'Tis the season, bitches, and I'm back, with cookies. I hope you are ready for some cookies, because this month…that's pretty much going to be the deal. I bake cookies until I collapse on the floor in a heap of flour, then I drink wine and watch something embarrassing on Netflix. (See: last year's reference to River Monsters.) (Also, those cookies are great for Christmas, look into it.)
Or, tales from the blogging struggle bus. Seriously, why all of the sudden is my phone taking grainy pictures? Why is the lighting in this house so miserable? Why does it have to be dark BEFORE 5pm? (Winter, I hate you.) I desperately want an SLR camera, but my budget laughs at the idea. I've had at least 4 recipes I've made that the photos depressed me so badly I decided not to post, and more that I was just too tired to photograph.
However, it's about to be Thanksgiving, and so I will give you pie, even though this photo is terrible and calling my crust "rustic" is a bit laughable. Whatever, this pie was delicious. It may look pumpkin, but it's made with acorn squash, although any old fall squash will do here. No puree here, either, just cooked squash mixed into custard, which is the intentionally rustic part of this pie. Here's the thing: this is really no more work than a pumpkin pie, but people will be way more impressed when you tell them it came out of a real squash instead of a can.
Yeah, honestly, the title and pictures pretty much sell themselves.
I love ice cream sandwiches. Like, a lot, and the fact that I don't make them more is kind of a tragedy. Except maybe for the size of my waistline. Flipping through the October Martha Stewart Living (yeah in my fantasy life I have time to make wreaths out of corn husks and carve art museum-worthy pumpkins), these caught my eye immediately.
Oh, sorry, were you waiting for me to say something? I got distracted by the close-up of homemade ice cream. Really delicious, super creamy, pistachio-full ice cream.
Happy Independence Day!
I love the Fourth of July. Honestly, it's a ridiculous celebration but just so American. Celebrating the birth of our nation with explosions and absurd amounts of food cooked over fire while hanging out outside? I love it. Someone go get me some sparklers.
Spring was slow to arrive to the Midwest this year, and the spring crops accordingly late. So while others have moved on to the abundance of strawberries, it’s still pretty much all asparagus and rhubarb here in Chicago. I was thrilled to finally be able to pick up some rhubarb at the market, with little more of a plan than “bake it in something.” Continue reading