Alfajores, my favorite Peruvian cookie, has been a long-standing favorite. (I first blogged about them two years ago here!) Back in the day, I made them in a smaller version, and I continue to do so. I would categorize them as a deceivingly rich cookie. They’re blond in color so you think nothing of it, but honestly after one big cookie, I’m totally done. The solution has always been simple for me: make them mini!If you’ve never had them or heard of them, I’ll happily explain…
Think short bread cookie sandwich, filled with creamy dulce de leche (Peruvians call it manjar blanco). They’re super easy to make and remind me of being a little kid. The older version calls for white sugar, which results in a crisper cookie. My dad actually prefers the snappy version, but if you’re looking for a softer version, sub in powdered sugar.
I blogged about the newer, softer version over on PBS Food where you can get the full recipe and see more pretty pictures of cookies.
Yesterday as I was procrastinating aka staring out the window, I started to think about all the terrible jobs I’ve had in my life. Let me start by saying I’ve had some super great and easy ones. Like that time I worked for Earthlink at a kiosk in the mall and literally did absolutely nothing and just watched movies on my computer. Best job ever for a 16 year old. There was also that time I taught kids how to play tennis and got paid way too much for having that much fun.
My worst job was pretty depressing, especially now looking back at it. During the summer between the end of high school and beginning of college I wanted some money, basically to buy clothes and hang out with my friends. I responded to a Craigslist ad asking for someone who was a “self-starter, liked talking and personable.” I arrived to a run-downed office and greeted by some bro dude who gave me a schpeel about “helping older people who were trapped by owning timeshares they were unable to sell.” I was to sell them a service, which DID NOT exist, that’d help them sell their timeshare. Basically, my job was to rip off seniors. I failed miserably because I’m not that great of a sales person and since I was a naive person, it took me a good week to catch on to what was going on. I was lectured about being more of a “go-getter and understanding the place they were coming from.”
I feel like attempting to rip off older people might go down as the worst job ever. Waiting tables was SO much better.
What does this have to do with a cocktail? I dunno. I basically just wanted to share with you my terrible job. Hopefully you’ll share one too. We’ve all had (or have!) terrible jobs.
I have a few thoughts on my brain currently. No, they’re not intelligent thoughts. They’re just thoughts. This weekend is the first “football weekend” of the season and today I’m bringing you a salad. I guess this should tell you how invested I am in football.
I’m not one to have a bunch of traditions like eating breakfast in bed on Saturday (do real people actually do this?) or lighting candles at 5pm and getting in a hot tub to unplug…blah blah. But i will admit that starting traditions are kinda fun.
This fall my new tradition is rewatching Felicity. I started last night. Since LA is still being a jerk with its heatwave, I set a fan right in front of my face and watched Felicity while I ate delivery pizza. I call that one very awesome tradition, man. Fall reminds me of starting school. And Felicity starting school, moving to New York and being a psycho about Ben just brings warm nostalgic feelings in my tummy. But seriously, how crazy is Felicity in the beginning. Like, stalker status.