So in an attempt to make the most of my money, I’ve been making an effort to cook out of my batrillion cookbooks more.  Between all the blogs I read, forums I frequent, and shiny magazine covers in the checkout line, I tend to forget about my poor little bound beauties.  And way back in the day, before I discovered Amazon, I was spending upward of 30 bucks of my hard earned babysitting money on them.  (Well, what wasn’t being spent on Popov and Natty Light, anyway.)  My early cookbook collection consists of a lot of celebrity chefs, though I at least had a modicum of sense and was able to bypass the fluff from the Food Network.  As a result, I’ve got a lot of Giada, Ina, and Tyler on my shelves.  (Who am I kidding, more like stacked in piles next to my bed/reading char.  And that reading chair has been a seating area for laundry for far more time than my cute lil tush has ever occupied it.  But I digress.)  I’ve also got some Rachael Ray, but I swear it was a gift!  (Actually, I don’t dislike her, but that’s a story for a different day.)

Continue reading ‘blast from the past’

So here’s the thing.  I’m not one of those really organized people who goes to the store with lists and such, planning what to by according to the menu I’ve created for the week.  I had an ex-boyfriend whose mom actually used to make her grocery list in order of the aisles of the store, that way she wasn’t zig-zagging through the store.  Yeah, there’s a reason she has her own magazine.  Me, I don’t even wash my hair on a regular basis.  (Ew, gross, I know.  That’s why I blog–you can’t see me.)  I end up buying stuff on impulse, and forgetting a shit ton of stuff I actually need, which means I’m at the store probably four times a week.  Then I bring everything home and promptly forget about it.  You know, until I’m digging through my veggie drawer a month later desperate for something to eat and go, “What the EFF was this?!  Were these mushrooms or brussel sprouts?  Apparently they are now garbage.”  You know, cause I’m super economical and stuff. Continue reading ’sorbet foray’

I’m not fancy. I’m fairly sure everything featured so far has been more than do-able for the home cook. And what could be simpler than Caprese?  Sweet, juicy tomatoes, cool, creamy mozzarella, and that bright, sunny basil.  Really, what could possibly make it better?  Well, ladies and gentlemen, that would be the answer to all life’s problems: carbs.

I’m lookin’ at you, you bacon people.  Bacon is great and all, but I hate to break it to you, bacon does not go with everything.  Nobody wants bacon in their cookies.  Oh shit, that’s right, those cookies are really good.  Okay, well let’s just call truce and kiss and make up over a bacon sandwich.

Tangent, much?

Continue reading ‘tomato-tomahto’

So I don’t know if you’ve figured it out yet, but I’m a pretty shitty blogger.  For months, all the *real* bloggers have been waxing lyrical about spring’s bounty: ramps, artichokes, fava beans, rhubarb…  You wouldn’t know it, but all but the first have made an appearance in my kitchen within the last few months.  Meanwhile, I’ve been posting  canned tomato sauces and pantry staple cakes.  I get it.  I’m a shitty blogger.

And so, a peace offering.

Continue reading ‘‘choke & stuff’

Hi! My name’s Meleyna, and I have a food blog. Well, I used to anyway. And then I didn’t post for nearly a month, and I’m pretty sure my readership is down from like, four, to probably one. (Hi, Tom!) It’s not for lack of cooking–I’ve had dinner parties, I’ve been playing with spring’s wonderful bounty, and whether or not I feel like cooking, CPS warned me this is the LAST chance, and I gotta feed my kid… So what’s my deal? Well, I moved, and I’ve been dealing with a crappy wireless situation ever since. (Seriously?  Who actually password protects their Internet?  So much for love thy neighbor…)  I finally got my own real live Internet YESTERDAY. So for the past month, I’ve been checking my email on my lunch break and MAILING the bills I don’t have time to take care of during the remainder of my too-short break. You know, cause I’m a dinosaur. (I have lots of practice; it’s Parker’s favorite game. Rrrrrrrowr.)

So here we go. Welcome back, to that same old place you laughed about. Welcome back, welcome back, welcome baaaaaack! (I am far too young know anything about that show, and I’m not entirely sure why I know the lyrics, but there you go. And I hope that it stays stuck in your head for the rest of the day.)

Continue reading ’salty, sweet treat’