I’m mostly filled with love. I like to consider myself a good, optimistic-half-glass-full kind of person. But I do curse like sailor and my “hate” list runs loooong. I guess it’s a bit of a conundrum but it is what it is. I think it’s because I know what I like and am not all that afraid to share my opinion. I like my positivity to be accompanied by a firm handshake and a bit of snark.
At the top of my “hate” list definitely lives spiders and weather that makes me sweat and tarts with glazes. Oh tarts with glazes, how I hate you! You’re so 80s in the worst way. Good 80s: Morrissey and neon (done with restraint). Bad 80s: tarts with glazes!! AHH!
And today, here I am pushing this pie situation with none other than a glaze! Who am I. But I’d like to defend this glaze. This one starts with burnt sugar and then it has a bit of water for thinning and bourbon in it. So it’s a little different. Way different, I’d say. I gave the whole thing a sprinkling of smoked sea salt because I couldn’t help myself. This is like the pie version of these Bourbon Caramel Apples with Smoked Sea Salt.
This pie may seem difficult and I’m not even gonna pretend and say it’s easy and you can make it in an hour because that’d just be silly.
It’s totally doable. But I’d say that if you’re in charge of making EVERYTHING, like, the stuffing, turkey, gravy, etc., don’t make this. I love you and wouldn’t want you to pull your hair out. But, if you’re maybe making one or two dishes then definitely make this! Why not.
Cookies that look like bloody fingers and cupcakes garnished with “eyeballs” is not really my idea of a good time. Why in the world would I wanna eat a cookie that resembles a bloody finger? Why would I want to eat a bulging eyeball? That sounds disgusting. And it also sorta scares me. Halloween legit frightens me. Right now Pinterest is a very scary place.
What’s weird is that as a kid I was OBSESSED with Goosebumps and the Fear Street series. They were the absolute best. I loved them so much, and would read them so quickly, that my parents would plea with me to make the books last. I was a fast lil’ reader. I thought everything was a race.
While I’d definitely take another holiday over Halloween, over the next few weeks I’ll be sharing Halloween-esque recipes because I’m working on being a more positive person. Also, a major incentive is that I get to dress Amelia in Halloween costumes. So far I’ve tried to get her to wear this pumpkin hat thingy and she’s not having it. Unfortunately, she doesn’t have much of choice.
My favorite and least favorite thing about owning a dog is how she wakes me up EARLY every. single. morning. I hate it because she whines and complains until I get up and take her for a walk; I love it because I don’t have to set an alarm clock and can depend on her to whine and complain to get me out of bed. So basically I love her method during the weekday and hate it on the weekends. No matter what day it is, I love our early morning walks, except for this past week when they’ve gotten SCARY. Yes, scary.
Last weekend we were walking, minding our own business when Amelia spotted a cat in the bushes. Amelia loves cats, wants to be their friends – just like I do, actually – but they’re never interested in friendship. This particular thugged-out cat was pissed that Amelia was interested. So, I did what I always do and tugged on her leash and was like, “C’mon Amelia, that cat doesn’t like you.” And she usually tries again and then gives up.
So as Amelia was still staring at the cat, it surprisingly leaped out at us and screeched. Amelia let out this yelp that I’ve never, EVER heard before and then of course since I’m scared of things like ants and teeny-tiny spiders, it startles me and we take off down the street, running like two crazy mad things. I stopped running when it dawned on me that I was running from a thing that I’m totally bigger than. It was absurd. But then I look behind me to see the cat running after us. So we do what anyone would do: we ran again.
If yesterday I was wearing a bonnet, speaking with an English accent and pushing scones in your face, then this is me frying chicken with big curls saying stuff like, “the bigger the hair, the closer to…” You get the idea.
Also, can I just say I’m so excited for Monday. My dude has a smoker at his house which means there’s gonna be smoked meat and crazy sticky ribs for consumption. There’s no pool in the backyard, but I’m buying this donut floaty, I’ll be wearing heart sunglasses and sitting in it (with Amelia, of course) ALL DAY long. I can’t wait. Oh and I’ll have this Chamomile Honey Whiskey drank thing in my hand.
It’s the perfect throw-together-stick-in-the-fridge-for-later kind of drink. Low maintenance, no fuss. I might even double it. If I were to compare it to something, I’d say it’s almost like a hot toddy on ice.
Pardon me while I get all bossy on you, BUT you must make this cake.
