Stuff I Love

In an effort to ignore the one thousand times I've sneezed today* and the killer headache I'm going to have in approximately six hours when I wake up for work (gross), I am going to focus on the positive and show you some things that are making me smile a whole lot lately.

1.  None of Your Frizziness conditioner by Herbal Essences.  I am a complete cheapass when it comes to hair products (or beauty products in general, if we're being honest), so this stuff is super amazing because it makes my hair silky smooth without being greasy, and it smells like a happy day at the beach.  Well, it also kind of smells like a Mary Kate & Ashley brand shampoo that I used when I went on a trip to Mississippi with a professor in college (I wouldn't recommend going on a trip with a professor in college, but that's a story for another time), so, anyway, I also laugh every time I use the conditioner.  Silky hair and hilarious smell deja vu?  Shoot yeah!

2.  More Amish Butterprint treasures!  Matt's mom (are you jealous that my mother-in-law is so much better than yours?) got me these when she was at the Bouckville antiques extravaganza last month.  Are they just the cutest thing you've ever seen or what?  Cassie says that one dish on the right is for pate.  Hmmmm. . .well, I used it to store leftover tater tots this weekend.  That's the same, right?

3.  Cold food.  Mmmmmmm.  I love cold food.  Cold pizza, cold french fries, cold stir fry, cold pasta.  Matt thinks this is the most disgusting thing of all time.  I think it's delicious.

4.  My little cuddle wolf.  Why is he so cute?  Would this pose scare off a murderer robber?  Yeah, I think so, too.

5.  These lollipops that I stole from Tanya's house last weekend.  They're cotton candy flavored or something, and they're super tasty.  She says they came from Party City or something, so I might need to go on an outing here soon.

6.  A trio of baby pumpkin cakes!  They look a little less hobo-like once frosted and sprinkled with walnuts.  You can tell that Cassie totes decorated the one on the left.  I've not got the patience for that bull jive!

I also love people who come to my house and clean it and then do all of my essay grading while I sit on the couch and watch Teen Mom, so if anyone out there is bored, feel free to come on by.  I'll provide you insightful commentary on the state of Amber and Gary's relationship and Farrah's stupid bitchness.  



*Matt refused to say anything after someone sneezed.  No "God bless you," no "Gesundheit," no nothing.  He said he does not need to acknowledge that I've sneezed.  I say he's lucky I still have a soul.  I've been so obnoxious about his refusal over these last nine years that recently, whenever I sneeze, he gives me a really exaggerated "God bless you."  It's a minor victory, sure, but it sure makes having a cold a lot more fun.

JMU Love

I need this, right?  

[source]

I think this is going to have to be my little shoot-yeah-you-made-it-through-another-school-year gift to myself.  Plus, it'll look pretty awesome on our [future] yellow living room walls.

If you are reading this and you are married to me because you met me and fell in love with me while we attended school at JMU, you could even buy it for me for our upcoming anniversary.  I wouldn't be mad.  (It's bookmarked.)  xoxo

Sunday Funday

You know what I love?  (Well, other than the fact that it is FEBRUARY (!) and we went to the beach?  And that it was actually warm outside!?)

I love the walk from the parking lot to the beach.

When you walk along the walkway and start to hear the waves crashing.

And when, finally, you see the ocean. Isn't that just the best?

And I love porch swings on the beach.

 And sticks that look like sea monsters.

And crappy self-portraits.

And my tacky white sunglasses.

And killer seagulls.

And two for one margaritas.

And coming home, just a tad sunburnt to a sunny kitchen and a cute dog.

And I LOVE Pilot Precise V Rolling Ball pens.

And asparagus and its effects.

And the fact that March is fast approaching!

And I absolutely love this dinner.

I'm a little bit less excited about the fact that school starts in seven hours, and I'm still awake.  Eek!

Which reminds me, I also love naps.

Hope you have a great week!

Pecan Praline Ice Cream

I think that I finally know how parents feel when they have more than one kid and claim that they love them all the same.  Except that my love is for ice cream.  First there was Banana Puddin' Ice Cream, and I thought I'd died and gone to heaven.  Then there was Thomas Jefferson's Vanilla Ice Cream.  Again with the dying and heaven-going.  And then there was Pumpkin Cheesecake Ice Cream.  If I was a parent, Pumpkin Cheesecake Ice Cream would be like the kid that I both love and like and get along with and talk to on the phone every day.  It might have eeked out as my favorite.  But the competition's getting tougher, because now there's this one: Pecan Praline Ice Cream, the baby of the pack, but a force to be reckoned with.  (Here's the thing, though.  Pecan Praline Ice Cream is a softer ice cream, and therefore does not like to have its picture taken.  You could say it's sweet but sensitive.  Okay, now I've taken the comparison too far, huh?)

