If you are here for the scintillating conversation, friends, I am sadly going to disappoint you today. I am having a mad case of writer’s block. But if you are here for the muffins, well, in that case I will surely knock your socks off, or slippers, or flip flops, whatever is on your feet; they are going to be flying right off of ’em. Because these muffins deserve a much heftier and blingier title than “muffin”. The term muffin seems to yawn banal or scream cloyingly sweet. These brightly flavored orange and rosemary muffins are none of the above.
Finals week. Not many other two words could be uttered and elicit such a universally detested feeling, an audible groan and a few expletives shouted out. I think I would rather say and hear the other f-word over and over again than have to deal with this f-word any more, and I am a fairly conservative girl mind you.
Either you remember your finals with disdain from back in the day, or you have kids who are suffering through them, or you are in the middle of those years right here and now when finals’ week is the abominable beast of your life. Continue reading
I know…many of you make fun of my very long titles. They’re my trademark, what can I say? This weekend was a Crazy in the Kitchen weekend. Do you have those? Are there days you just can’t get yourself out of the kitchen no matter how hard you try or don’t try? Does your kitchen suffer with battle wounds like mine does in every nook and cranny?
Can a muffin be lost in translation? This is what I want to know. You see, my food is my language. It is my way of communicating my thoughts and emotions which are otherwise indescribable. I’m not sure anyone else can understand my food language exactly the way it is intended, but I am convinced that it is a language all the same. It conveys my heart, my soul and my mind. Isn’t that a language?