Well, it’s a miracle that I haven’t had a heat stroke yet. It is still at least 105°F outside every. single. day. I mean it’s only been two months of torture. But I promise I won’t groan about the weather today. Besides, I am hopping on a plane to Knoxville, Tennessee, where it is a balmy 89°F. I bet the grass is green there, the bushes full, and the flowers abloom. I can’t even wait! Plus, my BFF since the beginning of time just had a baby boy who I can’t wait to coo at all weekend long!
I’ve been feeling somewhat uninspired lately. Uninspired in the kitchen, uninspired to write, and even more uninspired to get up at 7 a.m. to exercise outside before it hits 100 degrees. I’m not sure if it is the endless heat wave in Dallas or my body telling me to slow down, but it sure feels like a “funk” and quite frankly, I am over it.
Ah, June. Usually you are peaceful, if not a little bit hot, but always full of long afternoons, dreams of beach vacations, and gallons of lemonade. Did you forget? You are meant for relaxing and blissfully licking ice cream out of waffle cones as it melts down your fingers. I must say, you are acting a little crazy these days. I mean, I get it. Sometimes things can get a little crazy. But can we relax a little bit in July? Maybe even August, too? I don’t want to be greedy here, but sleep deprived is really not a good look for me.
Have you ever tried to make fresh squeezed lemonade? Because it is the bomb and so, so easy. Seriously, you will thank me later. In fact, it may change your entire summer. Promise. Have I convinced you to try it, yet? I had actually never made my own fresh squeezed lemonade until the summer of 1995 when I reached the apparent maximum on my lemonade spending allowance. Didn’t know there was such a thing as a lemonade allowance? Me either, until I had one. Let’s back up a bit shall we? Growing up, my family spent every summer in the then-sleepy beach town of Seaside, Florida. Some may recognize the location from The Truman Show, which launched the beginning of the New Seaside as we now know it. Hardly recognizable these days. True Hollywood Story.
Happy Cinco de Mayo! It’s already Thursday, can you believe it? I must have been in a Royal Wedding daze or something. Where did this week go? What an eventful one it has been already! And I’m not talking about the news, people; This is not that kind of blog.
So on Monday, I had the bright idea to try to be a part-time vegan (no weekends, those are always eat out days). I decided going vegan was a good idea—even though the texture of tofu, the essential protein of veggies and vegans, sort of weirds me out. The idea sounds nice though doesn’t it? So that was Monday. I bought almond milk and tofu (I know!) and Earth Balance butter. Baby steps!
So, I don’t know about you, but I am pret-ty excited about this royal wedding. After watching every single special on television this week (and taping a few others), I feel incredibly knowledgeable about the big day. While most of you out there are completely over all of the hub-bub, I simply can’t wait. I get it. Who are these people? The idea of a monarchy is sooooo 1540. How terribly borrr-ing. Blah, blah, blah. I’ve heard it all. My husband likes to mock me constantly over my endless fascination, and now, I think he simply is starting to feel sorry for me. For the past week, he has insulted Prince William’s looks (okay, okay he used to have a better hairline but he absolutely does not look like a horse!) but in my opinion, there is nothing wrong with him that a little whitening gel and Invisalign from Tom Cruise’s dentist couldn’t fix. This has been a nightly
argument discussion this week.
I have always had a sweet tooth (if you couldn’t already tell from the amount of baked goods on this blog). I blame my mother, really, who would always order dessert at restaurants even if no one else was ordering anything. And being the amazing, supportive daughter that I am, I would never want someone, let alone my mom, to eat dessert alone and thus, felt obliged to order the sweet stuff as well. Of course, I would eat it all because I couldn’t waste a single bite. That would be rude. And I am just really thoughtful like that.
I know, I know. Not the Blood Orange Olive Oil Cake, again?! Yep, that’s right. I’m doing it. Every food blogger under the sun has posted this recipe, and I’m posting it here, too. It really all started because I was curious as to what could be so special about this fruity cake. I also just so happened to have New York Times food writer, Melissa Clark’s In the Kitchen with a Good Appetite, AND I remembered that I had blood oranges in the fridge—clearly a sign that could not be ignored. Until I went to said refrigerator to dig out those blood oranges. Huh, that is strange. I swear I bought five blood oranges as I distinctly remember the Whole Foods sale, 5 for $5. Am I losing it? Maybe, but in this case, I knew someone had taken them, and Henry the dog didn’t do it; he can’t even open the fridge.