Oh, so you thought you might be able to get through this whole Thanksgiving season without me putting bourbon in something? Nope. You thought wrong. I can’t help myself. At least we’re throwing it onto some veggies, right? It’s only polite to get our vegetables a little bit drunk, and we’re nothing if not proper hosts.
By now you’re probably trying to finalize which method you’re going to use to cook your turkey. Perhaps spatchcock-ing? Perhaps deep frying? Maybe an adventure in Turducken-ing? The world is your
oyster turkey tail.
There are lots of decisions to be made. Like, are you going to put bacon in your brussel sprouts? You probably should. Or, is it a good move to make your own pie crust? If you have the time, I totally vote yes. Or, should you sit your cranky Aunt Millie next to your cousin’s new boyfriend who curses like a sailor? Probably. Do you mess with the way your Italian grandmother insists on arranging the peppers on her requisite antipasto plate? NEVER. Don’t touch that. She’ll smack your fingers with a spoon. I know this from experience. Do you still allow the relative who can’t remember to refrigerate anything to bring a mayonnaise-based dip? Yikes. Who doesn’t love a gamble? So many decisions. Continue reading
I usually feel this way after a holiday full of cookies, a birthday full of cake, or a vacation where I’ve favored margaritas over food groups. Or, heck… sometimes there’s no explanation at all. A girl just needs a serious veggie-vention (like, intervention…but, with veggies. It’s a stretch. I know) from time to time. It’s in these moments that I find myself with insatiable veggie cravings. Like, standing at the kitchen counter shoveling handfuls of plain spring mix into my mouth. Or, shotgunning carrots like a frat boy would do beers. So, I figure I might as well stop grazing like an uncontrollable fridge-savvy rabbit and get down with a giant salad instead. Continue reading
Unfortunately, I will not be serving up any kind of witch fingers with almond fingernails, or a jack’o’lantern that is vomiting guacamole. Today there will be no graham cracker cookies that have been turned into bloody band-aids (yes, this is a real thing I saw on Pinterest), and nothing that feels like an eyeball in your mouth. Call me the Grinch of Halloween, or simply call me someone who doesn’t like to eat things that resemble blood, vomit or eyeballs. It’s a personal preference. I think my childhood self is disappointed in this whole paragraph. I used to be really big on the whole “peeled grapes feel like eyeballs in the dark” thing. I guess I’ve gone soft.
My husband just informed me that the above paragraph makes me sound really grumpy. Apparently he’s on team guacamole vomit. Oh, well. At least we both agree that leftover peanut-butter cups need to be eaten swiftly, blamelessly, competition style– straight from the trick or treat bowl. Marriage is all about compromise. We do what we can. Continue reading
I started this week off by washing my face with shampoo. Well, technically it was both shampoo & conditioner since I have a sweet all-in-one-lazy-girl-combo. No, this was not intentional. It was confusing to have such a thick lather on my eyebrows and cheeks. Even though this is my usual gentle facial cleansing routine, it took too long for me to figure out that something was amiss. Finally, the light bulb went on after experiencing the mind-blowing-sizzling-shampoo-induced- inferno burning up my eyeballs. I think this set the tone for my week. Yep, it’s been great. I don’t feel crazy.