Bake with abandon!
This is ContrastAmanada. She’s an 8-year old Holstein who isn’t afraid to milk herself and has her own Twitter feed. I struggle with social media, but with the help of University of Waterloo’s Critical Media Lab, a herd of bovines from Buttermine Farms in Brant, …
Move over Julia Child and Paula Dean. I’m the Butter Queen today. Now that the jack-o’-lanterns have been extinguished and the last of the waxy mini-chocolate bars have been gobbled, we can safely move onto thoughts of holiday baking. While I’m not ready to rummage …
I just can’t bear to throw out leftover pastry scraps. As a child, when my mother made pie, she salvaged every shred of dough and produced a treat I found more tantalizing than the star dessert itself — the Rolly-Polly. She gathered the leftover …
The pears went bad so I called on the plums. The plums started to go so I… reached for the ice cream maker. I could have made preserves, but I had too few plums to make jam worthwhile. The fruit would have slipped from iffy …
Had the pears held up I would likely be writing about broccoli or Swiss chard. Health food fans lament; pie lovers rejoice. On Saturday, with guests arriving and the clock ticking loudly in my ears, I tossed my dessert plans into the garbage along with …
I’ve been sitting on this post for a few days, not sure what to say. I had planned a feature-by-handy-feature appliance review, but feel I should issue a PSA instead. You see, I broke down and bought a food processor a couple of weeks ago. …
Don’t get me wrong, I like pancakes. But sometimes the expression “Flat as a pancake,” describes my enthusiasm for this dish. Unadorned, they’re pallid, uneven, and large-pored. This describes my skin without make-up. It’s not something you should be serving guests before noon. Oh, sure …
Little Jack Horner’s got nothing on me. What’s he got? A corner, a thumb and a nursery rhyme no one understands. Me? I’ve got fresh plums and frangipane. That’s right. You heard me. Frangipane. I know. It sounds like a resort cocktail, but it’s really …
I missed the last of the season’s peaches on Saturday by THIS much. You can’t see it but I’m holding my thumb and index finger about 4 inches apart. The universal translation for this gesture is one hour of time for each inch of empty …