I’m going back to my roots and it tastes delicious.
I realize that I haven’t baked a legit bread in what seems like forever (said like Squints in “Sandlot,” ALWAYS). And considering that this blog is foundationally about bread, I felt I was doing you all a disservice. So, here we are.
I’ve had ciabatta on the docket for what feels like a bazillion years, but I just never got around to it. I couldn’t even tell you why — especially after taking one bite of it and realizing this may be one of the best breads I’ve ever baked. Of course, that led to me kicking myself for not making it sooner, but I suppose it was because I was too busy dunking my face in prosecco-poached peaches and queso fundido — which, I feel, is a pretty good excuse.
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In the nearly four years we’ve been married, my husband and I have learned most of each others’ quirks. Like how I have a very specific sense of order about my things and if they are moved even an inch by my husband, I notice. Or, how he couldn’t care less about the cleanliness of our apartment, but his shirts must be folded perfectly. Or, how he believes anything above 40 degrees outside is “shorts weather,” whereas I could be up to my neck in a snuggie until July — unless it’s nighttime, in which case he’s freezing all night and I always feel like a marshmallow roasting over a fire.
It doesn’t stop when it comes to food, either. While we both do love a good Chipotle run, I definitely have my “single girl” dinners (read: salad, quinoa, Velveeta mac n’ cheese, cookies) whereas he has his own preferences (read: Chips, pizza rolls, frozen pizza, beer). Oftentimes we can agree on a home-cooked meal that satisfies both sets of tastebuds, but it doesn’t always happen. And sometimes, I’m surprised by what he actually does like (because really, it’s mostly chips and pizza).
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A few announcements:
Firstly, THANK YOU for the wonderful birthday wishes. I never cease to be amazed by how lovely the blogging community is and I am so blessed to be a part of it. I heart you all big time and I’m giving you all virtual bear hugs right now. I hope you don’t mind.
Secondly, Mother’s Day weekend is coming up quick, y’all! Have you figured out what you’re doing for your mama on Sunday? I’m not going to lie: I’m copping out this year and we’re going out to eat for brunch (there’s nearly 10 of us getting together and I’m not willing to put them all through the disaster that is me making breakfast for a crowd pre-10 a.m., when I’ve surely only had one cup of coffee so far).
That said, if you’re plans are of the more ambitious variety, mayhaps these prosecco-poached peaches atop Liberte’s coconut yogurt will make it to your menu? That’s a rhetorical question, really.
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(This giveaway is closed.) I’m turning 26 on Wednesday and I don’t feel ready for it.
What I mean is, I just don’t feel 26 years old (or how I thought it was supposed to feel, anyway). I still put the water pitcher back in the fridge empty sometimes, much to the chagrin of the husband. I still don’t know how to do my own taxes. I don’t separate my reds from my darks when I do laundry because I’m too lazy. I don’t go to the dentist twice a year or floss every day like I should. I still get excited when I hear the music from the ice cream truck down the street. And sometimes, when I’ve had a rough day, I feel the urge to cuddle up with my old blankie.
That said, I’m excited to turn another year older. I love being a (mostly) grownup. I like being able to do my own thang; I like being able to vote and to drive and to have a beverage with bourbon in it and to not get grounded when I come home later than 11 p.m. And I like having the freedom to be in charge of my own health and nutrition.
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Everything’s finally coming up spring around here, you guys! (Read: I’m totally ignoring the snow forecast for today.) We planted our first herb garden ever over the weekend and hung up string lights on the balcony. We had our first meal al fresco and the husband went for his first bike ride of the season (my bike is soon-to-be in transit from my parents’ house… I’ll see you soon, sweet friend!). My freckles are making a comeback. And I’m getting on a spring-induced health kick.
Don’t worry — I’m still planning a fair share of posts of the cheesy, sweet and all-around not-good-for-you-but-oh-so-tasty-for-you variety. But for now, can we talk about muffins? Specifically, healthy vegan muffins? With cranberries and cherries and granola inside them? K thanks. You won’t be sorry, I promise.
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It’s official: I cannot be trusted around cheese.
It doesn’t matter, really, what kind of cheese it is — soft, hard, shredded, string, stinky, mild, sharp — it all comes into play. But if it’s warm and gooey and melty like what you see above, I’m especially unruly. Come within three feet of me and my queso fundido and I might have to fight you. Just saying. It’s a tough world out there, and this girl’s got to protect her cheese.
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