Warm Brussels Sprout Salad With Roots, Radishes & Toasted Coconut

This bowl of veggies speaks to my seasonal confusion. Warm brussies at the bottom, watermelon radishes chilling on the top with roots, macadamia nuts and toasted coconut. It’s some sort of a fall meets spring culinary mullet. Business on the bottom, party on the top. But, I’m not complaining. If I have to stare at a mullet of any kind, I choose this one. Or, one of my Dad’s headshots from the 80’s. He had a glorious and naturally curly mullet. The photo is in black and white, with a soft glow emanating off of his ringlets. It’s really something. So, I should change my statement and say that if I have to stare at a brightly colored metaphorical mullet, it would be this salad. You know, since my preferred black and white mullet slot is already taken. I like to clear these things up. They feel important.

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Crispy Chicken Skillet With Artichokes, Beets, Lemon & Olives

Oh, hey there. Long time no chat. Where have you guys been? Oh, wait. You’re saying it’s my fault we haven’t talked in a while? Correct. Guilty. I’ll fill you in on the gaps. I got glutened (oof!). Got better. Got the stomach flu (double oof!). Got better. Made crispy chicken in a skillet. Now, we’re all caught up. That’s the really quick version. The longer version involves unsavory details, profanity and drinking my weight’s worth in liquids. The same pair of  large grey sweat pants adorning my hairy unkempt legs. Also, I’m totally caught up on all the trash television. So, if you wanna gossip about what’s happening on The Bachelorette — I’m your girl. Don’t even get me started on the guy who claimed to be an Amateur Sex Coach. The whole thing just makes me feel really weird. Also, if you’re not watching Married At First Sight, I don’t know what you’re doing with your life. Probably living it. I should probably take off these grey sweats and join you. This chicken is a step in the right direction. Chick it out. Get it? Like, check it out… but, with chick, because chicken puns. You’re welcome to throw stuff at me now. Or, if you want it to really sting, just silently yet aggressively face palm in my direction. Good. That’s perfect.

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Herb & Garlic Crusted Eye Of Round Roast With Orange Chimichurri Sauce

Sometimes you gotta take the day slow. Breathe. Allow yourself the be lazy. Watch some terrible television. Zone out. Meditate. Allow your dog to lay her whole body on top of your body and snooze. Maybe this is just what I’m telling myself. Maybe It’s the late afternoon and I’m sitting here typing while wearing a negligee over a pair of hopelessly baggy sweatpants. Maybe my hair is not washed. Sometimes Wednesday just wins and you have to surrender to its midweek slump.  That’s what’s happening over here. But, while I’m busy nailing the position of hot-mess-blogess, and girl-covered-in-dog-hair, I can also be busy nailing this Garlic & Herb Crusted Eye Of Round. It takes only a little bit of prep, and spends most of it’s cooking time just sitting in a cooling oven. I might not be able to handle showering before 4pm today, but I can handle lazily cooking a piece of beef. We all have our priorities. Mine seem to strongly align themselves with meat making it’s way to my face. […]

Grain-Free Ginger Cherry Berry Scones

A couple of weeks ago, I found myself sulking outside of a local bakery. This isn’t a gluten-free bakery, but they do make a fantastic gluten-free scone. I arrived too late in the day, and as usual, they were completely sold out. However, my wheat-eating husband bought himself some ridiculous looking apple-stuffed, almond-stuffed, hopes and dreams-stuffed croissant. I was irrationally upset about this situation. I could feel my blood pressure rising as I watched bits of pastry flake off onto his shirt, and tiny bits of apple adhere to his adorable mouth corners. All I wanted was a scone. I briefly considered not eating breakfast at all. How could I? I had been dreaming of that scone for… well, at least the last thirty minutes. I could taste the flaky bits of berry filled dough in my mind. No other breakfast would measure up. I was on a scone only hunger strike. I was quickly becoming an insane person. This happens when hunger sets in. I’m still myself, but the drama is cranked up to eleven, and the tears start to nag at my ducts, begging to be released. It’s as if I’ve melded my physical person with the frenetic emotional instability of Buster Bluth, and the overly emotive face of Oscar The Grouch. If you’re wondering, my husband really loves when this happens (he doesn’t).  May I remind you that all of this is happening OVER A SCONE. Ugh.  […]

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