For my brother, eating like a king means daily breakfast meats. You know, bacon, sausage and the like (although really, what else is there besides bacon?)
And it's got me thinking about what food -- however simple -- makes me feel like I'm living high on the hog.
I think I've figured it out. Good quality seafood.
I'm not sure why mussels feels like an extravagance for us when, for 9 dollars total, we each get a huge bowl of mussels. But it does feel indulgent -- and we feel like kings.
Throughout this entire meal of simply prepared mussels with french fries and mustard mayo and some roasted veggies, both Jeff and I couldn't stop ooing and ahhhing, loudly enjoying each bite, and filling the space between bites with declarations of never moving far from the ocean.
If you could bottle the ocean (I mean, obviously that would be quite easy but I'm talking about essence of that salty air) in a bite, that would be these mussels, cooked in white wine, butter, garlic and onion. It's almost too simple.
And the best pairings? French fries and mustard mayo for dipping. Hands down. It will take you on a trip to France before you've even had a moment to think about what to pack. We enjoyed ours with a Duvel beer -- a Belgian for the full experience.
This is from Gourmet, so I'll just send you on over for the recipe.
Pssst, Glenda. Don't make this at home. Just come over to our house on Saturday night!
Some friends of ours brought me four beautiful, embroidered fabric panels from their trip to Laos. Now that they're expecting a wee one, I thought I'd give one of the panels back in a very useful form: a drawstring bag.
The rest were made into mini blankets for all the mini things that take naps at our house.
Easter is fast approaching and I want to get some serious crafting happening 'round here because, as I've said before, my kid has a thing for bunnies. Imagine her delight with a whole holiday decked with bunny rabbits!
So what, you ask? Well, after 11 years of knitting, I finally knit something for me that doesn't go around my neck or on my head. A sweater, people. A bonafide, adult-sized sweater. I'm feeling proud -- and plum.
My favorite part is the neckline. (Feeling a bit funny about modeling the sweater for ya'll, but since you can't really tell anything about a sweater until you see it on someone, it was either me or Jeff.)
And finally, it's time for a confession: I already bought the wool for another sweater pour moi. It'll be green and cable-y.
I know what you're thinking -- watch out, this could become a terribly time-consuming addiction. But I'm not too worried. I know that deep down (well, not that deep) I'm too impatient to stick with these sorts of big projects for long. I like my knitting satisfaction to come quick n' easy.
I smell like lavender. It's lovely, really. I'll let you know how it turns out in the long run, but right now I smell like lavender.
I've been wanting to try making deodorant for a while now. None of the 'natural' deodorants that I've tried really work that great, it bugs me that none of their plastic is recyclable, and I'm kind of scared of the ingredients in anti-persperants.
When I came across this recipe, I was inspired. I talked a friend into splitting the first batch: hippy party, check.
We had some trouble sourcing the cocoa butter (at a price we were willing to pay) and after much discussion with folks who seemed to know what they were talking about, we got talked into coconut oil instead. I was a little worried about having to cover up the scent of coconut (not my fave) instead of cocoa bean, but it was actually shea butter's strong scent that was the holdout. But given enough lavender essential oil, even shea butter can be knocked down to just a hint.
Add all of the ingredients except the essential oil in a small glass bowl and melt in the microwave for about 20 seconds (coconut oil gets hot quickly.) Stir well. Start adding the essential oil and keep adding and stirring until it's the desired scent. Pour into jars and put in the fridge to set. Once it's cool, you can store it at room temperature (but it won't be as solid as in the fridge.)