{Originally Published on Gourmet Chick}

The best excuse ever to eat eye popping amounts of pork is to gather together 18 of your closest friends and book a whole pig at St. John Restaurant in Farringdon in London, England. You really do need to book the pig in advance. A deposit of £320 at least a week before your meal is required to reserve the pig which we affectionately began to refer to as Percy. Yes, Percy would die for our eating pleasure however where else but St. John’s to best appreciate and pay tribute to the life of the pig. The head chef at St. John Restaurant, Fergus Henderson, is the champion of the concept of ‘nose to tail’ eating. We could be sure that every part of the pig would be appreciated in all it’s glory and used and consumed right down to the last trotter.

For the privilege of eating a whole pig our group is allocated the private room at the front of the restaurant. Just around the corner from the Smithfield meat markets, the austere white washed walls of the restaurant and the waiters clad in butchers aprons are a nod to the area’s continuing carnivorous traditions. The bone marrow served with parsley salad is St John’s signature dish so I have no intention of passing up an opportunity to sample the bone marrow despite the lashings of pork that was to follow.

{Originally published on SusieJ}

This summer, our hill at the lake will be used in yet another ingenious way: to make ice cream for our root beer floats. I was tempted to buy the traditional ice cream maker, but there are so many choices; I quickly became overwhelmed looking at all the bells and whistles. And besides, I have all that boy power just dying to get put to use. Plus, the process of making ice cream by hand… literally…. in the can… is is a great way to introduce some lessons in science. There is the ice cream in a bag method; my boys would surely break the bag in the mixing process. So, I’ve decided to go with the ice cream in a can method.

1. The first challenge is finding the can. Many recipes suggest using
   a coffee can, but who buys coffee in a can anymore? A better idea is
   to ask for an empty paint can from the paint store. You’ll need two: A
   quart, and a gallon.
2. Ask your kids to tell you the freezing point of water — or teach
   them — 32 degrees F, or 0 Celcius. Then, ask them what happens when we
   put salt on icy sidewalks. Ask them to start thinking about why we need
   salt to make ice cream.
3. In the small, clean can, add one cup of milk or half and half, one cup of sugar, and one teaspoon of vanilla.
4. Optional: add one tablespoon of chocolate syrup — or frozen strawberries.
5. Use a hammer to seal the lid tightly.
6. In the larger can, combine the ice and rock salt. Use a thermometer to record the temperature of the rock and salt mixture.
7. Use hammer again to seal the lid tightly.
8. Take turns rolling the can down the hill, for about five minutes. This will “solidify” the ice cream.
9. Explain what’s happening: the ice melts and combines with the salt.
   This “brine” has a lower freezing point — lower than 32 degrees.
10. After five minutes of rolling, open the large can, and take the
    temperature of the ice. It will be colder than it was the first time.
11. Open the smaller can. The colder brine was able to get the milk
    mixture cold enough to freeze the milk mixture to make it solid, to
    create ice cream.
12. You know you’re going to have to whip up another batch right now; the fun was really rolling the can down the hill.

{Originally Published on Food Loves Writing}

Morning, and the kitchen is quiet, with sunlight streaming across the sink and onto the wood floors, and I pour coffee, grab my lunch, take my keys from the little basket by the door. There will be 20 minutes at least, between me and the office, along expressways of commuters, and I will look at them, talking on their phones, singing with their radios, glancing at their watches, before I park and walk inside, up stairs to my desk, to begin the work day, to talk with my coworkers and double-check spellings at Merriam-Webster and watch the geese fly past my window and onto the roof.

5:30, and I’m getting in my car, like I’ve done so many times, and I’m stopping by the train station, like I do every day, and I’m walking in my front door, and I’m eating dinner, again. It’s spring here—when did spring come? Weren’t we just talking about fall and winter and how I hated the snow? The light lasts longer now, and the days are warmer, rainy. I take it all, eagerly, greedily, like it will never end.

You know, I’m only 26—I find myself throwing the only in there more and more, the way it’s inserted into excuses from guilty children like, I only skipped one homework assignment or I only said that because the other kids did. But as much as I know we are guaranteed nothing, in terms of time, in terms of living, I also know 26 is, usually, not a lot of life to have lived and, usually, it’s not enough time to warrant strong opinions or heavy reminiscing. But I do: I look at the moments around me—the way the grass looks when it’s wet, shiny with dew and fragrant with summer; how my mom makes me laugh when she does, when her mouth closes and her nose widens and her eyes slant, just slightly, as her body shakes, like her mother’s did; the kindness someone shows you when he carries in your bags, so you don’t have to—and I think, I am living this.

This, right here—the morning coffee and the conversation and the drive home in daylight to a cozy evening with a book and blankets—this is life, and it’s a gift, and I am living this.

{Originally posted on Fit Bottomed Girls}

The Fit Bottomed Girls are all about enjoying all that life has to offer, and sometimes life offers dessert. And the FBGs love us some dessert—and not just the fat-free type. Unfortunately, over consumption of mouth-watering desserts can get in the way of maintaining a fit bottom, and most of them aren’t exactly easy to make anyway. Have you ever actually tried making a Martha Stewart dessert? I did it once in college, and after a whole day in the kitchen, while staring at a smug photo of Martha with her perfectly frosted lemon cake, I began to feel inadequate in all areas of my life. (If I can’t get this dang cake’s icing smooth, how will I ever find a job, let alone start a solid career?!)

