Sunday, July 14, 2013

I Need to Talk About Ice Cream

I consider myself more of a savory than sweet person and I don't often eat dessert, but lately I've been on a ridiculous ice cream kick.  A kick that will soon end, no doubt, as I'm pushing maximum density and my "fat pants" have become tight on me.  But for now I'm enjoying the hedonistic ride along Triglyceride Highway.

This all started about a month ago when I saw some ice cream recipes in a magazine that looked utterly divine. The recipes all required an ice cream maker, and alas, I didn't have one, so I decided to ask Mr. B for an ice cream maker for our anniversary.  We've been churning fools ever since.  We've made everything from vanilla to mango to strawberry cheesecake, and each one turns out better than the last.  But last night I hit the jackpot.  

Last night I made Salted Caramel Ice Cream.  It was my first time making a custard-based ice cream and I knew that making caramel can be tricky, but I just had to try it.  Before I got started, I read through all of the recipe comments and decided that instead of using 3 whole eggs, I'd use 5 egg yolks, and instead of using 1/2 tsp. of Maldon sea salt, I'd use 1 tsp. of regular sea salt.  Glad I did.  It is perfection.  

If you're a fan of salted caramel, you will love this.  It has true salted caramel flavor, and the texture is super smooth and creamy.  Heaven in a scoop.  I had some for lunch in a sugar cone.  Is that wrong?

Friday, March 29, 2013

5 Pretty Lame Things That I Enjoy

1.  Putting Peeps in the microwave. There's something exhilarating about playing a game of chicken against a household appliance.  It's so damn hard not to fly too close to the sun.

Well played, sir.

2.  Driving through dimly lit tunnels.  I feel inexplicably cool - sort of like that girl from the 2003 Mitsubishi Eclipse commercial.  Note to self:  MUST BUY KANGOL HAT.

3.    The way a lime wedge classes up a drink.  I don't care of you're drinking Mad Dog 20/20.  Throw a lime wedge in there and you're on your way to high society.

4.  Poking Mr. B in the "chimple" (chin dimple).  It's fun and addictive.  He finds it irritating.  He's so selfish.

5.  Chewing Skittles until they turn into pure sugar.  Try it some time, it's like a science experiment!  I should mention that I rarely eat candy (with the exception of chocolate, which is good for you), but when I do, I eat Skittles.  Stay sugary, my friends.  Ok, that was pretty weak.  I'll just stop here.

Monday, March 25, 2013


About 2 weeks after our beloved Cooper passed away last October, we decided to bring home a new puppy.  Although our hearts were broken and I doubt any of us were emotionally ready for a new dog, Roxy really made the decision for us.  Boxers have a perpetually concerned look on their face as it is, but a depressed boxer is more than I can handle.  Between the sad-sack expression, lethargy, incessant searching/whining for Cooper, and laying down next to his grave in our back yard every time we let her outside (I'm totally serious), we knew we needed to get her a new buddy, STAT.

Enter Maddy (a.k.a. "Madness").  One Sunday morning I decided to check out an adoption day held by a local rescue at a vet's office.  I had no intention of coming home with a puppy that day (does anyone?), but I was interested in adopting through this rescue and wanted to check them out. When we walked in, we were greeted by the overwhelming stench of animal waste and the howls and yelps of about 30 terrified dogs in crates.  There were visitors and staffers milling around, and children holding puppies who were peeing everywhere (the puppies, not the children...I think).  It was a chaotic scene and I immediately wanted to leave.  But suddenly in the middle of all the chaos, I saw a lonely-looking, apricot colored puppy sitting quietly in a crate, just sort of taking it all in.  I was immediately drawn to her and hastily made my way through the puppy pee, running children and frazzled staffers so I could get a better look at her.  There she sat, skinny, shaking, and looking up at me with her huge, soulful brown eyes.  I was done.  I quickly found a volunteer and told her I wanted to take the puppy outside, so we leashed her up and brought her out to the grass. Once she was outside, she immediately perked up and began to play and romp and act like a normal puppy.  That was all I needed to see.  We signed the paperwork, paid the adoption fee and got her the hell out of there.

Maddy - Day 1 (look at that face!)
The story I was given by the rescue was that Maddy and two littermates were found abandoned in a field in North Carolina and sent to a high-kill shelter.  The rescue came and scooped them up right before they were to be euthanized and brought them up north to be adopted.  The name they had given her was Olivia, but she looked like a Maddy to me, so that's what we named her.  When she came into our lives, she was seriously underweight, had a terrible case of kennel cough and was riddled with parasites, but now she's an 8 month-old, happy, healthy, 50 lb. spitfire.

Someone once told me that having a puppy is like having a toddler running around with no diaper and a pair of sharp scissors at all times.  I wholeheartedly agree with this analogy and in most cases this is true, but in Maddy's case, make that 2 toddlers.  In addition to the normal puppy antics, she's a shall we say.....eccentric.  A few highlights:

This rope toy for "powerful chewers" is less than 24 hours old.

Excessive drooling over household cat sightings, car rides or walks

This is how I relax on the couch.  

In a nutshell, Maddy is a handful.  She's got boundless energy and is afraid, to the point of paralysis, of anything new. She's my first rescue and I've realized that she needs special attention and training, but I'm thrilled with the progress she makes every day.  She's becoming a rock star in her obedience class and she really, really tries.  But do you know what the best part is?  The whole reason why we got her was because Roxy needed a new BFF.  Mission accomplished.

Like Peanut Butter & Jelly

p.s.  As I finished up this post, Maddy trotted into the living room with my brand new bra, shredded.  She is a furry velociraptor.