Every once in awhile in a person’s life, you find that one special restaurant. You know what I am talking about, your default place. It may not be the best food, location and/or ambience, but it keeps you coming back for that Cheers “Where everybody knows your name” feeling.
This upcoming weekend is Memorial Day weekend, or in Minnesota, the kick-off to Summer. We not only use this weekend to remember those who died while serving our country, but we also use it to connect with friends and family, pot our plants, take out the patio furniture from the garage, open our pools, take our inaugural pontoon ride and grill a feast for kings and queens. So what are you bringing to this year’s Memorial Day picnic?
Yelling. Lots of yelling. Sometimes a positive “YES!!!!!” Sometimes a negative “no. no. No. NO!! NOOOOO!!!!” This is how I remember popovers being made when I was growing up. Getting ingredients to work together to pop-up in a beautiful, fluffy way can be completely magical and, often times, a complete disappointment. No matter how they turn out…to me at least…popovers are my mom’s thing.
Chad and I are attempting to cut foods out of our diet, eating as “clean” as we can. This charged, “fad” word can have different interpretations and can certainly be confusing. All I know is that you can still eat steak.
Being a new mom, I feel like I’ve lost every spontaneous cell in my body. I’m finding out that a little one requires a pretty rigid routine (unless you’re one that enjoys zombie cries at night).
“If there was a house of Cheese, I would definitely live in it” stated Chad this afternoon. And he would…likely without inviting Elliot and me.
An oh so familiar scene…You start small. You cut and devour a 1″x 1″ section. Then you slice another sliver off. And another. By the time the night is over, only small crumbs remain in that clear glass pan.
I think I am Jewish. I don’t have 100% proof (other than my deep love for Jewish food and culture), but our ancestors DID flee from Russia to Germany and changed their name from Meyer to Mayer. Just saying. So I celebrate my potential Jewish heritage through cooking and appreciation for such a deep, historical religion and culture.