It doesn’t always have to be Mac & Cheese, Biscuits or Doughnuts (even though, #OMGYumGetInMyFace). To me, comfort food often means making Kalua Pork in my crock pot, or simmering Red Wine Braised Short Ribs on the stove. It’s therapeutic food that cooks slowly and fills up your house with the most delightful aromas, in this case BUTTER. It’s the kind of food your grandmother would make. The type of meal that you’d want to eat after coming home from work on a rainy day. You know, it’s comfortable. Comfy. Like sweats, but edible. (I should have quit while I was ahead with the descriptions…Oh, well.) Continue reading
It’s been a week. The long kind. Not all bad, but totally long. I’m sitting here finishing this post that was meant for a Saturday on a Sunday night. Looking at that dreamy beach-y photo from my recent getaway in Carmel and feeling a slight case of the Monday dreads. How, oh, how is it already Sunday night?
I YOLO-ed this weekend (are we still saying YOLO? I didn’t get the memo). There was sunshine and hiking and lots of time with our big golden pup. I ate pumpkin pie for dinner on Friday. I snuggled the husband. Watched a coming of age movie about some bird nerds. I planted some spinach. I ate more pumpkin pie. I purchased a new handbag for the first time in three years. I vowed to said handbag that I will never let it fall victim to a forgotten black and smashed banana (like so many purses before it). Oh, and I intend to eat more pumpkin pie right after I press publish. Okay… so, maybe my weekend was less YOLO and more YOPT (You Only Pie Thrice).
In other news, I’ve compiled this sweet list of things and peeps and funnies that’s got me straight crushin’. Enjoy! Continue reading
It’s Wednesday. It’s totally time to TREAT YO’ SELF.
We’ve been keeping things pretty savory lately with Soy & Ginger Crock Pot Ribs and Tomato & Coconut Chicken Curry. There’s been oodles of zoodles. Some with peanut sauce. Some with pesto and roasted tomatoes. And while we can probably all agree that savory flavors are their own treat, I think we deserve something sweet. That rhymed. I feel like a culinary Dr. Seuss. Plum Galettes here and there, Plum Galettes everywhere. Do you like my hat? I do not like your hat. Goodbye. Okay… did I lose you? I read a lot of Dr. Seuss as a kid.
But, back to treats. I’m here to help. I’m bringing you a recipe for some hot n’ sassy plums nestled all comfy-like in a butter-laced almond meal crust. Oh, and I’m totally giving away a copy of the book that inspired this fine creation. See? Treat. Yo. Self. Continue reading
You guys. I just got back from vacation!
This body got out of the Bay Area and headed to a resort out in Carmel Valley. I spent three glorious days with my husband in celebration of our third wedding anniversary. It was amazing.
There was a couples massage, breakfast in bed, sun-soaked naps after swims in the saltwater pool, more naps, lots of laughing, cocktails, wine, steak, and creme brule. We didn’t bring a computer. We put our feet in the sand, and our toes in the ocean. We honored our annual tradition of each writing a new set of vows, and reading them to each other someplace beautiful. This year it was on a hilltop that looked out at mountains. Despite it being acrazy and unexpected year, it’s in these moments together that I feel like the luckiest. Spilling the contents of our open hearts and holding hands (maybe with a side of light sobs–because, feelings). Gosh, I love this man of mine. This is getting mushy and wordy. I could write a whole post about this vacation. Maybe I will. You can see a few snaps of our trip on Instagram. Continue reading
Perhaps you wander over to the meat counter and pick out two very thick, very juicy, very pricey New York Steaks. Surely this is enough meat to quell your suspected protein deficiency. But, no. You glance over at the sale sign. You see full racks of ribs. You grab one and put it in your very full basket of meat. Did I mention that the only reason you meant to come into the store was to get a can of coconut milk? This is why you opted for the basket. One item. No biggie. Now you look down at a heavy basket brimming with steak and ribs (and ground beef, and chicken — I told you, it was a meat-spree). The check out clerk looks at you like you should be ashamed. He’s most likely vegan. The kind of dude that has carrots tattooed on his forearms. You like him. He asks if you’re having a party. You simply say “A party of two”. He gives you a very distinct look, communicating with garish certainty, “you’re going to die”. The only response to this in that moment is a very toothy grin. Continue reading