 

I originally set out to make a pecan pie ice cream, neglecting to think about the fact that I don't even really like pecan pie.  I knew that I wanted candied pecans, and I knew that I wanted caramel.  Other than that, I wasn't really sure which direction I wanted to go with the ice cream.

And then I found David Lebovitz's Salted Butter Caramel Ice Cream and my decision was made instantly.  (Seriously?  Salt and butter and caramel and ice cream?  Omigod.)

So I slaved and slaved in the kitchen and made a huge mess and learned that sugar will turn into caramel if you just cook it long enough (who knew?).  I candied pecans (a task that is dangerously easy) and ate about half of them while the ice cream was chilling. 

And when everything was churned and added and chopped and roasted and mixed in, I had a half-gallon of ice cream that was salty and sweet and crunchy and out-of-control delicious.  At least I thought that it was out-of-control delicious.

When Matt got home from work on Friday, I made him try some.  Mitch and I had already approved, and I just needed another opinion.

Matt spit it out.

(Yeah, Matt's not really one to administer false praise.  I love this about him, but when he's spitting out my prized ice cream and talking about how disgusting it is, I kind of hate it about him.)

I got myself another guinea pig, my teacher friend who's basically a southern belle, Lizhen.  I stressed to her that she needed to be honest with me about it because I didn't want to post a recipe for something that people wouldn't like, and after tasting it she enthusiastically joined team Mandy and Mitch. 

So here's what I'm thinking.  You know the buttered popcorn Jelly Belly jelly beans?  You know how people either love them or hate them?  Well, I love them.  (I also love using the little recipes on the package of Jelly Bellys that tells you how to make, say, a blueberry muffin using the buttered popcorn and blueberry beans.)  I've decided that if you're the type who loves the buttered popcorn Jelly Belly jelly beans, then you're the type who will love this ice cream.

And without further ado, and in time to get some ready for that Thanksgiving feast that is fast approaching, here's the recipe.

Salted Butter Caramel Ice Cream (From David Lebovitz)


One generous quart (liter)

I know I’m sounding like a broken record, but be sure to use good salt. I use fleur de sel, but if you don’t have it, a mild-tasting sea salt will do in a pinch, such as Maldon, fine gray salt, or kosher salt. Don’t use ordinary fine table salt; it’s far too harsh.

Because of the caramel in this ice cream, once churned and frozen, it’ll remain nice & creamy (as shown in the photo.) To make it firmer, crank up your freezer a bit or store it in a shallow pan.

For the caramel praline (mix-in)

½ cup (100 gr) sugar
¾ teaspoon sea salt, such as fleur de sel

For the ice cream custard

2 cups (500 ml) whole milk, divided
1½ cups (300 gr) sugar
4 tablespoons (60 gr) salted butter
scant ½ teaspoon sea salt
1 cups (250 ml) heavy cream
5 large egg yolks
¾ teaspoon vanilla extract

1. To make the caramel praline, spread the ½ cup (100 gr) of sugar in an even layer in a medium-sized, unlined heavy duty saucepan: I use a 6 quart/liter pan. Line a baking sheet with a silicone baking mat or brush it sparingly with unflavored oil.

2. Heat the sugar over moderate heat until the edges begin to melt. Use a heatproof utensil to gently stir the liquefied sugar from the bottom and edges towards the center, stirring, until all the sugar is dissolved. (Or most of it—there may be some lumps, which will melt later.)

Continue to cook stirring infrequently until the caramel starts smoking and begins to smell like it’s just about to burn. It won’t take long.

3. Without hesitation, sprinkle in the ¾ teaspoon salt without stirring (don’t even pause to scratch your nose), then pour the caramel onto the prepared baking sheet and lift up the baking sheet immediately, tilting and swirling it almost vertically to encourage the caramel to form as thin a layer as possible. Set aside to harden and cool.

4. To make the ice cream, make an ice bath by filling a large bowl about a third full with ice cubes and adding a cup or so of water so they’re floating. Nest a smaller metal bowl (at least 2 quarts/liters) over the ice, pour 1 cup (250 ml) of the milk into the inner bowl, and rest a mesh strainer on top of it.

5. Spread 1½ cups (300 gr) sugar in the saucepan in an even layer. Cook over moderate heat, until caramelized, using the same method described in Step #2.

6. Once caramelized, remove from heat and stir in the butter and salt, until butter is melted, then gradually whisk in the cream, stirring as you go.

The caramel may harden and seize, but return it to the heat and continue to stir over low heat until any hard caramel is melted. Stir in 1 cup (250 ml) of the milk.

