Deep dish quiche. That’s what we’re talking about here. It’s like we’re just hangin’ in Chicago eating quiche type quiche. And let me just tell ya this. Plz use instant polenta. Nobody wants to lose those 10 minutes whisking when it can be already in the oven, ya dig? Also, this quiche is my favorite and I kinda want to make it again as soon as it’s gone. I also want to make a for…
But for real… how do you say “gratin”? Does it rhyme with rotten? Is it more like afghan, but French-ish and without the “f”? Honestly, when I was telling people what I was making I felt like a weirdo. Like when you read a word a bunch but never say it out loud so when you do realize you don’t really know how to say it after all. But silly pronunciation aside, this gratin isn’t…
Sunday dinner was a big deal growing up. After church you eat a full meal. Main dish! Sides! Dessert! No nonsense. Even now my grandma will ask, “But who do you eat Sunday dinner with?!” And I usually tell her that my Sundays are normally full of brunch, bike rides, and rarely a big sit-down lunch with family in church clothes followed by dessert, coffee, and naps. This last Sunday was different though. I made a…
I’ve been trying to pay attention. To notice the moments where I feel happy and just live in them, ya know? Way back in June when I made the asparagus remix to this quiche I remember feeling super happy whisking the polenta for 10 minutes. Whisking is total zen. We’ve talked about this before, I think. But back then was a tricky time for me. I felt kinda lost and sort of unsure of what…
This quesadilla is an ode to BFF dinners passed. You see, my friend Katie and I used to get a meal like this out on the town now and then. And looking back, I still think fondly on that damn quesadilla, but I feel even more fond of a similar dinner made in my own kitchen. Then, and only then, can I trust what’s happening on these cheesy wedges filled with spinach dip, ya know?…
How’d you spend your weekend? I spent mine cutting a sizable zucchini into burger patties, going to a dance-y music yoga class (They played Mariah Carey Fantasy last week!) and livin’ my life watching Breaking Bad on Netflix. (Ugh, Walt is the worst.) You see, I like for my Saturdays to include a morning walk ending in a bagel picnic and for my lunch to be one worth dropping the L-bomb about. Because, the truth…
This guy would win in a sandwich battle wrap, that’s for sure. Imagine this rainbow dinner on stage rhyming with Eminem or whoever, ya know? It’d be like, “Yo, I know I’m a sandwich, but don’t disrespect. I’m a dinner worth eating so let’s be direct. I’ve got mad flava’ so get ready to sava’*. I’m no average meal, don’t save me for lata.” And then the other fella or lady would probably just go…
I’m really trying to notice when I’m feeling happy and content and stuff. I’m doing my best to just take note of it, you know? Embrace it even. Whisking the hell out of this polenta for 10 whole minutes made me super happy. I was smiling and whisking and whisking and smiling. You see, I was up early getting this brunch pie together and brewing coffee. I didn’t even have music on and the windows…
Oh man, this is a sandwich in a mac & cheese outfit. These little nuggets taste exactly like a monte cristo! I mean, it’s totally a pasta miracle. And if you guys don’t want to fry this up, it’s ok! I know it’s early-ish on in the year and we’re trying to be health-concious. So, if you don’t want to fry it, then don’t bother. Bake it up and enjoy straight away, but just know…
While making this pizza I thought of a joke… It goes like this: Which cheese is the loneliest? (Any idea? Do you know!?) ProvALONE. Boom. … And then I realized that’s not how you spell it. It’s provolone. Shucks. Worst joke ever? Maybe, because of the whole spelling issue, it’s the kind of joke that can only be told aloud. So anyhow, I had a pizza like this at Roberta’s in New York and I loved it.…