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.
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Ever have those moments in life where you realize your vegetable consumption is WAY too scanty?
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. […]
I’ve caught the meal prepping bug.
My work from home lifestyle is great on so many levels, but I find that it’s SO easy to forget to eat lunch. This isn’t good. Hanger isn’t cute, especially my hanger. It’s usually outfitted with a scowl and tears. This is not the face that my husband likes to come home to. Ol’ Scowly Tears. No. I do not like that nickname. Let’s prevent that from becoming a thing. […]
Brussels sprouts, oh how I love thee. It’s taken us a long time to get here, but I’m so glad we did.
When I was a kid, I was fairly certain Brussels sprouts were evil. These were clearly tiny cabbages made of nightmares, sent here to earth by aliens in order to slowly poison us humans (I’ve always has a slight flare for the dramatic). It’s not that my parents were forcing me to eat them. Quite the contrary. We never ate sprouts at home, ever. I think my parents were also skeptical that these lil’ veggies weren’t indeed just the devil neatly disguised in a tiny cabbage suit. If my mom (the Lima Bean Pusher) was skeptical of a vegetable, I was pretty sure it must be heinous. The only time I had fully experienced the Brussels sprout was through a friend. I was staying the night at friends house, and her mother insisted I eat my vegetables before I left the table. I thought, sure. Fine. I love veggies. This should be no big deal. And, then it happened. A slotted spoon emerged from a pot of lightly stained green liquid. A mushy pile of lifeless sprouts made a sad little mountain on my plate. These sprouts were boiled to disaster. They were bitter and mushy. I had entered into my own nightmare, and the only way out was with hasty large bites and a lot of water. Awful. […]
