It took me a month or so of agonizing and painful withdrawal, but I am finally over the sad and sorry fact that cherries have gone out of season. I recognize that there are worse things in life to be hooked on (Breaking Bad, anyone?), but I seriously had a four pound per week Hood River Cherry thing going there for a while this summer. Four pounds a week might be a conservative estimate, actually. I was pretty bummed by the onset of fall when the cherries disappeared for good until next July.
We have several days of school under our belts by now and so far things are under control. The drama and tears (mine) have been kept to a minimum, though I am terribly sad that the carefree days of summer are gone. We’re down to the brass tacks of long practices after school and backpacks weighed down with loads […]
I thought of changing the name of this recipe to “The Best Blueberry Muffin I Ever Made” or “Better than Coffee Shop Blueberry Muffins” or “Worth the Muffin Top Muffins” or just about any other title than what they’re actually called. This is not because I don’t think Browned Butter Blueberry Muffins sounds incredibly appetizing — I just didn’t want to frighten anyone off at the prospect of having to brown butter. It’s really not hard to do and it’s not scary at all, so I’ll just leave the title as is and encourage you to try a new technique today. No one wants to talk about muffin tops anyhow.
Here’s a fancy little number to serve to your mama on Sunday while she lounges the morning away amongst fluffy pillows. She’s bound to be impressed with your mad cooking and presentation skills, don’t you agree? You don’t have to tell her how simple this elegant breakfast was to make — she has eyes in the back of her head, after all. She’s going to love that you whipped these up for her. Score extra points by serving hot coffee and fresh flowers on the side.
This week, I’m discussing my habits with you here – Tuesday it was my pizza issue. Today, it’s mangoes. The DamFam fights over mangoes the same way we do about greasy cartons of Chinese food leftovers. I guess there are worse things to fight about. So when mangoes go on sale, like they are this week, I stock up. I bring them […]
I thought I’d put a breakfast “appetizer” idea out there for you all this week. Something healthy-ish to nosh on whilst you make your way through your marshmallow peep and jelly bean stash on Sunday morning – a little nibble while you wait for the egg casserole to finish baking. This breakfast bruschetta is a pretty little prelude to Easter Sunday brunch. Hope the Bunny is good to everyone. “Hoppy” Easter. : )
It’s the very first school night of the year at our house; maybe it is at your place, too. Some moms I know are celebrating – the happiest ones seem to be the mothers of grade school kids. My teens and t’ween are kinda low maintenance these days, so I’m bummed to have school and homework back in our lives. But some dads I know aren’t too sad — one of my guy friends said this past weekend, “Why would you be depressed about school starting again? They need to go use their brains so they don’t live off me for the rest of their lives!” That made me laugh. I s’pose that’s one way of looking at things.
Whether I’ve made this to serve to guests, or I’ve made it because I WAS the guest, this is the most awesome coffee cake I know how to bake. Well actually, I do have one that I think is even awesomer, but it doesn’t have fruit in it (hit me up for it sometime, I’ll spill it in a skinny minute). But in the fruit-filled category, this recipe wins hands down. And yes, you may remember seeing it here before. But when I made it for overnight guests this past weekend and my punks called it “the total bomb” (which in punk speak means, like, really really good), I had to make sure you all knew it was here.
It happens sometimes – even to Sendik’s biggest fan. It happened to me on Sunday. I had plans to go to the Mequon store after my workout. But there I was at the gym, where I had just done my time on the treadmill. As I was disinfecting the console for the machine’s next victim, Stephen Tyler began butchering the National Anthem to open the Patriots / Ravens game. It was awful (a little pitchy, dawg!), and yet, I was completely riveted. Like a car crash you know you shouldn’t slow down to peek at but you just can’t help it. And after one look at Tom Brady’s mug, I was sucked in. I needed Sunday football in my life.
I was talking to some friends this past weekend about the order of events in their home on Christmas morning. I’m not going to name them here (they know I love them), but here’s what they do: first, they open their stockings. But before they open any presents, they proceed in an orderly fashion to a formal, hot breakfast of bacon and eggs, the whole nine yards. After dining, they take turns opening one present at a time. Gift opening comes to a complete halt when someone unwraps an item of clothing and (wait for it) the recipient must try on and model said apparel for the rest of the family, receive compliments and admiration, and offer up effusive thanks. Then the civil, one-at-a-time gift opening can resume. Well, I was kind of snickering (they weren’t) because – first of all, this must take hours. And, not to make it sound like I can’t manage to maintain some small modicum of decorum in my house, their order of events is in sharp contrast to what happens at our home on Christmas morning.
Connect with Sendik's