You know what this Friday needs? A full blown, good old pizza party. Just tons of pizza as far as the eye can see.
And by “party” I mean I just want to be in a room with all the pizza, my cats, and Netflix. Maybe Adam. Maybe.
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You know what this Friday needs? A full blown, good old pizza party. Just tons of pizza as far as the eye can see.
And by “party” I mean I just want to be in a room with all the pizza, my cats, and Netflix. Maybe Adam. Maybe.
Continue reading
I remember when I was younger and learning how to cook, my mom told me, “If you can read, you can cook.” For the most, she’s right. As long as you can read a recipe you can hobble together a meal. Of course, there are fancy techniques and words and recipes that do require a little more know how, but that doesn’t mean you can’t cook.
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This recipe was a series of, “Hmmmm… I wonder what would happen if I did this…?” Luckily, the cooking gods blessed me and at each experimentation step everything worked out. I’m always amazed when my random thoughts turn into edible recipes but I guess that’s pretty much how ALL recipes come to be. Someone thought of throwing a collection of things together and then eating that collection of things.
Man, I make cooking sound like poetry.
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You know what’s really fun? Listening to your husband try to say fun new words like muhammara and za’atar. To be fair, it wasn’t until a few days ago that I even read the word muhammara let alone ate it or said it out loud and za’atar is a little funky with that apostrophe.
It’s mu (like in mud) ha (like in hum) mar (like in mark) a (like in uhhh) and za (like the end of pizza) a (this is silent… don’t say it) tar (like the black sticky stuff).
I’m not a linguist folks. I just like words. And food. Always food.
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There are a few dishes my mom made that just remind me of being a kid. This chicken salad is one of them.
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