmm-JPPwxbpzIuRcLa-5VE9Y0iiDRei-1Fw/s1600/IMG_9141.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBgRquBjQStss0ZdUSVhyf94MVex2rb-DudIHfhZCRrxl6h1b4QrPiDztGt9Y4WbEV53r8UnfqA4yAi5rgX7r6biqeNVNtw-6enea8pJbygmm-JPPwxbpzIuRcLa-5VE9Y0iiDRei-1Fw/s640/IMG_9141.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Teacups...another "penchant" item.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicjcR9w_jrwTJhJolexcP8mqzjPHYyVapEd4XtFNbuAk4PioB7mvRVJLlnGAaMVlQHYOpVns8PBkzy89kZqDKxgNeDpkpV1i6R-PwtF2Gh2-SDpdpRkraueRgXAZFG1879EFjodmcUQf8/s1600/IMG_9145.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicjcR9w_jrwTJhJolexcP8mqzjPHYyVapEd4XtFNbuAk4PioB7mvRVJLlnGAaMVlQHYOpVns8PBkzy89kZqDKxgNeDpkpV1i6R-PwtF2Gh2-SDpdpRkraueRgXAZFG1879EFjodmcUQf8/s640/IMG_9145.JPG" width="425" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Love.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkvWgwB0A_irM9dfOe1shJC4afcKrc8LkerKKxZK003ApXX3nXuoNgXR3kilwlojCvHDqIggEFTAdFUqtQ5XTWggGbgfMOoc8mMSA3-P67OC-aN8RjdO2w5Syi4yoK9ZPdDyrUTQ8iUzE/s1600/IMG_9146.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkvWgwB0A_irM9dfOe1shJC4afcKrc8LkerKKxZK003ApXX3nXuoNgXR3kilwlojCvHDqIggEFTAdFUqtQ5XTWggGbgfMOoc8mMSA3-P67OC-aN8RjdO2w5Syi4yoK9ZPdDyrUTQ8iUzE/s640/IMG_9146.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Who wouldn't want a set of these?</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcCnDZzc0Qc11sTD0CFNNL8uScSBVI3FB-qlnNSLbsc_Gz97nkt4rybDebMYn0stiGA8ytuJFCpBw6Fut9ffafgdmqrVeu6QGZgUPku3DDJ1a4hrNoNpe0i3rBmTd6avG0UQ-dBswsdHU/s1600/IMG_9150.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcCnDZzc0Qc11sTD0CFNNL8uScSBVI3FB-qlnNSLbsc_Gz97nkt4rybDebMYn0stiGA8ytuJFCpBw6Fut9ffafgdmqrVeu6QGZgUPku3DDJ1a4hrNoNpe0i3rBmTd6avG0UQ-dBswsdHU/s640/IMG_9150.JPG" width="425" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I needed a little drool trough for the saliva that came rolling over my lip and onto my shoe. I can't stop thinking about these little glasses.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">So my dear Foodies, that's a mini tour. We've merely scratched the surface on the Plaza and I will surely be doing more posts on it. The Hubs and I had many dates there and he proposed to me at an adorable little restaurant called the Classic Cup there. I feel a Valentine's post coming on....hmmm.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Love Ya, Foodies!</div>Laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01147344578518296814noreply@blogger.com13