I’ve officially turned into one of those women who looooves going to Target. I honestly used to despise going there (it felt too errand-y), but two days ago I went for a very short list of things and then went INSANE! I had to use every ounce of self-control in my body not to spend like $500 on random shiz that I totally felt like I needed/wanted/needed. Throw back Lisa Frank folders were speaking to me. And I mean…the cosmetic section? Wha! Amazing, hello! Their Nate Berkus home stuff? Like, really really cute. And their bathing suits? Not too shabs at all.
Their summer stuff section made me so excited about 4th of July. I may have bought cute s’more skewers, two jumbo bags of marshmallows and a few boxes of graham crackers. Also am pretty stoked on the fact that I have this donut floaty in my possession right this very second. P.S. I should’ve bought a basketball pump because my cheeks hurt from trying to fill this dang thing with air.
Are you a hand-shaker or a hugger? Like, when you first meet someone and you don’t know them, but you sort of know them, like you’ve emailed before, do you go for a hug or the handshake? Is it gender specific? I feel like I’m more likely to hug a lady than a dude. But for the most part I’m totally that weirdo that goes for the hug when people go for the handshake. And then I have to be like, “I’m a hugger, soooorrrry!”
I’m usually secretly hoping they don’t have a weird complex about people touching them. I’ve known people like that. And those people haaaate people like me. Also, I kind of hate when people are too touchy-feely. There’s a happy medium to be had, man.
1. If I never see Lena Dunham’s boobs again, I’ll be ok. We see them too much, I think.
2. The best way to procrastinate is to look through Kim Kardashian’s Instagram–pure gold!
3. I just found out there’s a corgi walk in Portland, where like hundreds of corgis go on a walk together. And it dawned on me, just as I was mentally planning a trip to Portland, that I actually can’t go…because there’s a good chance that’ll I pass out in the middle of the street from all the cuteness.
4. I’ll never get sick of putting on warm sweats straight from the dryer. Best feeling EVER!
5. Spring cleaning feels amazing. I feel lighter, cuter and quicker. I have no idea why it took me so long to get on the Spring-cleaning-bandwagon, but I did it (a little) on Saturday and loved it. I mean, I didn’t love it, but I love the results.
I put things in cute mason jars and wrote the contents’ names on the front. I must’ve spent a solid fifteen minutes just staring at them in organizational amazement. And not so surprisingly, organizing made me want to make things with the contents I forgot I had.
Like everything else in this world, I have an opinion about Irish Soda Bread. For years I thought that Irish Soda Bread should stick to being traditional.
Not that I’m a traditional girl, by any means, but I dunno…there’s something to a recipe that’s purpose is to be made, eaten and enjoyed with minimal ingredients, effort and time. Irish Soda Bread’s history is rooted in this notion, so to make it fancy just seemed rude.
So, when it came to make traditional, normal Irish Soda Bread I really wanted to stick to the plan, but I swayed.
Butter lured me, so did whiskey, as it always seems too. The added additions and tweaks are welcomed. I mean, a lot of people complain about traditional Irish Soda Bread tasting dry, crumb-ey and just overall bland.
This Irish Soda Bread is the exact opposite of all of those things.
And I’m pretty sure it mostly has to do with these raisins…soaked and macerated in Irish Whiskey.
I love a free sample at the grocery store. Like, LOVE. I mean, it doesn’t mean I always like them, I usually don’t, but that doesn’t stop me from snacking. Sometimes my grocery lists are exhaustive and I need a lil’ snack break, you know?
A few years ago I was perusing Whole Foods around the holidays and they had one of those goat cheese logs rolled in dried cranberries out for the public to sample. You’ve tried this, no? It’s the simplest/most genius concept in the world: tangy goat cheese cheese rolled in sweet and tart dried fruit. SO GOOD!
I stood there and ate like half the log of goat cheese by myself hoping no one would realize that this girl couldn’t pry herself away and leave. That thing became a problem. After that when I needed a quick appetizer for guests (also known as just myself), I’d copycat that appetizer from Whole Foods.
