No children were harmed during the making of these Bride and Groom First and Forever Cookbook recipes.
I've been really pissed off at Kroger lately. Every week I buy produce — and I buy lots of it, because vegetarian — and before the next week's grocery trip has come around, a good amount of the stuff I haven't eaten yet has gone bad. Four days after I bought the navel oranges to make sangria, and one of them was already growing green mold! So that was frustrating. I only used the one good orange in my wine. Which really isn't a big deal in the big scheme of sangria, but dammit Kroger I am tired of throwing money at you only to have to throw my food away after a couple of days. Rawr. Also, the sangria was good, but duh, it's red wine. I never say no to red wine.
Unlike every other child in America, I grew up hating both cheese and ranch dressing. Since becoming a vegetarian, I have begrudgingly accepted that FINE, cheese is wonderful, but it wasn't until I tried this salad that I thought, "Huh, maybe ranch dressing is okay too." Though admittedly the recipe tells you to make your own ranch dressing, and it didn't have that weird zip to it at the end like store-bought ranch does. (Instead you mix equal parts mayo and buttermilk, and throw in a little lime juice, taco seasoning and onion powder.) I skipped the chicken on my salad and stuck to the dresing and avocado and tortilla strips, but Matt enjoyed the chicken tossed into his.
These were very tasty, and Matt and I agreed that the best part was the lime juice-soaked sugar around the rims. My goodness lime sugar is delicious. (Matt doesn't like it when I put his drinks in martini glasses, so he got the more manly rocks glass. I think I win though, because the martini rim has more room for lime sugar.)
I don't know that I had ever had bread pudding before, but I have been missing out all my life because IT WAS SO GOOD. The "hidden treasure" was that there were chocolate chips on the bottom of the ramekins. DELICIOUS CHOCOLATE MIXED IN WITH SWEET EGG CUSTARD. My goodness.
Neither of my parents were big on cooking much when I was a kid, but on very rare occasions, my dad would come home from the store with an artichoke. He would cook it up, and melt some butter in the microwave, and then the two of us (and occasionally my sister) would rip those leaves off and dip them in the butter and scrape the meaty bits off with our teeth. My mom thought it was disgusting. I loved those days. That said, this butter tasted better than the microwave-melted kind, but the artichoke itself didn't taste quite as good as I remember my dad's being.
If a recipe could be a basic bitch, that's what this one would be. Seriously. I already made this caprese salad-esque "recipe" once this week without even looking at the instructions, and then I followed the instructions and it turned out the exact same, except that the tomatoes were cut in a way that was more difficult to eat and the reduced balsamic was thicker than when I just poured it over my tomatoes from the bottle. (The recipe said to "decoratively drizzle" the balsamic glaze on the plate, and clearly I don't know how to do that. It ended up all over the counter.)
Completed: 88 of 147 recipes
Do you have any fond childhood food memories? What foods did you hate as a kid that you kind of begrudgingly like now? What stories do your parents like to tell about your chldhood?
No comments
Post a Comment