7. Whisk the yolks in a small bowl and gradually pour some of the warm caramel mixture over the yolks, stirring constantly. Scrape the warmed yolks back into the saucepan and cook the custard using a heatproof utensil, stirring constantly (scraping the bottom as you stir) until the mixture thickens. If using an instant-read thermometer, it should read 160-170 F (71-77 C).

8. Pour the custard through the strainer into the milk set over the ice bath, add the vanilla, then stir frequently until the mixture is cooled down. Refrigerate at least 8 hours or until thoroughly chilled.

9. Freeze the mixture in your ice cream maker according to the manufacturer’s instructions.

10. While the ice cream is churning, crumble the hardened caramel praline into very little bits, about the size of very large confetti (about ½-inch, or 1 cm). I use a mortar and pestle, although you can make your own kind of music using your hands or a rolling pin.

11. Once your caramel ice cream is churned, quickly stir in the crushed caramel, then chill in the freezer until firm.

Note: As the ice cream sits, the little bits of caramel may liquefy and get runny and gooey, which is what they’re intended to do.

Candied Pecans

8 oz. chopped pecans
1/2 cup sugar
1/2 cup brown sugar
1 tsp. kosher salt
1 tablespoon cinnamon
1 egg white
splash water

Directions

1. In a bowl, combine sugars, salt, and cinnamon.  Mix to combine.  Set aside.
2. In a large bowl, beat egg white and splash of water until frothy.  Add pecans and stir until coated.
3. Add the sugars to the large bowl and mix until pecans are all coated and there is no remaining loose sugar mixture.
4. Move coated pecans to a baking sheet and bake for one hour at 250 degrees, flipping every 15 minutes.

I Heart David Letterman.

Next Wednesday Matt and I will be seeing one of these two handsome gentlemen. 

[source]

I'll give you a hint.  It's not the one who's the president.

But that's okay, because we stalked the president this spring.  But I've been giddy today because WE GOT TICKETS TO SEE LETTERMAN!

[source]

Both Matt and I have been big Letterman fans since we were tweens (I hate that word), so this is kind of like a lifelong dream come true.  About a month ago I posted a video of Dave and Rupert G. harassing people around New York, because that night Matt and I had been talking about our favorite Letterman moments.  When I was younger, I was really into taping my favorite shows with our trusty VCR.  I had recorded the episode on which this particular Rupert stunt aired, and I watched it dozens of times.  The guest that night was Michael Keaton, and he was promoting his latest film, Speechless.  It was a really funny interview, and I could pretty much quote it to you, but that would be more fun for me than it would be for you.  Basically, it's just one of those funny little things that has been seared into my memory.

And who is scheduled to be the guest on Wednesday, when Matt and I will be hanging out with Dave?  Michael-effing-Keaton, that's who.  Michael-the-best-Batman-Keaton.  It's like my life has come full circle.

[source]

Also, there's a good chance that Dave'll lay eyes on me and be in love.  Matt should watch out. 

Here's another of our favorites. 


Set your DVRs for the Wednesday show. I'll be the one in the bright red hoodie (Dave keeps the theater frigid), flapping my arms up and down, completely overcome with excitement.

Discovering Our Love Languages

Not long ago, Cassie referenced this quiz about love languages.  When Matt and I looked at the descriptions of the love languages, it was pretty easy to identify which love language each of us subscribed to.  I said immediately that my love language was acts of service: I love it when people do things for me (get me a glass of water, get me a glass of wine, take my plate to the kitchen, clean the house, do all of the driving on long road trips, etc.).  Not that I don't like a thoughtful gift or a nice hug, too, of course. 

Matt's is quality time.  Matt doesn't really need much besides someone to be in the room to hear him call out all of the correct answers (questions?) on Jeopardy!.  Not surprisingly, Matt's favorite times (and some of mine, too), are when we stay up late, sitting at the kitchen table, talking and laughing and feeding Mitch too many treats.

Even though we thought that we knew our love languages from the descriptions (which Matt insisted, by the way, were stupid), this weekend we took the quiz, per Cassie's request.  Matt went first.

It did not go so well, because for the better part of ten minutes, he mocked the quiz--yelling his insults from the other room-- for its stupidity and transparency.  I have to admit, he had a point.

The five love languages are: touch, service, quality time, words of affirmation, and gifts.  The questions on the quiz were really subtle.  For instance, check one:

• I love it when you celebrate my birthday with a gift.
• I love it when you celebrate my birthday with meaningful words.

What love languages could these answers possibly support?  Matt had believed that the love language theory was stupid in the first place, and didn't keep it a secret that he found the quiz to be a complete waste of time. 

Was he wrong?  Nope.

Because it took all that to discover that quality time is his love language.  Mine is acts of service.  Basically, if he does things for me then I'll hang out with him.  Sounds good to me.

