On Sunday Ben and I are traveling home to Wisconsin for two (!) whole weeks. I couldn’t be more thrilled! In my mind I am already drifting belly-up on the lake (which I hear is super warm this year), ice cream sandwich in hand, the distinct bouquet of sunscreen mixed with grilled meats wafting through my brain. It’s going to be very, very rad. Corequisite to my excitement, I am also experiencing my typical pre-travel tailspin into madness and worst-case-scenarios. I have imagined all the ways
If you follow me on instagram you may have noticed my bold statement earlier in the week, involving chimichurri sauce and pesto, and how the former can defeat the ass of the latter any day of the week. I love making factual-esque statements about things that are actually entirely subjective. However, I concede that condiments really are in the eye of the beholder. Or something.
I’m doubtful anyone besides my mother has noticed, but I took a break from the blog for a few months. I tried to keep up during the winter season, but the near-complete lack of sunlight made for some intensely frustrating photo shoots. Many were scrapped. It was very discouraging, to say the least. I sensed my pattern of self-sabotage creeping up behind me
Guys, I am in a funk. And it’s not like James Brown’s funk, or the Isley Brothers’ funk. It’s a very non-awesome, kind-of toxic, super-blarghy-ultra-screw-up-expialidocious…funk. I’m making uncharacteristically dumb mistakes at work, my sleep schedule is out the window, and all I can seem to do right is binge watching Grey’s Anatomy in bed covered in cats who, at times, seem dubious about my hygiene (understandably).
Our first stop on this tour of everything-bagelization: soft pretzel bites. Have you made pretzel bites yet? Wowzer. They are every bit as incredible as typical soft pretzels (these taste just like Auntie Anne’s and I do not make that comparison lightly), but with a two-bite size that is made for Superbowl parties. Or movie nights, or days ending in y. Add some everything bagel sprinkle to this equation and you have yourself a truly next-level, transcendent snack food.
This jalapeno cheddar cornbread whips up fast and easy- it’s the perfect savory/sweet accompaniment to all your soups this season!
I’m not sure how clear I have made this in the past, but I really really hate Winter. SO much. I am a huge weiner, about it too, despite having spent the first 26 winters of my life in Wisconsin, where the struggle is REAL. And as for Fall… Fall would be great if it didn’t lead right into Winter- it’s basically the Sunday afternoon of seasons, if you think about it. All of this is to say that, if you need me, I shall be face-down in a steamy bowl of soup for roughly the next five months. It’s going to be a lot of soup.
I am not the first to sprinkle sugar on top of some yogurt, torch it, and call it breakfast creme brulee- in fact the concept is kind of having a moment right now. I first ran across bruleed yogurt on pinterest and it was easy enough to try out for myself a few times, but each time I found it a bit lacking in body and richness. Even the thickest Icelandic yogurt cannot compare to the custardous luxury of true creme brulee in its traditional dessert form, that is true, and I had no delusions that it would fool me to begin with. I am very good at knowing what is dessert and what is not dessert.
It’s with great pleasure that I announce that Humbledish is now one year old! Yay, Humbledish! Ben and I celebrated this milestone with a layered funfetti cake with rosé buttercream. And donuts on top. Because donuts. It is a smashing cake that my coworkers are feasting on this very moment, and the recipe can be found on the bottom of this post, as always. I’ll talk more about the cake shortly, but I’d like to use the front end of this post to reflect on the last year, as well as my goals for the future. It just seems like the right thing to do, ya know? Feel free to scroll ahead past all the blah-blah-blah, if you wish.
I’ve been making pork potstickers for family and friends for years- they have always been improvised and slightly unique each time, and I never wrote the recipe down until I prepared the little dumplins you see pictured before you. We took a long camping weekend up in Washington last month with some loved ones where I was reminded by Ben’s cousin Alex that I once made these potstickers for him several years ago, long before we all migrated to our respective corners of the Pacific Northwest. He told me emphatically that they were so delicious that he has since never forgotten about them. It warmed my heart! The whiskey helped, too.
Suddenly, it’s late August. The Dog Days. Try as we might, it’s hard to hold onto these last few breaths of Summer, isn’t it? The signals are all around us- the corn’s drying up, the berries have gone to mush, and if you look to the edges of the sidewalk you might just see a few yellowed crunchy leaves, arriving embarrassingly early to the party. For those of us who live for Summer, it’s a sort of in-between time of grieving and desperation.