There are times when I curse the summer heat here, and when it’s 105 F and hotter day after day, I can’t be blamed. But then I remember that hot days do come with certain advantages, like excuses to eat ice cream.
If I try hard enough, I could probably make an even richer, creamier, and more indulgent dessert than this. But I would have to try pretty hard.
Ah summer, I don’t quite know what to do with you. You’re hot and sweltering and uncomfortable. Yet I love what you give me. I guess I’ll keep you for now.
I love me a good biscuit. Drown it in gravy (but only if it’s actually good), or slather it with butter then top it with honey, and I’m a happy person.
Repeat after me: Broccoli can taste good without being smothered in a sea of goopy, fake cheese. And I don’t mean that you should smother it in a sea of goopy, real cheese, either.
I will never tire of hearing my children’s angelic voices asking me “Mom, what’s for dinner?” Just kidding, it got old as soon as they learned the phrase.
I am a firm believer in the saying “necessity is the mother of invention”. Dinner is necessary. At least that’s what my family keeps telling me.
Plums are liars. Okay, not all plums lie, but when they do it’s really bad, but it’s nothing that booze and sugar can’t fix. Well, at least in this case.
I don’t make this dish enough. Nowhere nearly enough. My medium boy reminds of this on a regular basis.
One of the side-effects of trying to create a new recipe is that I don’t know how much of an ingredient I might need, and then am left with extra that I need to figure out how to use. It’s a rough life.