That’s what I call sexy time!
Growing up, my parents thought it was perfectly normal to make breakfasts of scrambled eggs with canned beans and canned corn so in that tradition, as a grown up, I like to mix it up a bit. Sure steamed sweet buns aren’t the most logical choice for dessert after a long winded French affair but my tummy wants what it wants.
“Stop eating cupcaaaaakes!”
This movie was freaking hilarious. Makes me wanna have someone to be this dysfunctional with.
…and at around 2 am, I stumbled into the kitchen, poking my head into the refrigerator, bathed in its fluorescent light, peering into it as if I could simply will there to be a magnificent 6-course meal. Of course there wasn’t but I happily settled with cookies. Cookies always take priority. I been done told you.
Now, I do acknowledge that I could be biased, but these were seriously one of the best cookies I’ve had the pleasure of sinking my teeth into. I promise to insert the link when my recipe index decides to play nice. Update: my site has been acting like I forgot its anniversary or something. Maybe if we all compliment it on how pretty she is, she’ll act better. Thank you for bearing with me, y’all! Here’s the recipe (I subbed out all the almonds for 1/4 c of squeezed juice from an orange and the zest of it with melted chocolate for powdered sugar).
They taste like soft, fluffy orangettes, if that makes any sense. Forget that I had forgotten my socks and my feet were cold or that I’d been plagued with crazy dreams lately. As I whisked and stirred, the sense of calm that always spills over my body when I’m in the kitchen took over and made silly dreams only matter when reiterating them for a blog.
Thursday night, I was a ….pirate? attempting to flee but my ship got blown up and I watched my two sons perish. I was grief stricken and swam away, barely concealing myself in a thick tangle of vines. I was mere inches away from my enemies and then, I wake up. Friday night, I was running away from bears and wolves and slept in trees while simultaneously playing my piano then somehow, in a library. Then, I wake up. How does one get a piano in a tree anyways? Of course it doesn’t make a lick of sense. Dr. Freud has some ideas though.
So you see, cookies make sense. Cookies always make sense.
I hope everyone else had fantastic weekends and only dreamed of cotton candy and intense make out sessions with Hugh Jackman. Why can’t I ever have those dreams, huh? I mean seriously, how can a man be this freaking beautiful?! (and I’ll have you know, he counts as part of my food blog, as you can clearly see, he’s delicious!)
Your Squishy Monster ^.~