A few days ago I was in the mood to make cornbread. (I don’t get in good moods, bad moods or sad moods. Instead I get in biscuit moods, roasted chicken moods or, what brings us here today, corn bread moods. It’s weird.)
I’ve hated eggplant since infancy, I swear, so the fact that you’re seeing little baked/fried matchsticks of eggplant right now is just crazy business. But here we are…just looking at eggplant.
The shift happened a few weeks ago when I went to my favorite vegan restaurant, which I sort of hate. I like/hate this restaurant. I sort of hate it and I sort of love it. This place is like no other restaurant I’ve ever been to. Each dish is an affirmation. Hold the phone, let me explain.
Every dish’s name is an affirmation. A vegan BLT isn’t just a vegan BLT, it’s actually a “I Am Humble.” So, in order for you to place your order you have to look at the server and say, “I would like the ‘I AM GORGEOUS'” and then the server looks at you and says, “YOU are gorgeous.”
This is when I vom. After you’re done ordering they tell you the philosophical question of the day. This is when (internally, of course!) I’m all like, Dude, listen, can you just give me my damn cashew cream, raw cold-ass vegan enchilada thing without talking to me about my inner spirituality and positivity or whatever, because seriously now I AM ANNOYED.
Okay so, why do I go back? Because it’s the best vegan food I’ve ever had. Ever! They served me an eggplant sandwich, which I ordered out of pure curiosity, knowing very well I hated the stuff. I figured if anybody could prepare an inherently gross vegetable in an awesome manner it was them. And I was soooo right.
Cauliflower and I have a thing. My love for this cluster of white, mild-tasting florets runs deeeeep, guys. Deep.
Spicy Cauliflower Soup? I make it. So cozy and delicious. Cauliflower Puree? It’s like the healthier version of mashed potatoes…that’s almost better. I dig it. I even love it in its simplest form: sauteed in a little butter, olive oil with a few red pepper flakes. Good. Solid.
I know good and well there’s no evidence of my adoration for cauliflower on this blog, and there’s a reason. It’s shallow, but I dunno, cauliflower is kinda ugly. Like, not ugly ugly, but it’s not a looker, you know? It’s pale..kinda boring to look at and when you cook cauliflower it becomes even more unattractive. LAME of me. SHALLOW of me. Whatever.
We gotta talk about what you’re doing this weekend. I need to hear what you’re making, and who you’re rooting for…blah blah, we’ll get to it. Before we delve in, I need you watch this video. It’s important. Do me a solid and watch it, please.
It’s going to make you laugh. It might even make your day. And it’s totally going to make you fall in love with Kristen Bell.
I’m sort of obsessed with her reaction to meeting a baby sloth. I dunno. I think it might the funniest, most endearing thing I’ve ever seen. And I’ll be honest, it also sorta scares me. That’s not a normal person’s reaction, you know? But I dig it. I dig her craziness. Baby sloths can make someone crazy. I get it.
You know what you don’t need? A guacamole recipe. I dunno.
Maybe this is me being a total brat, but honestly, even if you don’t know how to boil water, the last thing you need is a recipe that involves mashing, folding and adding salt. That’s just silly talk.
I lamented for a long time about sharing this situation you see pictured because why do you need this?! You can do this without me. Who am I to tell you how to make your guacamole.
But, I love it. So I figured that maybe you would, too. And maybe you never thought to put pomegranate seeds in guacamole. And maybe you’ll make it and share it with someone. That’d make my day.
So here I am. Just a girl…with a bowl of guacamole, asking you all to mash up some ripe avocados, mix ’em with some chopped up cucumbers and pomegranate seeds. It’s way more special this way! Refreshing, sweet, lime-y…special!
I did not. Until last week when I had dinner at Lou’s, this wine bar in a random strip mall next to an even more random laundromat. In other news, I’ve been pronouncing the word “laudromat” like “laundry-mat…” up until, oh I dunno, like, yesterday.
Not sure if you knew this, but in Los Angeles things like kitchen floors that aren’t made from formica, a washer & dryer in your unit, and a parking space for your vehicle, are all considered luxuries. I have two out of the three and I feel lucky and rich.
Pig Candy. Let’s go back to that.
It’s really special. I’d even go as far as to say that it’s important.