You’ll remember these beauties from this post: https://thislittlelight516.wordpress.com/2012/04/05/a-smile-a-sigh-and-a-laugh/
I told you then that I smelt a tutorial, and though it’s not Tuesday, I’m bringing you a “how to” with “How to impress your family and friends with a delicious dessert, sans blood, sweat, and tears.”
Woo! That was a mouthful.
Now doesn’t that just sound incredibly appetizing? The word “crusty” really invokes a sense of concupiscence, doesn’t it? No? Well, I’m sure you’ll change your mind soon enough.
Happy Tuesday!
Normally I like to start these posts off with a little intro, some bantering about what’s culminated from my week thus far, yaddy-yaddy. But there will be none of that piffle today. Today I’m diving right into the Tutorial, because well . . . this is just too good to put off for any length of time. Later this week I write a separate post about:
“How I lost my mind trying to write a synopsis”
followed by:
“How I arrived at Sunnyside Institution”
For now, let’s put all insanity aside, shall we? I’m confident I’ll find it right where I left it when I’m finished; which is, grinning at me from the inside of a sink drain.
Ahem, moving on . . .
You are in for a HUGE-MONGOUS treat today! Michael and I literally exhumed a chicken. Well, maybe not exhumed, exactly, but we certainly extricated one.
You’ll have to forgive me, but it’s been a week or so since we did this, so I can’t quite recall how we arrived at the decision to make this meal.
I believe it went something like this:
Cara: “What are we going to make for dinner this week?”
Michael: “Hm — I don’t know. Oh, wait . . . The other day I read about something cool.”
Cara: “Yeah? What was it?”
Michael: “This chef made this sort-of cast for a chicken.”
Cara: *gasps* “Why on Earth would such a reprehensible atrocity occur?”
Okay . . . I didn’t say that part. What I really said: “A cast? What kind of cast?”
Michael: “It was to keep the chicken moist while it cooked. It’s just dough that hardens over the chicken. Wanna try it?”
“Sure.”
And there you have it; a look into the minds of two utter geniuses. :)
Happy Tuesday, Everybody!
I hope your Monday was kind to you. I’m currently languishing in bed, my rump squashed up against a pillow, wishing I hadn’t pushed it so hard at the gym yesterday. Listening to me rotate every so often, you’d think I was walking on hot coals. “Ooo. Ah. Oo-oo. Ahhhh.” What is it that leads a person to believe they have suddenly transformed into a superhero upon entering the gym? Adrenaline? Endorphins? Body-hugging spandex? In the moment, I was a stud. In hindsight, I was an idiot. Let’s just say I’ll be breaking for the bathroom on an “as imperatively needed” basis today.
Anywho . . .
I’ve found something decadently yummy to share with you today. I’m calling it a snackert: half snack, half dessert. You heard it here first, folks. Prepare for imminent takeover. Next time you’re watching Martha or Rachel whip up something fantastic, and they look over beaming into the camera and say, “Doesn’t this snackert look amazing, everyone?!” remember that it’s incipience was born at This Little Light. :)
This tutorial — originally debuted and found at smittenkitchen.com <— Amazing recipes! — is dedicated to my dear friend Kristin, who specially requested that I feature another food tutorial.
Tis Tuesday, my friends, and you know what this means?! I head out into the pastures, shear a flock of sheep, and make myself a new fleece coat.
No . . . that’s not right — I do that on Thursday!
I kid, I kid.
You all are in for a HUGE treat today. I thought we would shake things up a bit and do some cooking! And since a prowess in couture cuisine simply does not abound in this writer’s facility, I’ve enlisted the help of my husband — who, among his many hats, happens to own a toque, too — to whip us up a delicious meal. Winter is upon us; I know I openly subject myself to derision and mockery when I say that I have been very cold these past couple of days, temperatures dropping into the *gulp* 40’s. I know, I know — many of you incur snow, sleet, and throughout the day are forced to check less lardaceous appendages to ensure they’re still attached. But I’m a California girl, and 40 is frickin’ cold in my books!
Nothing says warmth and comfort like a steaming bowl of hearty chicken noodle soup, wouldn’t you agree? There’s just something about it that melts you from the inside, taking the cold and expelling it bit by bit. The sumptuous savory goodness leaves you relaxed and at peace, as if you’ve been hugged from the inside.
In the mood for some soup yet? I hope so!
Oh, and per the title:
This ain’t your cup of Campbell’s Soup.
Wash your hands, grab yourself some cutting boards, knives, a very large pot, and let’s get cookin’!
For Christmas last year, I wanted to give my mother-in-law something she would really love. (I’m weird about gifts, and am unable to buy things just for the sake of having a present to give.) It has to fit, you know? A well thought out gift is very much like offering someone a piece of their reflection; they see all the best parts of themselves in it, without all the blemishes and flaws normally so apparent.
Before I go into the tutorial, a bit of background. I believe I have yet to mention our living situation, yes? Well, I used to think of it as unique, but more and more it seems to become quotidian with each and every passing month our economy stays rooted in debt. My husband and I — for the time being — are living with his mother. For years we paid exorbitant rent prices, and in return had a lovely space with which to entertain. Our town-home was 1400 sq. ft. and stunning, let me tell you! We poured much time and energy into painting and decorating, and enjoyed every minute of it. However . . . it also cost over $2,000 a month. Yowsa! When I stopped working as a nanny, and decided to take this Providential moment in my life — however long it may last — to finish my first novel, we also decided that we would give up a portion of our autonomy in exchange for some much needed financial relief. Michael’s mother, Susan, graciously accepted us into her home. Susan is incredible. I love my my mother. I also love my father and step-mother; however, I know that we couldn’t live with either of them — mostly because of me. I intuit and perceive, and being the over-sensitive Mollusk Girl I am, would be worrying about every microscopic detail, fretting about becoming a bother and burden, and so on and so forth. Susan is calm. Susan is easy-going. Susan is Michael’s mom. I need these blue personalities around my red one, or else . . . I will absolutely go insane.
