Every time I see someone post a picture of a green smoothie that contains avocado, I squirm. Avocados are for guacamole. You put them on top of your toast and sprinkle it with sea salt. You can totally sub them in for mayonnaise and make a Green Egg Salad. But, smoothies? Really? Is it a guacamole smoothie? I’m not sold. Why is this happening? I just can’t hang. I’ve been mistrusting of any and all humans that have muttered the words “avocado pudding” or claimed to make a great “vegan avocado brownie”. Shudder.
Like most of my food aversions, I decided to just dive right in. Challenge accepted. Guacamole smoothie, I’m coming for you.
My first avocado smoothie was horrifying. No joke. It was pretty much all veggies with half of a frozen banana. It tasted bitter. I spat it out. I felt sad. This smoothie was supposed to prove me wrong. It was supposed to be life-changing and wonderful and simply everything. Perhaps I put too much pressure there? Probably. No matter. As I spat out the evil green goo I had foolishly concocted in my Vitamix and watched it slink down the drain, it started a fire inside of me. A metaphorical fire. A smoothie-revenge-fire. An I-will-totally-win-you-fire. Avocado smoothie, you will be mine. MUAHAHAHAHA! (Dastardly avocado whispering evil laugh) Continue reading →
How is everyone’s guacamole hangover going? You know what they say… the best way to cure a hangover is to eat some guacamole in the shower. Or was that drink a beer in the shower? I can never remember. Perhaps do both to cover your bases. Tortilla chips in the shower are not recommended, however, as they tend to get soggy when mixed with water. You’re going to have to go at it with a spoon. NBD.
When you are a kid, there’s pretty much no vehicle more awesome than an ice cream truck. It’s sugar on wheels. I remember the ice cream truck targeting our neighborhood since it was filled with kids. My brother and I would perk up, then in a joint effort run to our parents. “Can we PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE get some ice cream?!” It was as if nothing else mattered and maybe we could possibly die if ice-creamy goodness did not hit our lips in the next two minutes. Sometimes the ice cream truck would travel to our house close to dinner time, and the answer would be no. In these cases I remember the world ending a little bit. There was some light pouting, maybe some foot stomping. My brother, who is six years younger than myself, would either follow my pout-y lead, or in a true act of excellence THROW himself on the floor. We were dramatic. Mom ignored it. Good move, mom. Imagine what we could do if we had an audience! Continue reading →
You know that moment when you open your eyes and you can feel that your face is puffy? You reach over to your nightstand in hopes that your fingers will meet a glass of water, but instead you just end up unplugging a lamp, knocking off an alarm clock and dropping your cell phone. The headache sets in. A headache that can only be described as “this is what happens when you mix champagne with gin.” Or, “this is what happens when you mix half a bottle of champagne with gin.” OR, “this is what happens when you mix half a bottle of champagne with gin, eat animals from both land and sea, have butter as a legitimate side dish, swear you are not going to have dessert and then eat half of a chocolate bar, pass out on the couch in a sloppy champagne fueled coma” situation.
Sounds like another successful Steak and Lobster Day (or shall I say “Valentines Day” for all you non Steak and Lobster-ers). The husband got home a little bit early. We cooked together. I spiced up the steaks and got to work on our side dishes. I whipped up a mashed cauliflower with garlic and wilted chard situation as well as a Greek salad. Peter cooked our meat to perfection, melted some butter and mixed us some cocktails. I had planned to get a bottle of wine at the grocery store, but in my intense steak and lobster excitement I managed to forget. Instead, we went rooting through our cabinets and found a a bottle of champagne. We then proceeded to make ourselves French 75′s. This is a cocktail that combines gin with champagne (yes, this might be a red flag). Of course once we opened the bottle of champagne we decided that we could not let it go to waste (Perhaps we are the red flags?). Continue reading →
It’s been cold and damp outside for a long time now.
Our backyard is in a perpetual state of wetness. The earth is cold and crumbly. The rain stopped a while back, but the mud just hasn’t recovered.
I’m painfully aware of the state of my backyard because I have a puppy and a white carpet.
Perhaps it was after this morning’s shenanigans where my muddy dog came tearing past me into the house, running laps and dodging my attempted side tackles, leaving a trail of her dirty feet like a horrifying dance-step diagram, that I really started longing for warmer and drier days. She is currently on time out. She seems pleased with herself as usual.
It was at 8:30 this morning, on my hands and knees, cleaning up a trail of muddy paw prints, I started fantasizing about luxuriating out in the sunshine and sipping on mojitos and piña coladas. Continue reading →