Cream Cheese


Phew! I didn’t mean to be away this long. I missed you all!

I figured I’d take MLK day off, and then a recipe failure happened. And then I had to jump on a plane to head back east to bury myself in the work that I’ve been putting off for weeks. Procrastination, I hate you.

But good news: I’m here, working diligently and it’s awesome. I’ve been in this really awful anxious mood for the past few weeks, so all this doing, writing and completing feels refreshing and wonderful. SO, I’M BACK! And I brought cheese to this productive party, my dudes and dudettes. Cheese!

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This may be a total shocker to some of you, but in third grade I was not the cool girl.

Definitely not the cool girl. But I also wasn’t the weird girl, the girl that smelled nor the girl that was super jockey and athletic.

I was just way normal. Like really normal. Too normal for my own good. So I’m pretty sure I just kinda faded into the background…

The cool girls were the sprightly blond ones. Their hairs were always French braided. They wore a lot of pink. They were talkative and outgoing. The boys liked to punch them, in a good way (I think). And they had awesome packed lunches. (Read: Lunchables, Cheetos, Snack Packs.)

I was like, the antithesis of the situation you just read.

My dad thought it was a genius idea to buy me boys’ tennis shoes because he thought they were “designed” better. So yeah…I have him to thank for that. I was shy and quiet and observant. And my hair was frizzy and always sort of a mess. My mom, nor I, could French braid despite how many times we tried.

And my lunch…ugh…my lunch was always kind of lame. Think like, hummus, crudites and…arroz con pollo. Tell me! …how is a child supposed to be cool with yellow rice in their lunchbox?!?!

But now…I’m a totally different person. I know how to use a blow-dryer. My clothes are better. That lunch would actually make me excited. And I know how to do regular braids, French braids and fishtails. Yeah…I totally graduated to braiding pro status.

Despite who you were in third grade, everyone can braid this cheese danish. Everyone.

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Before I moved to the big city of Los Angeles, I went to college in the small city of Winston Salem, NC. Although I’m glad to have moved on, I still pine for my favorite foodie spots. If you ever find yourself in Winston Salem, I have a few suggestions of places to visit.

First, you need to get a cup of coffee at Chelsee’s downtown. Order something with chocolate in it.

For lunch I recommend the fish and chips at Foothills Brewery. If you’re in a rush, don’t go. You’ll see a server approx. once per hour, but the fish and chips are worth it if you have an afternoon to kill.

Be sure to stop by 6th and Vine for a glass of wine. Tell them I say hi, and that I miss them. Ask if they’ll move to LA, pretty please?

Then, you need to mosey over to 4th Street Filling Station. Order the spinach-artichoke dip. Because it has feta in it. No one else in town makes it with feta, and therefore no one else in town has a better dip. This is logic, pure and simple.

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Hi.

How did the holiday treat you? I ate PW’s cinnamon rolls (thank you to everyone who offered tips!), got a pair of red Tom’s and hung out with family. It was wonderful!

Did you know that 2011 is on…umm…Saturday! How did that happen? What an amazing year this has been! I’m ringing it in at a friend’s Mad Men themed New Year’s Party.

So my friend Teri and I are getting beehive hair-do’s, putting on glittery 50′s dresses and whipping up retro appetizers.

I contemplated a few options: tacky Jell-O molds, Swedish meatballs, deviled eggs (which I LOVE), pigs in a blanket (ew!), fondue (umm, yes please!).

I finally settled on this Spinach and Artichoke Dip.

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Since I consider us so close friends, and since I’m a bad liar, I want to let you know that for the next couple weeks my posts have all been written in the past. You see, as I write this post I’m sitting on my couch with my wedding a full 3 weeks away. However, at the time you are all now reading this I am in reality on the other side of the country from my couch, pulling together all the last details for my wedding and trying not to freak out since I’m going to be married in only 4 days.

Here’s what I’m hoping my life looks like right at this moment:

I fit in my wedding dress. I hope for this most of all.

All of our luggage made it across country. I can probably wear my wedding dress all week, but it might get weird.

There are sunny skies. Hurricanes would be highly unwelcome right about now.

I’ve eaten at least a pound of crab legs by now. Two pounds would be ideal even better.

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Sometimes on the weekends I wake up, take a shower, walk my dog and then make myself a steaming bowl of tortellini with tomato sauce for breakfast. This is often followed by eggs and hash browns for lunch. I don’t always eat foods at their proper time of day.

