When you’re stressed, often the simplest things have the ability to brighten your day, or completely dampen your mood.
This morning, the relaunch of the holiday coffee cup made me smile, and made even Au Bon Pain coffee almost tolerable.
My brother, an Airman and, more importantly, my best friend, is as much of a disappointment as his sister. Despite having been guided by our parents and disciplined by the U.S. Air Force, his standards for living have obviously declined since he’s been on his own. This is evidenced by the contents of his refrigerator:
Here we have a mostly eaten package of taco-flavored shredded cheese, two hot dogs, jelly, mustard, and a Domino’s…coupon. Remind you of anyone? It’s obvious now more than ever that we share the same bloodline.
I wonder if he eats this stuff in his underwear. I doubt he eats anything in his underwear. In fact, I doubt he even eats.
After a dinner of frozen foods, the microwave continued to reign into dessert.
As is typical in my apartment, there was a minimal selection and I was getting desperate. It didn’t help that I was flipping through one of Lidia Bastianich‘s cookbooks, making the situation all the more humiliating. But there, on page 23 of Lidia Cooks from the Heart of Italy, was a recipe for baked apples. Now we all know that I was in no shape to make her version; but, with my microwave in gear, I made a simple dessert that was done in no time.
Core an apple, leaving the bottom intact. Fill with brown sugar, pumpkin pie spice (or any combination of warm spices) and a very small pinch of salt. Top with a pat of butter and microwave on medium power until the apple is cooked through (for me, it took about eight minutes).
When planning to visit my parents for a weekend, my dad announced that he would drag out the deep fryer. That was all I had to hear to get me on a train out to the ‘burbs for a couple of days.
And you thought he was kidding. Here we have deep-fried string beans, cod and corn dogs. Oh, and we also made potato chips. With my dad at the helm and me, salt in hand, we were the two-person team behind the dinner aptly named by my dad, “Sunday Fry-Up”.
I can’t say that my GI tract let me off easily, but this day dedicated to gluttony and grease was entirely worth it. The bonds formed and enhanced by spending time in the kitchen and around the dinner table with others is, to me, one of the simple beauties in life. So though you may just see a bunch of fried food, I see love.
Cheesy? Perhaps. True? Undoubtedly.
I recently began formulating a menu for a project at The FCI. Instead of starting from the beginning, I went backwards and made dessert. Everyone, meet Apple-Bacon Pie.
I won’t go on and on about how incredibly the savory bits of bacon melded with the sweet apple filling and the spice of the gingersnap crust, I’ll just direct you to the recipe and encourage you to make it yourself. We can all thank (or curse) Mims Bledsoe of The Pie Shop in Atlanta, Georgia, for her genius.
eating in your underwear 