Archives for category: Baked goods

This is a part of a little series called “Five Senses Friday.” The general gist is that you reflect on a moment in your day by way of your five senses: taste, touch, sight, sound and smell. Bomb dot com Sarah over at Pink of Perfection does it every other week or so and I think it’s just a splendid way to kick off the weekend!

Hearing ~ The hilarity that is a Neil Simon play read by a group of talented Olympians.

Seeing ~ A very green wall.

Smelling ~ Ginger, melted butter, baked fruit and…wood shavings. (That last one is what I consider to be the universal scent of theaters. Oh how it makes me shiver! Sigh. I’m home.)

Tasting ~ Bright, juicy pears from the Olympia Farmer’s market, warm and flaky puff pastry, spicy grated ginger and simply sweet, apricot jam.

Feeling ~ A side-cramp I’ve developed from laughing my little a** off for the past 2.5 hours. “Plaza Suite” cast/Neil Simon, I heart you.

Happy Friday all!

p.s. You’ll find the recipe for that tasty galette after the jump!

~Brittni Read the rest of this entry »

Alright kids, this is the final Florida post from my recent Marco Island adventure. 

I know, I know. Sad day.

But look on the bright side! Now we get to move on to happy spring things like farmer’s markets and asparagus and sunshine! Okay, we might have to take a “rain check” on the sunshine ~ it is April in Washington after all. (Get it? Rain check? Ha! I kill me). I digress. Back to the beach we go…

P.S. props go to my padre for the stellar post title!

So, my last day of sun-soaked goodness happened to also be Easter Sunday. And what better way to celebrate than a crazy huge, food coma inducing meal! Okay, yeah I guess you could go to church (and don’t worry I did ~ on the beach even). But for now, let’s just stick to food. 

And so I present to you an Easter feast, courtesy of my loud and proud extended Italian family.  Read the rest of this entry »

If Holly Golightly were my psychiatrist, then yesterday she would have diagnosed me with a bad case of the “mean reds.”

Translation: I was in a horrible mood and had no idea why.

(If you don’t know which film I am referencing, then go here right now and have some breakfast at Tiffany’s.)

To make it worse, the sun was shining and my boyfriend drove down to take me out to lunch. So not only was I moody, but everything – even the weather – was being nice to me. This of course only made me feel worse for being a downer in the first place.

So, I did what any self-respecting girl does when she’s feeling a little “red.”

I went home and made dessert.

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If there is one thing I loved growing up, it was make believe. I’d come downstairs and begin my day as one character or another, complete with a costume and the occasional prop. “Alright Brittni, who are you today?” my parents would have to ask. You see, I wouldn’t answer them unless addressed by my “real” name.

A few of my finer moments include the time I scotch-taped a butter knife to my leg in an attempt to mimic Julia Roberts as Tinkerbell in the movie “Hook.” Or the day I decided to steal mom’s eyeliner pencil, smudge it on my face to look like dirt and scrub the floors with a toothbrush a la Cinderella before her fairy godmother showed up.

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Now I might only be 1/4 Irish, but like any good lass I enjoy a festive St. Patrick’s Day celebration. Thankfully, now that I have joined the ranks of the 21+, my festivities involve a bit more than wearing green and pinching all you unfortunates who always forget to don your emerald hues.

But before we cut into that corned beef and pour the Lucky Charms I thought it best to take a moment and honor one of Ireland’s most esteemed beverages…

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How do begin your mornings? With a hot latte and The New York Times? A bowl of honey nut Cheerios with sliced banana? By hitting the snooze button?

I usually start the day racing around my kitchen banging together a tasty (and hopefully nutritious) lunch. Then I pop some bread in the toaster, slather it with peanut butter (not while in the toaster – that would just be silly), and run out the door with a mug of milk in one hand and my toast in the other. This is usually when I freak out and run back inside, thinking I’ve left my hair straightener on.

We all have our morning breakfast traditions. However, I have recently come to the conclusion that these traditions can quickly turn into ruts from which it is very hard to climb out of no matter how sick and tired we are of, say, peanut butter toast and a mug of milk. Don’t get me wrong…I love me some PB toast, just not every day for 3 months.

Are you feeling the same way readers? Do you need to add some spice to your breakfast table/car dashboard? Yes?

Then lets bake a few muffins!

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I love the moment right after a comforting meal when the last dish has been dried, dessert is in the oven and I’m relaxing on the couch with my guy.  I sigh as the smell of warm honey slowly fills my home. All is right with the world.

And that’s when the kitchen gods decide to smite.

“OH (WORD I WON’T INCLUDE SINCE IT WOULD BE RATHER UN-CLASSY ON A BLOG)!”

I forgot to put the bread pudding in its hot water bath.

Before you know it I’m leaping off the couch and over the cat, making a mad dash to the kitchen where I nearly forget to put on oven mitts as I wrench the baking pan of citrus pignole bliss out of the oven. Luckily it had only been in there for 12 minutes.

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