Grilled zucchini with salty cured meat and some creamy provolone cheese, all layered together with toasted bread makes one heck of a summer sandwich. How do I know this? Well, I’ve made it two times in the past month and am now planning a third.
A bigger bonus is that I can do it all on our handy-dandy panini press that we received as a wedding gift years back.
Wow. Wow. Wow. It’s really been three weeks worth of wooooooows since I posted the Apfel kuchen recipe. Since then, a lot has changed – don’t worry – all good things. Let’s just say that the carefree, garden-tending, cooking, blogging, art-making, mommying-filled, leisurely summer I had pictured in my mind’s eye earlier this month has now transitioned to…
“Umm…is this spicy? Cause I don’t eat spicy foods.” “No, it’s actually a little sweet. Think of how sweet and savory flavors go together sometimes.” “Okay,” he says cautiously as he takes his first bite. “Oooh, it’s actually good!”
A funk. That’s right. I’m writing this on Sunday at the end of Spring Break (by the way, woo-hoo!) and that is where I find myself. A bonafide stalled-out, borderline-Negative Nancy, unsure-how-I-feel-about-the-world funk.
Is it the gloomy, wet weather outside? Was it being up twice last night to crying Miss M.? Am I being a spoiled snot who is ungrateful for a week off?
These four little words were uttered upon first bite by esteemed and well-respected food critic, hubby Ryan.
Today’s recipe? The Seriously-Super Martha Stewart-Trumping Stuffed Greek Peppers. Okay, maybe just calling them Greek Stuffed Peppers will suffice. And they might not be as good as Martha’s, but what recipe is?
Before I rant about these peppers, though, a story of triumph…
Old Man Winter has the nasty habit of bringing in frigid temps and, normally, I embrace the ambiance. Snow, cold, a warm fire. You get it. But recently, with the cold came the cold I feel…in my face.
Yes. In my face.
I feel like my head, nose, and throat have been put in a vice. A twisted old rope pulled and twisted tight. A nauseating, shoot-me-now feeling. For the past few days, I have had more of a relationship with a Kleenex box than with my daughter or husband.