Breakfast bread puddings. At least, that’s what Phil’s taken to calling them because he’s wholeheartedly against my calling it “French Toast Casserole.” Casserole, quite simply, is an ugly middle-America word that conjures up images of upturned gelatinous soups, chicken legs, and overcooked egg noodles. Basically cellulite but with more structure. “Besides, French toast is crunchy on the outside.” Yes, it’s pan-fried in oil, and you need a plateful of paper towels at the ready. My “Breakfast Pudding Bake” deserves no towels, no plates at the ready. I can bake a tray of it on the weekend, serve some, then divvy up portions for the rest of the week-freezing two servings at a time. Also, it’s not all about the kids. It’s perfect to have at the ready for when guests pop in. Not that I ever have unexpected guests, but I like to think that I live in a kitchen that can accommodate extraordinary circumstances, from hurricanes to hangovers. Wrapped in foil, from freezer to toaster oven, in five miles minutes, they have a puffy, eggy, soft breakfast pudding worthy of childhood comfort and memories. Sometimes you make a meal and you just know ”This is what they’ll remember when they’re older.” Hell, it’s what I’ll remember when I’m older.
Makeup brushes, what each one is used for, makeup tutorials, creative Mac shadow combinations, new fall nail polish colors: Nars Galion, Chanel Paradoxal, and Deborah Lippman Fashion (near dupe: Essie Brooch The Subject). I am wholly engaged with reading up on makeup dupes. There are sites out there that will actually tell you the duplicate Wet an Wild color for a Mac color. That kind of thing. Now, I’m obsessed with having every single non neon color Mac makes. Just to have it, if I should need it, after watching some makeup tutorial on YouTube that will give me the perfect Kardashian eye.
I’ve been complimented on my latest perfume purchase exactly five times in the past two days. Sharing the name of this perfume is like revealing that I watch The Bachelor. But, I do. So, here it is. The perfume I love to love and hate and love: Boyfriend by Kate Walsh. Go ahead, hate me. I’m used to it.
Do ahead Dinners. “Dream Dinners” and freeze ahead meals, wanting to have dinner party meals in moments. I’m obsessed with Dore Greenspan’s At My French Table, and I can’t understand how she doesn’t weigh more than the Arc D’ Triumph. Two dishes I’m making this week, “Pumpkin stuffed with everything Good” and ‘Chicken, apples, and cream a la Normande.”
Another obsession of mine: my coconut sticky rice. It is insane. My mother made us rice pudding with “the wooden spoon.” I make this instead. You need the right rice and methods, timing, and planning, soaking rice in a bowl overnight
Another obsession: PHO. Where in South Florida does a girl get her hands on some authentic Pho?
Today I’m making a “Zero points” Watchers Points Plus soup with Chinese cabbage, bok choy, bean sprouts, water chestnuts, bamboo shoots, cilantro and lime. Add a protein on top, from egg to nuts to chicken or beef, long slippery noodles for the kids.
This week, I also baked a Derby Pie. Because I want to be Southern like that.
I want to look up Nora Ephron plays. There’s a play she said she wrote but that wasn’t published.
I want to read it. Speaking of my imaginary best friend—this morning we spoke about Teflon and anti-egg white omelets. I love her more and more each time we talk. Thankfully she feels the same way, so there’s no awkward friendship chase. What can I say? Nora Ephron and I are total besties, especially considering how much we both despise that word.
I am obsessed with crustless pumpkin pie. I just devoured the center, the entire filling, using only my finger. Right now I’m staring at the remaining pie shell wondering if I should bake something new into it, call it “Double Unsanitary Pie.” I bet I could make a fast filling with my vita-mix.
I have to get over these cedar fever allergies I picked up when I was back in Austin. It’s strange, although I’m here in Florida now, this week, today, I still feel like I’m in Austin, still think when I get in my car, I can jet over to Central Market, that I can still call friends at the very last minute with a text inviting them to meet me for drinks and a movie in fifteen minutes at Alamo Drafthouse.
What I miss most about Austin are the people. They’re all so different, unique, easy. If however, I grew up in Texas, I’d probably prefer different, wouldn’t much mind living in Boca Raton, where people dress to be seen. I dress to keep my food down. The homogeneousness is killing me… almost in a good way though, because now I’m motivated to get back to work.