Okay, so I’ve been getting a little side-dishy lately. We’ve made Butter & Wine Roasted Mushrooms, Bourbon & Honey Glazed Carrots and now I’m punching you in the mouth with these Brussels Sprouts. Thanksgiving is upon us in less than a week, and I just want to make sure you have some bangin’ gluten-free side dish selections to accompany what is sure to be a hefty meal of turkey and all sorts of other incredible things. Is it weird that I am drooling just thinking about it? I plan to imbibe with a Pomegranate Margarita (or two) as well as sink my after-dinner teeth into one of these Gluten-Free Buttermilk Apple Hand Pies. Yes, yes. You guessed it. I will be wearing something spandex. Continue reading →
It’s my drink of choice. I’ll take it on the rocks, mixed with pineapple juice, in a Manhattan or in one of these Ginger Fizz Cocktails. I’ll find excuses to slip it into whipped cream or cookies. I’ll even find an excuse to put it on vegetables. That’s what you’re currently looking at. A way of infusing that awesome, rich, bourbon flavor into roasted veggies. I’m realizing now these past few sentences make me sound like a real lush. Ugh. I don’t even know. But, bourbon…let’s get crazy and pour it on some carrots and see what happens. Continue reading →
Meticulous measurements are not my thing. I’ve been known to “wing it” when it comes to cookies and the like. This is where you pick out a recipe and use it as a very loose guideline. It usually involves extra cinnamon and way too many chocolate chips. Perhaps this stems from my distaste for word problems or anything math. Or, perhaps it goes back to my inherent distaste for being told what to do. As a child, I once willfully poked a fork into my eye, simply because my mother told me not to. I wore this misdeed in the form of an eye patch for a few weeks while the puncture wounds from the tines healed. Not kidding. Continue reading →
I’ve been sitting here trying to write this blog post for the last twenty minutes or so. The things I typed out onto the page are suspicious at best. There was this whole bit about a Sailor appearing out of nowhere and taking us to Margaritaville. A boozy nautical kidnapping if you will. There was an entire paragraph where I described what this margarita would be wearing if it were a super hero. For some reason it had a sombrero made of limes. There were tights. There was a cape. His super powers included staining your clothes and getting you drunk. I don’t even know anymore. This week has been a doozy.
Somewhere between starting this post and the last string of deleted sailor and superhero metaphors, my spirited Golden Retriever managed to find her first mud pit of the season. She usually never comes inside when I want her to, but of course, today, with pride in her eyes and paws full of mud, she charged me. She ran puppy laps around the couch. There were expletives. There were paw prints. There was me, on my knees, scrubbing a carpet and carefully removing chunks of earth from it’s fibers. There was a guilty puppy face. There will be a Friday night steam cleaning party. Continue reading →
This effort was thwarted once I looked over at the bowl of neglected produce on my counter. The delicata squash made eye contact with me and got real. “Hey, G… I’ve been sitting on your counter for TWO weeks. What-chu gonna do about it?” Jeez. Sassy squash.
Ok, ok… so, the squash didn’t actually speak to me due to its lack of communicative parts and bits (i.e. I’ve never met a squash with lips–have you? If so, email me PUH-LEASE–I wanna hear all about it) but my own produce guilt did create a dialogue between myself and this neglected squash. I’ll spare you the details, but basically, the squash got sassier and sassier until I promised to help her fulfill her delicious little squash destiny. In this process I also got bullied by a very pushy apple. She wanted in on the action. I said yes. Continue reading →