Whipping up banana blueberry muffins upon request was easier than, say, the chocolate chip blondies missing their walnuts, can you forgive 'em? Look deep into your heart and soul and sans the two loaves of English muffin bread you must've whipped up in a state of delirium, and the Killer Crunch brownies that were declared the best brownie hands down eaten in a lifetime, ever.
Meaning that and sticking by it is the key to all that comes after. Honestly, sweet potato fries diced and tossed with rinsed black beans and a smattering of salsa, rolled in a lightly cheesed tortilla, now an every day staple. Becoming salad's best friend and thinking shredded carrots and shredded purple cabbage would be a lovely accompaniment leaves you craving the hard boiled eggs expected of everyone, a source of protein.
Sprinkling sunflower seeds on top, pulling out of your hat a recollected sausage and peppers with some mushrooms thrown in, a little saucy but delightful with penne, I've warned you. Thinking you know everything and holding on to a grudge to spare your dignity, yeah, I've witnessed. Of all the recipes going through my head, if only you were of upright character, no one underestimates the drama you'll unfold.
Yes there's an excuse or explanation for all things, an understanding that will set steel cut oats with thawed cherries, bananas and blueberries free. It's the brown sugar, pure maple syrup, cinnamon and salt conundrum that gets what it expects at every false turn though, 1/8 cup, 1/8 cup, 1/2 tsp, 1/4 tsp to a 1:3 cup oats to boiling water ratio.
Thursday, March 20, 2014
Friday, March 14, 2014
Serial gastronomy
Having great success in life is a predisposition, either you've attributed your baked egg and sausage sandwiches to good luck, or done everything you could to avoid it. I'm not one of those persons who under pressure cracks an egg AND stuffs cheese into every crevice of these snack worthy muffins, but I'm willing to assume the best in others, and trust me I've tried.
When it comes down to it, my kitchen has an eternity to talk me out of baked chicken nuggets with sweet potato fries on the side, stuffed mushrooms optional. I've cleaning to do, that's no lie, an entire three baskets of laundry to mangle, disagree with, and ultimately besmirch. It's tablespoons galore with olive oil taking the lead at three, and exonerated sugar making a sound choice of just one, finally, a grown up!
Seeing what I've seen, a single teaspoon of every mistake known to man you can imagine, just thinking chili and garlic powder can vouch for your goodness while cumin and oregano denigrate your well-versed character. This gets you irritated? Well baste the damn sweet potatoes yourself then, 425 for about 15 minutes gets you over who else, but we warned you.
Heating your pans, plus the caramelizing sugar and carefully determined spices, a cup or so of "red and orange vegetables" in, without a fuss? You don't just get Panko crusted chicken nuggets that come out crispy, but then can be sliced for crispy corn tacos with salsa, cheese, sour cream, and even corn and black beans. Doesn't add up, not even on Friday.
When it comes down to it, my kitchen has an eternity to talk me out of baked chicken nuggets with sweet potato fries on the side, stuffed mushrooms optional. I've cleaning to do, that's no lie, an entire three baskets of laundry to mangle, disagree with, and ultimately besmirch. It's tablespoons galore with olive oil taking the lead at three, and exonerated sugar making a sound choice of just one, finally, a grown up!
Seeing what I've seen, a single teaspoon of every mistake known to man you can imagine, just thinking chili and garlic powder can vouch for your goodness while cumin and oregano denigrate your well-versed character. This gets you irritated? Well baste the damn sweet potatoes yourself then, 425 for about 15 minutes gets you over who else, but we warned you.
Heating your pans, plus the caramelizing sugar and carefully determined spices, a cup or so of "red and orange vegetables" in, without a fuss? You don't just get Panko crusted chicken nuggets that come out crispy, but then can be sliced for crispy corn tacos with salsa, cheese, sour cream, and even corn and black beans. Doesn't add up, not even on Friday.
Tuesday, March 4, 2014
Take note
Blueberry crumb muffins are going to get my day going, much like cheesy chicken spaghetti fulfilled my week, it was the baked chicken solution that took it over the top, satisfying everyone. Only sprinkled lightly with a medley Pioneer Woman concocted for a chicken tortilla soup that never made it into existence, let alone anywhere near the running. Heating up my stovetop for an hour and a half of stewing didn't make sense for me or my family, overriding aromas tend to cancel out Feng shui happiness. Haven't you looked inward?
A teaspoon and a half of cumin, an ordinary teaspoon chili powder, a half teaspoon garlic powder mini remedy, purported to heal everything but gout, even wickedness inherited. Take a 375 degree oven and prove me wrong then, the olive oil was the adherent, an hour later the plan. All this family pack had to offer in the end was the quarter cup of onion, green and orange bell peppers, the mushrooms I snuck in. Otherwise intentionally neglected, left to struggle independent of any guidance, thrown to the wolves in another sense.
Shredded chicken in that manner nearly knocked me over, tumbling self-righteously into quesadillas, mixed with rinsed black beans, a quarter cup of salsa calling a do over. Shredded cheddar hates to admit when it's wrong, so why wouldn't you, too? Like cream of chicken soup, the crumb topping tends more towards enjoyment, less towards a splendid repertoire of fandangled new casseroles. I fear none of them.
A teaspoon and a half of cumin, an ordinary teaspoon chili powder, a half teaspoon garlic powder mini remedy, purported to heal everything but gout, even wickedness inherited. Take a 375 degree oven and prove me wrong then, the olive oil was the adherent, an hour later the plan. All this family pack had to offer in the end was the quarter cup of onion, green and orange bell peppers, the mushrooms I snuck in. Otherwise intentionally neglected, left to struggle independent of any guidance, thrown to the wolves in another sense.
Shredded chicken in that manner nearly knocked me over, tumbling self-righteously into quesadillas, mixed with rinsed black beans, a quarter cup of salsa calling a do over. Shredded cheddar hates to admit when it's wrong, so why wouldn't you, too? Like cream of chicken soup, the crumb topping tends more towards enjoyment, less towards a splendid repertoire of fandangled new casseroles. I fear none of them.
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