The FBGs are here to help (and hopefully save you from any of the above-mentioned self esteem snafus). We have a recipe that is so easy even the baking-impaired can succeed. And I personally guarantee its deliciousness. The muffins may not win in a taste test with Martha’s desserts, but you can make them in less than 30 minutes and maintain your sanity.

For the Punk-in Muffins (“punk-in” has a double meaning here, acting both as slang for “pumpkin” and as a verb: punk-ing desserts Ashton-Kutcher style), you take a regular box of spice cake mix and mix it with only a 15-oz. can of pumpkin. If you can find a reduced-sugar spice cake mix you get bonus points.

Two important points to remember:

1. Only mix the cake mix and the can of pumpkin together. Do not—and I repeat do not—add eggs, water, oil, etc. The batter will be thick, but it’s right. Girl Scout’s honor.
2. Do not use a can of pumpkin-pie filling. Get the plain, pureed, boring regular can of pumpkin.

Mix the two ingredients together well, and spoon batter equally into 12 regular muffin tins lined with paper or sprayed with non-stick spray. Bake at 400 degrees for 20 minutes. Eat and enjoy guilt-free. Each big muffin has about 180 calories, 2 grams of fiber, 2 grams of protein and 4 grams of fat, and is filled multiple grams of pumpkiny spicy goodness.

And if you’re feeling extra adventurous, try the same base recipe with different flavors of cake mix. Lemon cake mix creates a fun, summery orange sherbet flavor, and any type of chocolate cake mix is delicious. You really can’t taste the pumpkin with the chocolate, and it’s super fudgy and moist. I made these last weekend during an intense chocolate craving. You can see the deliciousness!

Originally published on Gild the Voodoolily.

Last weekend Scott and I went to the coast for the night. I had been having an uncharacteristic jones for the hubbub of Seaside and its bumper cars, corn dogs, caramel corn and salt water taffy, but we couldn’t find a room there and so settled for Astoria. A couple of hours of walking around Seaside and taking in the delicious smells of childhood was enough to sate me, and the crowds made me glad for our reservation in the sleepy history of Astoria.

Our hotel was adjacent to the marina, and if you wanted to spend ~$200/person and 12 hours on a cloudy sea you could partake of a charter fishing trip for tuna, salmon, halibut and/or dungeness crab. Even better, you could just walk down the pier and buy fresh albacore from a dude on his boat for only $1.50/lb. Having had some foresight, we had packed an empty cooler and bought an 18-lb schoolie from the guy.

“You want me to fillet it for you?”

“Nah, I think I can handle it,” I say smugly, having seen that one episode of Top Chef where the Quick Fire Challenge was to fillet fish.

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Originally published on Kalyn’s Kitchen

This time I’m writing about one of my very favorite summer vegetables, spagetti squash (also spelled spaghetti squash), so it’s luckily for me that WHB can be about any type of herb, vegetable, plant, or flower. I learned from Wikipedia that spagetti squash is also called vegetable spaghetti, vegetable marrow, noodle squash or squaghetti. Squash is something I’ll be eating a lot of over the next few months as my garden starts to produce it in copious amounts.

Squashes are divided into winter squash (which ripen late in the season, can be stored through the winter, have hard outer rinds, and must be eaten cooked) and summer squash (which can be eaten rind, seeds, and all, and which can be eaten raw.) I like every type of squash, but in my garden I mainly grow summer squash since the winter squashes produce huge vines and take a lot of space. Winter squash is something I’ll be buying from the Salt Lake Farmer’s Market later in the season.

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Originally published on craftykeg.

I love twice baked potatoes. If they weren’t food, I would marry twice baked potatoes. So, when my sister and I were talking about a side dish to make for a party at her house (during the weekend of our brother’s college graduation!), we were sad that twice baked potatoes would be too much work for 27 people. So, we decided to turn it into a casserole! It was a hit, and was all gone by the end of the night! The recipe is below.

Originally published on The Leftover Queen

This is one of my go-to recipes, one of those early recipes I devised out of leftovers which has since then given me the title of “Leftover Queen”. I have been thinking a lot lately about my food philosophy, where it came from and how I have become the kind of cook that I am. I am a cook born out of passion combined with necessity. I learned from an early age from my grandparents and my mom that leftovers can be a wonderful thing. I come from a big Italian extended family and so we were always cooking for large groups of people, which meant that we usually cooked more than was necessary which ultimately left us with a lot of leftovers.

It was a tradition in my mom’s house that when the fridge was too overwrought with leftover containers that we would have what we called a smörgåsbord, which is actually a Swedish word meaning “sandwich table”, but has been translated into English vernacular to mean a buffet or variety of hot and cold dishes.

It was my favorite time of the week as I got to have little bites and tastes of all the foods I had enjoyed over the course of the last week, and it allowed to experiment with different flavor combinations – like mixing corn into mashed potatoes or combining various dishes together to create a completely new meal.

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