I’ve also been known to eat ice cream for breakfast.

I’m kidding…sort of.

I need more meals like this pizza. There is never a wrong time to eat this. Sure it’s a pizza, which means you can eat it for lunch or dinner and no one will question you. But it’s also dough topped with cream cheese and smoked salmon, so it’s basically like eating a large, flat bagel with lox. Totally cool for breakfast.


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I have no excuse for this pie. Absolutely none. I could maybe defend it by pointing out the use of fresh fruit, but I’m aware that this is just not something I should be showing you in the dead of summer, also known as Bathing Suit Season.  Maybe I can place the blame elsewhere…specifically, to Saluda Grade Café, the restaurant that I worked at in high school, and the place that gave me the inspiration for this recipe.

The funny thing is, this was not a popular dessert there. It only  showed up for maybe 2 months out of the year, and when it did those pies would sit and sell so slowly that eventually I would take some home to keep it from going to waste. Not that I ever once complained about this. Except when I had to put on a bathing suit. Damn those pies.

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Growing up, I was a total tomboy who had to be bribed with candy to wear dresses, or fancy shoes, or anything remotely girly. And even now, I wouldn’t consider myself a super girly-girl. But every now and then, I totally give in and embrace it.  Case in point: Thursday night a friend scored tickets to the Twilight premiere, and yes I’m going. I have this weird love/hate thing with the Twilight series and am sort of excited to laugh my way through the movie.  I’ll be doing what any normal person would do at the premiere:  tweeting pictures, of course.  So if I end up getting tackled by some security dude, I’ll just blame it on all of you…

Back to cupcakes…these things taste down-right pretty;  they’re baby pink, paired with cream cheese frosting, and topped with shredded coconut. Try them. Embrace your girliness for gosh sakes, even if you’re a dude. Trust me–they’re worth it.

Here are a few other girly things I’m loving right now…

 

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We’re friends right? I mean, I like you, and if you like me then I guess that means we’re friends. So I can tell you about my guilty pleasures. What exactly is a guilty pleasure? It’s something that you know without a shadow of a doubt is bad for you and has no business being in your life, and you still think it’s wonderful. When it comes to TV shows, I am obsessed with the Real Housewives on Bravo. Notice how I didn’t specify a specific city? That’s cause I love all of them. Regardless of how loudly Chase or my friends tell me that these shows are trash TV and are a dredge on society, I still can’t help but be enthralled with the meaningless drama that consumes these women’s lives. Go ahead and judge me, I’m used to it. (Oh, and for anyone that watches, I’m totally on Team Bethanny)

Now, my food equivalent of a guilty pleasure is fettuccine Alfredo. Maybe you’re wondering why Alfredo is a guilty pleasure and not chocolate cake? Here’s the thing about unhealthy foods, you have your items like cookies and cake, that make no pretense of what they are: sugar and fat, plain and simple. Then you have things like fettuccine Alfredo that tries to convince you that it’s dinner, perhaps even part of a well balanced diet. Don’t be fooled though, this entire meal is two things: starch and heavy cream and I LOVE it. All you health nuts can yell at me all you want, you can tell me how fattening it is, how each bite is clogging my arteries, you can give me your estimates on how long it’s going to take me to exercise off this fat, and I will smile at you over my plate of steaming pasta, complete undeterred from eating the whole thing. [click to continue…]

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I sometimes wish I could have conversations with my past, younger self…here’s a conversation between Little and Big Adrianna that I wish I could have:

Big Adrianna: Hey…geez you’re tiny.

Little Adrianna: You’re tiny too and you’re supposed to be a grown adult. Umm…I don’t mean to be a harsh, but you don’t look like Cindy Crawford. People tell me I’m gonna grow up to look like her.

Big Adrianna:  I know I know, disappointing.  I’m not as rich either. Oh and by the way, sweet punch stain on your upper lip. Classy.

Little Adrianna: I like Hawaiian Punch, sue me. Hmm…well, your hair is pretty.

Big A: Oh yea…way nicer. I mean, I have to blow it straight and I need this fancy straightening cream and a flat iron…but it works, you know.

Little A: Yeah, totally…well, you look really happy.

Big A: I am…really happy.

Little A: Is it as hard as they say? You know, life…

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