Last week was my four year blogiversary, and if it hadn’t been for facebook, the occasion would have drifted by, completely forgotten. Isn’t that the truest sign you’re getting older? For the last three blog birthdays, I’ve celebrated by feeding you some sort of gluten-free healthy hedonist dessert. And had my kitchen dementia not struck (internet years are longer than dog years, guys), I would have done the same. But I think we wound up in the right place to commemorate the last 365 days with these raspberry margaritas.
My sweet tooth wasn’t fully eradicated by the vice detox during the dark, sugar-free days of 2015. Yes, I’ve been better about not picking up half a dozen over-priced French macaroons on my way home from the dentist. Which thanks to my contrary nature, is something that actually used to happened. And by in large, I’ve gotten the casual weekday dessert thing under control. The blanket exception though is ice cream. Can’t stop, won’t stop. But I have found ways to feed the beast without the empty carton collateral damage. And after all the chocolate eggs consumed this weekend, I’m thinking you too will need a slightly less indulgent egg-free treat. Something like these vegan black sesame milkshakes.
I first came into contact with this tropical pineapple smoothie in Nicaragua, which, given the strong beach and jungle vibes, is not the craziest place in the world to find a tropical drink in your hand. If you follow me on Instagram, you may recall a spell in October in which I posted impressive pictures of myself galloping on horseback, holding a surfboard while standing semi-upright, and attempting to edit my book in a hammock without fully falling prey to that seductive temptress, relaxation. If these vignettes are any indication, the trip was a mix of work and play. I more or less managed to put blinders on and plug through a few chapters of my book while those around me, who were already engaged in relaxation’s minxy little games, sipped watermelon rum cocktails over rounds of jungle croquet. But I also … Continue reading
If you’ve been reading this blog for a while, or are one of my childhood friends, you might be alarmed to see the word “orange” in this white sangria recipe. Some of my fruit phobias are irrational. But the long-standing hatred of oranges runs deep. My old roommate Caitlyn had a similar pathological resentment towards ketchup. She didn’t know where the fear came from, until a few years ago her older sister told a story about a Halloween haunted house in their basement that included a bowl of ketchup “blood.” Somehow this part of the party didn’t manage to get cleared out, and young Caitlyn discovered the moldy, rotten bowl of ketchup a few months later.
Summer is sadly winding down. So I thought I’d lift your spirits a bit by resurrecting one of my favorite seasonal cocktail recipes: the grilled strawberry bellini. Calling this a recipe is generous, as it’s stupid easy. Soak a few skewers, thread your fruit, and char it slightly over a high flame so that all those juices get muddled in your glass.
Earlier this summer, Charlie was out in LA for work, and I decided to join him for a little mini vacation. We stayed at a trendy new-ish hotel called The Line in Koreatown, and spent Friday afternoon playing hookey from life and lounging by the pool. In addition to a café called Pot, which left me confused and slightly disappointed when I flipped to the room service tab by the same name, the hotel housed Roy Choi’s restaurant Commissary. I’m a big fan of the movie Chef (duh), which Choi consulted on. But had never eaten any of his food.
My cocktail game leaves a lot to be desired. Part of the problem is that I’m dating a wine guy. And when Charlie isn’t hauling cases of rose back to his apartment (and occasionally splitting his suit pants in the process), he’s casually challenging acquaintances to homemade Old Fashioned throwdowns and brainstorming creative contents for his copper Moscow Mule cups.
I’m taking a little break today from this month’s healthy hydration series to talk about something that’s a little bit more fun and hedonistic than good ole H2O: WINE. Ever since my long, arduous month of detox, I’ve been paying a lot more attention to the quantity and quality of my vices. And one area of better boozing I’ve been particularly interested in is the new and growing world of organic wines. I’ve not only been trying to drink better wines, but also cleaner wines that are responsibly made.