Supah Fudge Brownies…

I haven’t always been a big fan of sweets, and chocolate in particular never held much allure until recently. Those commercials where the actress takes a bite of a cocoa-confection and gets just a liiiittle too excited still repulse me…

“All you need is love, but a little chocolate now and then doesn’t hurt.”
-Charles Schultz

but I think that’s more the absurdity of the message they’re trying to push: candy is life changing [read: all women are sad sacks with chocolate fetishes].

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Get Pinspired…

“Let them eat cake!”
-Marie Antoinette

Pinterest has gotten its talons in me pretty deeply… I could spend hours and hours browsing online, only to discover that I’m still sitting in my fuzzy bathrobe, sallow-skinned and red-eyed at 3pm. On a week day. My self-imposed pintervention took place when my sister tried to show me her favorite DIY craft projects and I had to casually pretend that I hadn’t already seen every. single. one. of. them.

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Phyllo-Wrapped Asparagus with Sesame Peanut Sauce

“Work! Labor the asparagus me of life; the one great sacrament of humanity from which all other things flow…”
-Sean O’Casey

I have found myself less and less compelled to cook lately and therefore, not compelled to write at all. While I do enjoy making meals for my roommate, I recently came to the conclusion that I just miss cooking for my boyfriend… Then I looked around and realized that I had sent myself back to the 1950s, so I fixed my hair, popped a mother’s little helper and tried to think of a dish that I could load with butter._

Just to clarify, I’m joking about the drugs and fixing my hair.

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The Lazy Lady’s Version Of Pumpkin Cannolis…

“Hey, aren’t you going to stay to greet the Great Pumpkin? Huh? It won’t be long now. If the Great Pumpkin comes, I’ll still put in a good word for you!”

-Linus, It’s The Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown

Pumpkin Cannolis made with Ice Cream Cones


_ _ The absolute hardest part about trying to write on a regular basis for this blog, is coming up with something to SAY. I’m constantly trying new recipes, taking pictures of the food and making them usable for the site, but then they just sit on my desktop, mocking me: “Write something, dummy! Your two readers are waiting with baited breath!” I’ve always had trouble with the follow through, and my room is a testimony to this—stacks of unread books have been deposited next to my bed; three water glasses are currently sitting on my dresser (where I moved them from my bedside table) because I told myself that if they were a little closer to the door, I would remember to bring them down to the kitchen; and a pile of unfolded, clean clothes is in the corner, from which I continue to pick out one garment at a time as needed… But, perhaps to shut me up after all my whining about not having a job, the universe has sent me two awesome employment opportunities, so I’m trying to do the things that I’d previously been putting off before my life gets crazy, including posting some new recipes.

_ _ Although I was looking forward to the Fall, Colorado has thrown me a curve ball and went straight from Indian Summer, to hail and freezing rain, but I won’t be dissuaded! I’m going to continue to make food that involves an inordinate amount of apples and pumpkin and anything peripherally related to sweater weather.

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Homemade Fried Dough

“When Squire Cass’s standing dishes diminished in plenty and freshness, his guests had nothing to do but to walk a little higher up the village to Mr. Osgood’s, at the Orchards, and they found hams and chines uncut, pork-pies with the scent of the fire in them, spun butter in all its freshness– everything, in fact, that appetites at leisure could desire, in perhaps greater perfection, though not in greater abundance, than at Squire Cass’s.”

-George Eliot, Silas Marner

Fried Dough


_ _ Every year at the end of July, my hometown of Ithaca, New York comes alive… The aging hippies put down their bongos, pull on their Birkenstocks, and pile en masse into rusty Volvos to make the drive out to Grassroots, a music festival featuring both famous and local (but mostly local) artists. As a teenager, I used to drive out and hop the fence because tickets were too expensive for me to afford on my dishwasher’s salary, but as the years passed, security got tighter and I was politely escorted from the premises more often than I got to stay… Damn the man! Grassroots, and, by the transitive property, summers are now inextricably linked, in my mind, with zydeco music, dancing shamelessly, muddy feet, and the constant concern that so many people could not know how truly awful they smell… oh, and fried dough. It used to be that I only could get fried dough at places like Grassroots or state fairs, but I realized the other day, to the detriment of my waist line, just how easy it is to make at home.

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Excellent Day To Run A New Metaphor Up The Flagpole And See If Anyone Salutes…

“He ate a supper of soup and cornbread with them that night, at the table in the middle of the kitchen. They’d had plenty of soup left from the day before, and Janey had made the cornbread herself, though it was never as good as her mother’s, which her mother always found ways to point out.”

-Marlin Barton, Into Silence

Individual Blueberry Pies


_ _ One of the last nights out on the town with my boyfriend before he deployed to Afghanistan, we found ourselves at a bar in Colorado Springs that served buckets… yes, buckets… of booze. In honor of this great country, Nick decided to get the bucket with “red, white and blue” drink in it (whatever deadly concoction that consisted of). As he and his friend drank from the bucket, they became increasingly possessive of it and began telling people that they would NOT share, because they were defending “Amurrica”! I’m also fairly confident he got a couple of hapless bar-goers to salute the Amurrica bucket… Nick didn’t appreciate it when I asked why he was pronouncing it that way… He’s from Connecticut.

_ _ As the 4th of July approached I became increasingly excited to make a ton of BBQ-style food, and in turn, increasingly depressed as I realized that I still don’t have enough friends in Colorado to have a proper get together. So, much like my Valentine’s day this year, I invited Ana over to be my little guinea pig for some new recipes. Nothing makes me feel more American than over-consuming, watching cable TV while I digest, and then getting terrible road rage as I try to find somewhere to park and watch some patriotic fireworks! Hooah.

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