A couple weekends ago, Chris and I were holed up in a Truckee hotel for a night during one of his mountain bike races. He was in the bathroom tending to one of his “it’s cool, I think a butterfly bandage should hold it together” injuries (ew) while I distracted myself with Food Network in the bedroom. Because that’s what married people do in swanky euro-mod hotel rooms. First aid and cable.
Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives was on, of course (is it not always?), and exclamations like BANGARANG and BOOYAH and TAKE ME TO FLAVORTOWN were shooting out of the TV like Cyclop’s laser beams.
HOLY CLAM, BATMAN.*
GIVE THAT BAD BOY A TASTE.
And that’s when it hit me.
Blind people probably think Guy Fieri is a porn star.
Is that an OK thing to have people believe?
I don’t think so. I think not at all is that OK.
So, Public Service Announcement: Guy Fieri is the host of a food show. Tell your blind friends.
You guys are going to think I’ve become completely unhinged with this one, and that’s ok. Because maybe I have, a little. I blame far too many episodes of The Mind of a Chef — or just a complete and utter devotion to forcing as much browned butter as possible into a dessert that, scientifically speaking, is kind of anti-browned butter. (I’ll explain later.)
A few months ago, Chris and I had the most spectacular meal at Manresa, included in which was a browned butter panna cotta, AKA Mindsplosion Central. I died, you guys. Ok, I didn’t die (clearly, jeesh, I don’t give you guys enough credit), but I think I uttered something alone the lines of “I could die at this moment and have no regrets” as soon as the first spoonful graced my lips. It was utterly silky, nutty and essentially browned tasting. It was nearly outside my realm of comprehension.
The single most delicious bite of food I’ve had in recent memory, in fact. And that is no small statement.
In case you’ve been snoozing under a rocksicle, it’s Popsicle Week all over the interwebs, and things are getting frenzied. Nicole made a popsicle that tastes like FREAKING THAI PEANUT SAUCE, for crying out loud. I think she might have just secured her spot as my new bff, which I’m almost certain was her intent when she was like, I’m gonna make me an ice pop that’ll taste real good with some cilan-lan on top.
Ok, the cilan-lan was me. But I’d like her even more if she said it. (Do it, Nicole. It’s a fun time.)
Should we talk about Amber? She shoved cookies all up in her lemony shiggies, and it’s blowing my mind. She says it’s akin to chomping on a frozen lemon bar. I mean, I guess that’s cool if you like stupid rad hybrid desserts and stuff. No big deal.
Tracy went the yogurt route. Seriously so pretty.
Ileana SMOKED — uh, yeah, sah-moked — up some peaches then got all chicka-chicka-boom-boom, will there be enough room for cream? You better believe it.
Erika milked, like, three cereals and stole my heart along the way. (I have nipples, Erika, can you milk me? Oh relax, itsaquotepeople!)
And should we even talk about Molly’s mochi matchamajiggies? That girl should be the official mascot of hapa chicks everywhere, because she makes us look goooooood. She’s also good looking. And just a nice person, or so my many hours of blog-stalking have led me to believe. Wink.
If you haven’t gathered, I kind of love Popsicle Week and can’t thank Billy enough for hosting this jam-out for the second year in a row. He’s that badbadbadbadbadboy that makes us feel so good (you know he makes us feel so good) and a kind and patient soul for doing all the heavy lifting so that the whole
37 40 of us — yep, 40 bloggers in all! — could virtually clink stick food and get to know each other.
And all of you, of course!
Oh what’s up, dudesies. Fancy seeing you here. I thought you might have flown the coop since it’s been all crickets and cobwebs up in these parts lately. And by these parts I mean the blog. This blog. Not those parts. Oh dear, and now we’re talking about cobwebby parts when we should be talking about just about anything else.
Like the impressive flip-flop tan I accrued last week. See, the Inland Empire is hot as farts. Sunshiny, too. And a literal hotspot of boutiquey fruit vendors tempting passersby with baskets of red, sun-warmed berries and candy sweet stone fruit. Squishy dates, glittering with amber syrup. It’s also where my bestie-with-the-baby just put down roots, which means she’s but a 60-minute airplane ride away. (Airplanes, man. More like fatty, winged mind-blowers, amiright?)
So, that’s where I was last week, while things around here were getting all…lonely and unkempt. (I can’t help it – it just keeps taking that turn.) Eating fat, juicy berries and fat, sugary dates and squeezing fat baby cheeks and getting my foot tan on.
Love cake? Check out last week’s recipe and enter for your chance to win a DIY Calligraphy Set from The Lettered Bride! Gogogo! Does it, at this point, go without saying that I’m a momma’s girl? I am, through and through. And a better person for it, I truly believe. There is so much of … Continue reading
Update: this giveaway is now closed. Thanks to all who entered – and congrats to our winner, Laura P.! Few people know this, but my relationship with Chris started with a night of dancing. A pair of silver pumps. And a girl named Ashley. Ashley and I shared mutual friends throughout college, so our run-ins were … Continue reading
Update: This giveaway is now closed. Thanks to all who entered! Dudesies, it’s Valentine’s Day! And in honor of this, the most romantical of holidays, I felt like I needed, well, more than words…to show I feel…that my love for you is real. (Too…Extreme? Ha. Just me? Shocking.) But seriously you guys: I’ve joined nine … Continue reading