Frozen mixed berries, frozen cherries, frozen strawberries, pineapple juice, and–a key ingredient–Trader Joe’s sparkling limeade.
Why I have so many frozen berries randomly stashed in my freezer is a mystery even to me.
Not, of course, limited to Wednesdays. Today just happens to be one. …Barely.
I shall open with a video of Nayna, my belly dance instructor, from a couple of months ago:
I’m somewhere off to the left, wishing I’d brought my own camera. This was after class, so I don’t feel bad about watching my instructor dance instead of dancing myself.
(Ah, ah, ah.)
One was just me and Greg, at home, with a beautiful and delicious bird, greens, mashed potatoes, and wine. Quiet and intimate, and strangely, not nearly the most complicated or stressful meal we’ve made even in the last week.
House of cooks, y’all.
My second was with Meg and my new friend (and fellow running masochist) D., both of whom are gluten intolerant/allergic/unhappy. It was a potluck (so they undoubtedly got glutened by someone, alas), complete with (more) turkey, mashed potatoes (one style with horseradish–really good!), millet dressing, apple crisp, deviled eggs, and my well-received glazed carrots.
Well, the recipe is from a cookbook of Greg’s, but it was my idea to make them.
For many years, I was utterly confused when I ate other people’s deviled eggs. Why weren’t they sweet? What’s this weird paprika stuff?
Then I learned the secret to my mother’s deviled eggs: Miracle Whip.
Turn up your nose, cringe, flail at your love handles, whatever. The creepy creamy crack is the secret. People who would otherwise look at me like I’ve grown a second head have gobbled these things up. (That was before I knew of their loathing for Miracle Whip–I try not to serve people food that contains things they have moral objections to.)
Now, my mother isn’t a measuring cook, per se (which is fine, because we didn’t do a lot of baking), but here’s a rough recipe for the tastiest deviled eggs I’ve ever had:
Here’s a great way to spend a Saturday: driving around in rural Charlotte-ish areas, then walking around and seeing goats, horses, cattle, pigs, donkeys, plants, and bees. Yes, bees.
Some folks and I gathered a couple of weeks ago to tour three farms. The first was Apple Orchard Farm (my favorite!), the second was Maple Springs (too pumpkiny and commercial), and a third one I forgot the name of (with sad animals).
Apple Orchard will definitely become my go-to farm for if/when we need extra meat supplies between CSA boxes.