One of my favorite movie food scenes is from Waitress. You know, the movie with Keri Russell (Felicity), where she plays a waitress who loves making pies. She names each pie after a sentiment running through her bones, like “I-hate-Earl-Pie,” “I-hate-my-job-pie.”
The other day as I was rolling out and crimping, I started to think about my feelings and what’d I’d name my pies. I’d probably have a “Will-Amelia-Ever-Stop-Chewing-Stuff-Pie,” and, “The-Most-Heartbreaking-Part-About-Adulthood-Is-Learning-Your-Parents-Aren’t-Perfect-Pie,” and, “Am-I-Going-Down-The-Right-Path-Pie,” and lastly, “Joshua-Is-A-Dream-Pie.” I just got all real with y’all. Pie therapy: a new method for de-stressing.
Wednesday’s here and totally in motion. And I have some serious mid-week thoughts!!
1st – Why isn’t Seinfeld on Netflix’s instant watch? WHY! Pretty sure Netflix has done extensive research and figured out every single show/movie/comedy special I could possibly want to watch and decided not to stream those things.
2. Venus is apparently in retrograde, did you know this? And (some) of my friends tell me this is why I’ve been feeling like I’m in a crazy slump. This is true…I’m in a slump–it happens. Luckily, for me, it’s supposed to be lifted (or whatever) next week! I don’t believe in astrology really, but whatevs, I’ll take it.
3. I really don’t want to be one of those people that looks like their animals. You know what I’m talking about? That’s my biggest fear in getting this new dog that I’ve been talking about non-stop. I don’t want us to be twinsies! That’s always weird and awkward and people will always look at us and under their breath go, Oh weird, those two look alike. Just like the opening credit sequence in 101 Dalmations.
Do you ever lay in bed and crave a warm cinnamon roll topped with gooey icing? Of course you do. That’s a silly question. If you’re experiencing such a craving, and know good and well there’s no time and energy for such an involved baking project, look to a stack of these.
They’re fluffy, light, laden with cinnamon and have the perfect amount of tang thanks to the buttermilk. The entire stack is topped with a few spoonfuls of sweet glaze. These pancakes ‘ll make you forget all about cinnamon rolls, I think
Let’s talk my favorite holiday subject: presents!!
Look, I know I’m supposed to act all adult-like and humble and and be like, “Me? Nah…I don’t need a present. Don’t get me a present. I have everything I need…”
But can we be honest? I love presents. And sure I do have most things I need, but I still have wants. Duh.
I like that someone got in their car, went somewhere, picked something out just for me. I like that someone wrapped something, put a bow on it…just for me. Presents–when thoughtful–feel warm and sweet, and are just plain awesome.
If someone baked me something, put it in a glass jar, learned how to make a pom-pom (just for me!) and gave it to me…swoon. Seriously, can we get friend married?
This may be a total shocker to some of you, but in third grade I was not the cool girl.
Definitely not the cool girl. But I also wasn’t the weird girl, the girl that smelled nor the girl that was super jockey and athletic.
I was just way normal. Like really normal. Too normal for my own good. So I’m pretty sure I just kinda faded into the background…
The cool girls were the sprightly blond ones. Their hairs were always French braided. They wore a lot of pink. They were talkative and outgoing. The boys liked to punch them, in a good way (I think). And they had awesome packed lunches. (Read: Lunchables, Cheetos, Snack Packs.)
I was like, the antithesis of the situation you just read.
My dad thought it was a genius idea to buy me boys’ tennis shoes because he thought they were “designed” better. So yeah…I have him to thank for that. I was shy and quiet and observant. And my hair was frizzy and always sort of a mess. My mom, nor I, could French braid despite how many times we tried.
And my lunch…ugh…my lunch was always kind of lame. Think like, hummus, crudites and…arroz con pollo. Tell me! …how is a child supposed to be cool with yellow rice in their lunchbox?!?!
But now…I’m a totally different person. I know how to use a blow-dryer. My clothes are better. That lunch would actually make me excited. And I know how to do regular braids, French braids and fishtails. Yeah…I totally graduated to braiding pro status.
Despite who you were in third grade, everyone can braid this cheese danish. Everyone.
This post is totally not supposed to be about me eating forty apple chips in one sitting. That wasn’t my intention when I went to the store on Friday.
I was there to buy seven-layer-gradient-glitter-birthday-cake ingredients. (I was dreaming up a cake that matched my nails.) Instead I left with a big brown bag of apples.
I think it was a subconcious move to avoid my birthday. Typically, I’m totally not a good birthday person. I don’t like to throw myself parties, or bake myself cakes, or even let most people know it’s my big day.
The whole thing usually just gives me an anxiety attack and makes my face red and arms sweat. But this year I decided to shake the bad birthday attitude, man-up and celebrate. So here I am…
Biscotti NEVER excites me. Umm…well then why am I posting this you ask…
Well because this biscotti straight won me over. And it wasn’t immediate–it took a few days. The first time I made this biscotti I wasn’t that huge of a fan. In fact, I actually made this, took pictures, lamented on whether or not to post and then decided not to.