When I was lil’ Adrianna, I always dreamed about having a big sister. I wanted someone to steal clothes from, teach me how to French braid, paint my nails all gloopy and gross-like, steal my boyfriends (do sisters do this? I watch a lot of romantic comedies) and most importantly, I wanted someone to boss me around. I thought that bossy/bratty dichotomy between elder sister and younger sister seemed so fun.
Instead, I was born the older sister to a younger brother who was victim to a few non-requested beauty “makeovers” and a healthy dose of bossy-Adrianna.
Right now, I’m taking this big sister role seriously and being super bossy and telling you to make this G.D. cake!
Oh the holidays! How I love you. So many presents. So much warmth. So much food. And of course, so much family time.
Over the next few days, you might find yourself in a typical holiday scenario: piled into the den, grandma and dog included, watching a movie that the whole family, after a ridiculous 15-minute debate, has finally decided on.
At first everything will be fine, the movie will be moving right along, you might even be having a little fun…until, the film’s two lead actors start to kiss and get all attracted to each other while on this random killing spree/adventure.
You think nothing of it, until their kissy-face-action starts again, and then next thing you know, you’re watching a sex scene with grandma. This is terrible, guys. This is what awkward is.
Has anyone ever told you that you resemble a particular kind of animal?
When I was in 2nd grade the “mean kid in class” stood up in front of everyone and said I looked like a turtle. I remember my brain immediately thinking of cute animated sea-turtles that swim underwater and have adorable little feet. I didn’t take it as an insult…at first. But then all the other kids started laughing and I quickly realized what was going on. Always remember that when a boy tells you that you look like an animal, it means he hate/likes you.
Then when I was in 6th grade a boy told me I looked like a squirrel. Again, I think squirrels are pretty cute (minus the rabbies part) and took it as a compliment, sorta. Until…I realized that I shouldn’t. For the remaining school year he called me squirrel instead of Adrianna. I didn’t mind it nearly as much as I should’ve.
Have you ever been told you look like a horse? A rabbit? A sloth? If you have, don’t take it as an insult, just think of the cutest most animated horse out there. They’re most likely super pretty. Random lessons from me on this Monday!
It’s Father’s Day on Sunday. I know this because yesterday my dad called to kindly remind me, as well as giving me strict instructions as to what he wants and where I can find it. He was even nice enough to go so far as to Google Map the store from my apartment, too–it was helpful…and bossy.
It’s cool. I realize that this bossiness must be genetic because I sort of do the same thing with him. We know what we like, I guess and aren’t all that shy.
So yes, it’s Father’s Day. And I made popsicles for me to make and for you to make.
Whiskey always reminds me of my papa. And this is because he gave it to me at age 3 (!!!!). Yeah, I had my first sip of alcohol under the age of 5. I’m sure when he reads this he’ll be all mad at me for disclosing this, but I assure you it was actually to deter me from liking alcohol. It was a part of a bigger scheme to make me a non-drinker/rager. It worked, actually. I’m not a huge drinker, but I mean, if you add some watermelon, mint and lime juice…and then freeze it! Uhh…yeah, let’zzzz go!
I’m doing a little series with Kin Community and I figured I’d share the first (of six!) video that was all about me making a recipe inspired by one of this year’s Oscar best picture nominations. I picked Hugo because the thought of making something inspired by my favorite movie this year, Tree of Life, seemed complicated and depressing. If you’ve seen Tree of Life, you know what I mean. Good gracious…that movie made me hate/love life (in a good way!). Hugo, however, was pretty adorable. I figured crepes would be cool, even though there’s really no eating in the movie–you know, ’cause they’re poor street children; so this recipe is probably what they wish they could eat. That’s kinda sad! Anyway, Hugo is a good movie–it’s Scorcese’s old man film. I totally dig it. So here you are…Chocolate Banana Bourbon Crepes.
P.S. Isn’t it weird hearing bloggers’ voices for the first time. I read so many blogs and obviously read all of their writing in my own head-voice, so it’s always super weird hearing their voices. Hope it’s equally as strange for you to hear mine. xo
Schemllo! Hi! What’s up!! How are you?! I’m well. Thanks. I have three Friday significant thoughts to share with you:
1. The Millionaire Matchmaker lady scares me. Like a lot.
2. When it rains in Los Angeles (which is like twice a year) everybody’s cuteness goes up a notch. They bring their serious rain gear ‘A’ game–it’s kind of intense. Boys have peacoats on. They wear those rustic looking boots that I love. Girls look spiffy in their Hunter boots. Everybody is wearing big pretty big sweaters. Everybody is drinking coffee. It’s a good look.
3. I learned that bourbon is delicious in everything. Like everything. Just everything.