In Deep

I’ve been to Chicago exactly once (if we exclude airport stopovers). But I, along with Tygh, my cousin, Jamie, and her hubby, Chris, managed to visit 3 deep-dish pizzerias (in addition to our regular dinner reservations) during those fateful 48 hours, so I feel pretty legit.

Which I is why I am compelled to share this killer, at-home-in-your-very-own-kitchen version I came across not too long ago.  If you have a cast iron skillet and an oven, you can make fabulous deep-dish pizza at home.  Really. 

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Turkey Day

Libs,

I just freaking love the holidays.  Love everything about them.  The decorating (if that’s what you can call my attempts), the planning (sticky notes EVERYHEWERE), the stress (waking up in a cold sweat in the middle of the night realizing I didn’t remove the butter to soften for the gingerbread house dough), the food (when else is it socially acceptable, even encouraged, that you overeat and drink and we call it being merry), the crazy families (this requires no subtext).  I love it all. 

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Farmer's Market Plunder

Hey you!

So glad it is almost Friday.  Actually, so glad it’s almost Thursday. That means farmer’s market day around here, which is what keeps us out of vegetable and fruit doldrums throughout the week and I get so excited just thinking about it.

Actually, that’s kind of a lie. The truth is, well, I have been meaning to ask you…do you ever feel kind of overwhelmed at these places?  Like, you see all this great stuff (who doesn’t love the sound of a lemon cucumber?) and you buy it with these lofty goals of going home and doing something fabulous and new only to realize a week later that those damn squash blossoms are rotting in the cheese drawer?

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Nonee’s Cujado: Kale Re-visited.

So, Libby, you are totally right.  I had a horrible experience with kale.  One, as you said, I will never divulge to you in detail, as I fear it would forever change your relationship with kale, as well. It probably didn’t help that when it happened, I was in the 6th week of my pregnancy with Harvey, experiencing the early pangs of nausea and resultant bad food associations. 

And, in kale’s defense, it was a “pre-cleaned,” pre-packaged container of kale.  The kale version of, say, gas station sushi.  Plus, it was raw, tossed into a salad I was loving at the time.  And, well, when I’m pregnant, I turn on almost all vegetables, favoring instead strange processed foods like Fruity Pebbles and salt and vinegar chips.

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