Let them eat cake.
For some reason, my DVR recorded an episode of House a few weeks ago.
I’ve heard of it, but I’ve never seen it before (and frankly, I don’t know why). And now, after having watched a few episodes, I’m totally hooked.
And I want to have Hugh Laurie’s snarky, caustic little babies. But he would be way hotter if he was speaking with his British accent.
Last Friday, I was hanging out at Kay and DMX’s house for our annual Thanksgiving viewing of Planes, Trains, & Automobiles. We got invited over to DB and The Good Girl’s house across the alley for dessert, since DB’s parents were there, and The Good Girls parents were visiting from Washington, and Briton and The Bitch were over with little baby Spud. (Kay has decided their new baby should be nicknamed Spud. I think it’s the worst name ever, but it’s not going away.)I don’t deal well with parents. I’m not good at small talk, and half the time I can’t remember to turn off the cursing switch. But Kay dragged me over there anyway, luring me with pie and ice cream. (If you ever find that you need to convince me to do anything, pie and ice cream will work nicely. You can convince me to whack my own grandmother if you get the right kind.)
We were sitting in the living room talking and eating pie when DB stood up to make an announcement. He took a quilt The Good Girl’s grandmother made, and started talking about it, and its history. Then he talked about an old fleece blanket his dad had had since he was in college that he passed on to DB when he went to USC. Finally, he took another quilt TGG’s grandmother made representing three generations of women in her family. He took the blankets, and said that they represented history for both of their families, and that the next quilt they got would represent THEIR family, and then he got down on one knee and proposed. After seven (exhausting) years, he asked her to marry him.
Now. As snarky, and cranky, and bitter as I usually am, I will be the first to admit I was bawling like a holy man caught with a gram of meth and a male prostitute.
The fact that I was holding baby Spud, and he was smiling at me (shutup. It was NOT gas), and then two of my best friends got engaged, sent in me into Tears Of Joy Overdrive, revealing to everyone that underneath all my crustiness, I’m really just a sentimental old softie.
If you tell anyone, I’ll kill you.
I love to cook.
I love to cook with garlic. A lot of it.
And now I have the greatest gadget in the history of kitchen gadgetry. It’s from Williams Sonoma, and it’s called the Garlic Genius, and holy crap, it makes little perfect cubes of chopped garlic.
Observe:
It only took me ten minutes to chop an entire head of garlic.
I love it.
I need your help. I have to make dessert for a Christmas dinner party and gift exchange at Kay and DMX’s with our friends. My three choices are marbled pumpkin cheesecake with a ginger snap crust, lemon ginger poundcake with lemon glaze, and chocolate pumpkin cake with orange cream cheese frosting. I wish I could make all three, but I can’t.
I can’t decide, and I need to choose now so I can make my practice cake. Which one should I make?
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