Weekend Frig: Yes, I am 12 Years Old

But you already knew that.

This pic was taken by faithful and intrepid reader Gary, also known as my father-in-law. Because he is also 12 years old, or possibly younger, so point the finger at him if it brings on an attack of the vapors.

Yes, I know people in other English-speaking countries have different words for things and why should this be funny? But I speak American English and it just fucking is, like “bumbershoot.”

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Waterloo du patisserie, deuxieme

I know what you’re thinking; “That blurry macaron in the foreground looks almost kinda normal! Well done!” Nice and smooth, frilly bottom, filled with chocolaty goodness. Don’t be fooled. The reality is the developmentally-disabled, broken, battered thing that’s in focus. Yes, that’s right: even when it looks as if I’ve succeeded, I fail.

My oven is where macarons come to die.

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Waterloo du patisserie, le premiere part.

It’s so nice to officially be on vacation, to be able to stay up late, sitting by the twinkly Christmas tree, taking the time to reflect on a day spent puttering in the kitchen with Christmas baking – I cozied up with the KitchenAid, sifted and whipped and piped, sang along to the best version of “Jingle Bells” (Sinatra), and failed utterly to produce a single correctly-formed macaron. God, I love the holidays.

Also, on Christmas – which, if you don’t know, is tomorrow – I turn 31 AND I discovered several new gray hairs along my part today. Why are they always along the part, and why do they corkscrew away from the rest of my hair like that? But I will try to confine this post to a single depressing topic.*

*Random factoid #371: I actually kinda like the gray hairs, and secretly look forward to being an old lady with crazy long thick curly white hair. Also I will take up metalworking, like the grandma in “Twister”.

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I didn't have a single drink, ocifer.

Sometimes Smackdowns don’t work out as well as I’d like and that’s okay, I love them all just the same.  Well, except for this one. Oh, and this one; this one was just the nastiest one of the year and I repudiate it completely.  But all the other ones, I love just the same.  Especially when they leave me with leftover custard sauce.  Because what is leftover custard sauce, really, other than inchoate ice cream waiting to be made into ice cream?

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Thursday Night Smackdown: That's a big nooder

Man, I cannot WAIT for that new Howie Mandel Candid Camera-Punk’d hybrid show, can you? It is going to be off the fucking hook.

Whoa, sorry! Where did that come from? TV rots your brains, kids. Also, stay away from crack.

A while ago I put up a little poll asking you, my trustworthy readers, to vote on what new cookbook I should buy with my hard-earned Amazon kickbacks referral fees. Hot Sour Salty Sweet initially looked like it was going to sweep, but The Splendid Table made a last minute surge to tie things up, leaving me with the tie-breaking vote.

I then forgot all about it for two months until I was doing some Christmas shopping on Amazon, when I picked Splendid Table up for myself. It came this week, and I was immediately drawn to the Hoisin Chinese Noodles with Four Flavors. There are few things upon which hoisin cannot improve, and to have that plus four entire flavors? Unfathomable! FOUR FLAVORS? Truly, the world is full of marvels.

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Liveblogging Top Chef: Episode 6

Tonight: MARTHA.  I’m trying to keep an open mind. I’ve been scared of her ever since I saw a Christmas episode of her show where she covered the WHOLE SIDE of her house with chicken wire and painstakingly wove evergreen boughs into it until the the entire side was covered.  You know, for a festive look.  That is not the behavior of a sane woman.  That is the behavior of a woman who has torched Santa’s workshop out of jealous rage and had all the elves sent down to Bedford in shipping containers to spend the season making homemade ornaments out of twigs and hand-spun silk. Continue reading