Slow Cooker Dulce de Leche

A confession: before I made it myself, I had never eaten dulce de leche. This was a travesty, because it is clearly the best caramel ever. It's dark and sweet, but not too sweet, and milky and lovely and I have found myself, for the past few days, sneaking nibbles of it straight from the jar. Also eating a lot more bananas because it is amazing with banana and that way I can tell myself that at least part of my snack is healthy.

Spruce Gin Collins

I generally prefer to drink gin in the summer, when the combination of of complex herbal notes and the bitter twang of tonic make a perfect counterpoint to sun and heat. A tall glass with a wedge of lime is all I long for when the days are warm.

Rosemary Parmesan Shortbread

I love baking shortbread because it’s such a wonderful blank slate. It’s great plain, buttery and crumbly, and sometimes that’s what I crave. But I also like to put fun flavors into it. Like, for example, rosemary. Because, you see, rosemary is the one plant that I reliably do not kill over the winter. It helps that it can withstand both drought and downpour, and if I remember to soak every week or two and then leave it by a window, it gets by until the next spring.

Slow Cooker Shredded Pork Tacos with Slaw

My slow cooker fascination is, I believe, by now well documented. And the cabbage fixation is moving along well also, so that’s good. The truth of the matter is that I’m not actually obsessed with pork, but recently Nick very wisely took advantage of a two-for-one sale at the local Acme, and thus we had two pork roasts on our hands.

Irish Oatmeal with Peanut Butter and Nutella, or how I celebrate St. Patrick's Day

The first thing you should know is that I really kind of hate St. Patrick's Day. In this I am joined by all right thinking people.

The second thing you should know is that I have never, to my knowledge, consumed corned beef. I'm not even sure what it is. I will probably find out one day, and then I'll blog about it. Until then, I'm okay with gustatorily celebrating St. Patrick's with oatmeal. 

Slow Cooker Pork Roast with Sweet & Sour Cabbage and Sweet Potatoes

I love this meal not just because it’s purple and orange and pork-colored, not just because it’s delicious and fairly healthy, but because it takes exactly one dish to make: one slow cooker, to be exact. Yes, I’m still going on with the slow cooker love. Get used to it.

Split Pea Soup: Sympathy for the Toddler

Yesterday Little Z and I arrived home to the perfume of split pea soup wafting through the apartment. I had done my best to build up the idea of soup for dinner, and I had hopes that she might actually, as she so delicately phrases it, “put it in the mouth” (accompanied by gesture: wide open mouth, finger pointing toward).

On the way home we had established that we would have cheesy bread, grapes, and yogurt as well as soup for dinner. So the cheese, fruit, and yogurt food groups would all be well represented. These represent the greater part of Little Z's current diet.

I’m not going to keep you in suspense here, people. Little Z did not eat the soup. She took one look at that lumpy green mess and said, “No eat soup.” And then repeated that about 50 times. There was one moment when I dipped my cheesy bread into the soup and took a bite when Z got interested and briefly held out her cheesy bread and said, “dip?” But by the time I shoved my bowl toward her, the moment had passed. “No eat soup.”

I have to admit, I have some sympathy for the toddler. Split pea soup is not inherently delicious looking. I recognize that it takes time and experience to understand that this ugly stuff is actually good to eat. So it’s cool, Little Z. Maybe next time you’ll take a taste. Or the time after that.

A Love Letter to my Slow Cooker

Have I yet waxed lyrical on here about my slow cooker?

If not, this is the last place I’m getting around to it. I fucking love my slow cooker. We’ve been together for over a year now, so I think I can safely say it’s love.

Eh.

And then there are the days when you cook and cook and finally sit down to what should be a glorious dinner and say, “Eh.”

This happened yesterday. I had big cooking plans for my Sunday afternoon, as I often do. I try to cook a lot over the weekend—a goal that I have long aspired to but only recently achieved. Now that I have a toddler, it has become a necessity. Many days there simply isn’t time to cook between when we get home from work and daycare and when Little Z needs to fill her small but growing belly. A stash of leftovers is imperative.