As your correspondent on things that are Important in New England, I’d be negligent in my duties if I didn’t take the time to speak with you about the cranberry. Cranberries! Such New England-y little bitches! All tart and pucker-y! And this New England-y little bitch loves them. (This New England-y little bitch also knows several hundred things to do with them, but we don’t have much time here so we’ll keep it to one pretty easy and terribly impressive thing to do with them for the sake of this exercise.) And so it is with love and only the slightest bit of judgment about the fact that you’ve [...]
It's come to my attention that you've not been taught to make beef stock. I suppose if someone hadn't been so busy finding innovative ways to tag blog posts with "doody" and googling images of women in sports bras, you'd not have this egregious hole in your education, but alas. No website can be perfect-although, now it is.
Summer: it turns me upside down. Summer, summer, summer: it's like a merry-go-round. It was true for Ric Ocasek many years ago and it's true for the rest of us today, because Monday is Memorial Day, so here comes summer!
"Summering. Drinking. Summering and drinking. For the prep, the two words are synonymous from Memorial Day to Labor Day." -Tipsy in Madras
Summer drinking is a fantastically elaborate endeavor among the set that uses "summer" as a verb-there are drinks you drink at the club (Southsides), drinks you drink while getting ready for Saturday evening charity balls (known as "dressers," they can be whatever you fancy, [...]
A confession: I don't particularly revere the lemon square. I actually don't think I'd ever even tried one until I made a batch out of curiosity after accidentally turning "lemon squares" into an Internet in-joke. I guess somewhere along the way I got the impression that the lemon square was seen as a childhood delicacy bestowed upon apple-cheeked ten-year olds who loved their stay-at-home moms, which was why I chose it as the quote-unquote peace offering during an era of terrible conflict.
I'm pretty sure I needn't tell you that I was not an apple-cheeked ten-year-old. But it's okay, because I'm pretty sure most of you weren't [...]
Before I begin, let's get something out of the way before you all start howling "Dixie" in the comments: I'm not Southern. Not even close. But I do love bourbon and wearing fanciful hats designed to match colorful sundresses and sporting events that only take up three minutes of my actual time (three minutes? Is that correct, sporty ladies? Hoof over here and explain to your batty auntie how these horse races happen!) and therefore I go wild for the Kentucky Derby. And every year I get to trot out one of my signature recipes, which I would be tempted to describe as The Best Thing I Make [...]
And now the second of our Super Bowl-applicable recipes!
Dear Jewish and/or poor friends-have you ever wondered what WASPs eat? Trick question. WASPs don't eat! They drink. But they do like to put food out and feign eating. There are three WASP foodstuffs for setting out and feigning eating, but the one I'm here to talk to you about today is mayonnaise. (The other two, cucumbers and shrimp, are only around because they're pink and green and cold, and WASPs like food created in their own image.)
With Valentine's Day nearly upon us, you may be looking for a lovely pink drink to serve your beloved.
This is not that drink.
This is the drink you make when you want to get your beloved utterly blotto on Valentine's Day (ANAL). But let's be honest, shall we? You won't be serving this to your paramour, you unlovable piece of shit, you'll be making it for the sad, sad SINGLE AND READY TO MINGLE party you're desperately trying to convince yourself is exactly-EXACTLY! I'D HAVE IT NO OTHER WAY! ME? I'M SOOOOO GLAD I'M SINGLE!-how you want to be celebrating Valentine's Day.