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Continue reading “A Tip Of The Tipsy Hat To You Sandra Lee…”
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_ _I have a statement of heresy to make: I do NOT like breakfast… Bring on the Spanish Inquisition. Well ok, I do like breakfast foods, just not before noon. If that means I have to sleep half the day, so be it; if it means I have to eat “breakfast” and lunch within an hour of each other, I’ll suck it up and suck it in; I’ll loosen the drawstrings on my $10 Target pajama pants—which I wear the majority of my time at home—and get cooking. Welcome to my world of lunch and dinner-breakfasts.
_ _This was a breakfast casserole that my mom made for Christmas this year. I couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow when she told me that what was coming out of the oven was “an egg and tortilla casserole.” My gag reflex may also have been triggered. But don’t let that terrible name dissuade you. It’s ridiculously light and fluffy and cheesy and… amazing. And that is a major endorsement coming from me. Although normally I would take a cheeseburger over pancakes any day, I got the recipe from her and have already made it twice since then.
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“Part of the secret of success in life is to eat what you like and let the food fight it out inside.”
-Mark Twain
Gingerbread Cookies
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_ _I think most adolescents have the shared experience of stealing their parents’ magazines; hiding them under their bed or between the mattresses; reading them by flashlight under the covers; praying they won’t get caught. Except the magazines that I found myself taking were especially depraved… They came from the twisted mind of a one Martha Stewart. Seriously sick stuff. I can only blame her for my unceasing need for meticulous perfection. As my friend Sam once told me, “You have an amazing attention span for the most ridiculous things.” And I’m proud of it, baby.
_ _So what if my sister came home, saw these masterpieces and called me a psycho; so what if my boyfriend’s family didn’t believe I had made them myself; so what? They were delicious, beautiful, and they were devoured. Thanks Martha, ya deviant.
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Parmesan-Rosemary Risotto
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_ _Overall, I would consider myself to be a fairly rational person; I’m a recent college graduate (I see you sneering at my liberal arts degree… sssshut up) and I try to think through any major decisions. But I have what can only be described as cheese-related dementia. I have three true scenarios and a mini pop quiz for you:
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1. When I was 13 I developed a severe lactose intolerance. At my best friend’s weekly pizza-and-ice-cream movie night, did I a) resist temptation and stick to my toast and Lactaid milk; or b) insist on eating at least half a pie, a gallon of mint chip, and spend the rest of the evening crying in the fetal position… every time?
2. Last week I came home and realized I literally only had bread, cheese and beer in the fridge (sorry mom). Did I a) walk the one block to the grocery store and buy loads of fresh, organic produce; or b) sigh, make an “aw shucks” hand gesture– to hide my glee, in case anyone was watching– and whip out the fondue pot?
3. During an overnight shift swiping cards at the dorms last semester, I called in an order for Domino’s “cheesy bread sticks.” When they were delivered, I discovered that although one side was cheesy, the other side had been covered in cinnamon-sugar. Did I a) grumble and toss it in the trash; or b) pause for half a second of contemplation before proceeding to devour the entire loaf?
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_ _If you know anything about what a disgusting human being I am, you answered B to all of the above. As I wrote that last bit I realized I should be far more embarrassed about it than I am… Basically this was my long way of explaining why I’m obsessed with this creamy, cheesy risotto. Granted, my anecdotes may have made you question my judgment in regards to… everything, but I don’t care. More risotto for me!
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“Nothing would be more tiresome than eating and drinking if God had not made them a pleasure as well as a necessity.”
-Voltaire
Carrot-Ginger Soup
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_ _I went through a phase last winter during which time every dish I made turned out to be red or orange. They just felt so festive and in the desolate wasteland that is upstate New York in late February, you take what colors you can get. When you’ve dragged yourself home through the gray, slushy snow, and your commute has taken 30 minutes longer than necessary because Cornell students cross the streets en masse without even a glance to make sure that there isn’t a Mack truck barreling down on them… *deep, gasping breath after that run-on sentence* A hearty, spicy soup is the perfect antidote to the blues. Nom nom nom.
LIFE SHOULD TASTE GOOD... cooking for an army of two 