Hey, Matt, the house needs to be vacuumed and the clothes need to be put away.  I'll be lying here on the couch when you're done, and I'll be happy to hang out, and to listen to you shout out the answers during Jeopardy!  Hell, I'll even provide you with affirming words like, "You're so smart during the kid's tournament."

What's your love language? 

(Oh, and if you're looking for a super-fun old school quiz, here's The Spark's Purity Quiz.  How pure are you?)

Danielle!

Happy birthday to Danielle, who is also turning twenty-nine, but for the fourth time.

Not a month goes by that I don't have a dream that I'm back in Harrisonburg, working at BW3.  I really don't have a good explanation for my creepy recurring dream, except that the three years that I worked there were so formative.  When I started there, I was a nineteen-year-old kid who didn't drink, and was pretty wholesome by most accounts.  By the time I left three years later, such was not the case.  Not to mention, that job could be really stressful.  We got out at two a.m. at the earliest, and our shifts began at five.  Sure, it wasn't the hardest job of all time, and sure, we made buckets of money slinging wings and beer and Alabama Slammer shooters, but it was tough. 

The people who worked with me during that time were really influential, in part because I was the baby of the group, and I always felt like they were looking after me, and in part because they taught me so much about coming of age in Harrisonburg, Virginia. 

Danielle was the second person I met at BW3.  (The first was her then-boyfriend-now-husband Scott, who probably deserves a post all his own.)  She trained me, and I didn't like her that much.  I thought she was a bitch.  I couldn't have been more wrong.  Well, kind of.  She can be a bitch when needed, but it's the good kind of bitch.  Let's just say she's assertive.

It didn't take long for me to realize that Danielle was actually quite cool.  She was an English major like me, she had an awesomely-raspy voice (I'd pay $200 to be able to trade voices with her), and she held a really great outlook on life.  And she's smart.  I love it when my friends are smart.

As the years progressed, Danielle and I became closer, and I always looked forward to shifts when I'd be working with her.  She even gave me a reason to hate karaoke less (We had karaoke 1-2 times a week, and it was excruciating, especially because our manager would play a game called "Kamikaze Karaoke," which basically meant that he would put our names in for songs that he chose, and then when our  name was called he would force us to go up and sing the surprise song.  Fun for the customers, awful for the employees.)  For some reason, Danielle and I decided that our favorite song was "Copacobana," and when we would step up to the mike to sing we knew it was our chance to get back at the karaoke regulars (a.k.a., high school chorus rejects) with our own ridiculous antics.



But my favorite Danielle memories are of enjoying the simple life outside of work: watching O Brother Where Art Thou? over and over again (he done R-U-N-N-O-F-T!), planning our future careers as backup whistlers (we're both REALLY good at whistling), trying to refine our handwriting with nice pens, and planning how we would be soccer moms together years later.  (Sorry, Danielle.  I really dropped the ball on that one.)

In many ways, I felt like Danielle was the big sister that I never had.  Looking back, I can see just how much she influenced me, with her casual outlook on life, with her candid honesty, and with her approach to relationships.  Danielle and Scott always impressed me with their relationship.  They were never overly kissy or gross, but it was clear whenever I was around them that they were deeply committed to one another, and that they didn't have to be sitting on each other's laps to prove that to the world.

When Scott told us that he'd bought a ring and was planning to propose, I was so excited for them.  I knew that they were a great team, and it made me happy to know that Scott and Danielle would be taking on the world together.

And I was excited to see what kind of kids they would spawn.  Fortunately, I wouldn't have to wait long.  About forty weeks to the day after they got married (And the wedding was pretty fun, from what I remember.  Sorry I fell off that chair, Danielle.  How did that bouquet even end up in my hand?) they had their first baby, Scotty (who we thought would be a girl but surprised everyone).

Danielle's really taken to being a mom.  She has two great kids (who, by the way, look like miniature versions of her and Scott) and a super cute pup, and she's thriving.

She has even fulfilled our long-term goal of being a soccer mom!

Even though I don't get to talk to her that often, when we do talk we're able to pick up right where we left off.  It seems that we can't talk for any less than two hours.  I've known Danielle for a decade, and I admire her and appreciate her more with each passing year.

Happy birthday, Danielle!  If I was up there, I'd make you these:

(I stole all of the pictures from Danielle's Facebook, because I do not have a scanner.  It's probably for the best.)

Matt and Mandy.

Meet Matt and Mandy. We're really into alliteration, we're good spellers, and, as you can tell, we are really really incredibly good-looking. Also, we really love each other. I love Matt so much that I try really hard not to be a maniacal bitch, and he loves me so much that he will finish trimming hedges after a snake tries to attack me!

We met in college at James Madison University, and it's been pretty great since then. "Why?" you may ask. Because we got a dog instead of having a baby. That's why.