Posts in lagniappe
football at home

This post is sponsored by Wayfair, who asked what it might look like to tailgate from the comfort of your very own sofa. As someone who always tailgates from the comfort of my sofa, this question was not a stretch. All opinions are (as always) my own. 

Fall in the south is a funny thing, especially for those of us who are accustomed to defining fall as that season in which we wear all the sweaters. Unless you have really good air conditioning and no plans to go outside EVER, sweater weather is not the definition of fall here in Texas. Football is the definition of fall.

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let’s talk about stitch fix (round 2)

As I sit here typing this review, I am wearing the sweater that I kept from my first Stitch Fix installment. It is the perfect substitute for a t-shirt – soft, warm, but still looks like I bothered to get dressed. The tags are still on my other keeper, but in its defense, our temps are still in the 30’s and I’ve not yet begun wearing tank tops.

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let's talk about stitch fix (round 1)

I’ll admit to being in a bit of a wardrobe hole. I want to dress like a grown-up, really, I do. Can we talk about how hard that is to do when you are either doing dishes or at the grocery or shuttling kids to lessons or cooking? You know what I’m talking about. I know you own more than one pair of yoga pants. And when was the last time you actually did yoga? You see what I’m getting at?

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menu plan: weeks of january 25 to february 13

Guess what? I totally said I wasn’t going to include menu plans on the blog anymore and now here I am posting about a menu plan. And I'm not even posting it in the menu section! Aren’t you confused? To be fair, I’m not really writing a menu plan. I just wanted to give you a little head’s up about what we will be eating because I might be reviewing some of these recipes the coming weeks.

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the review: monster cookies

I spent a good portion of my formative years in Eugene, Oregon, or as I like to call it, Granolaville. It’s cool, though, because I have some good memories of eating tiger stripe ice cream at Prince Puckler’s (even the President ate here but he definitely could have made better choices in the flavor department), pizza and Mrs. Pacman at Mazzi’s, and of course, cookies at the Cookie Monster Company. So when I saw this post by I Am Baker on Instagram a week or so ago, I was smitten. (P.S. You really should follow Amanda. Good looking photos and a sense of humor. Kind of a girl crush going over here.)

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the review: cinnamon bread

I’m not a baker. I pretend for the sake of this blog that I am the best baker ever, but let’s get real. I’m not very good at it.

Despite this fact, I’ve been baking a lot lately. Sugar cookies for two hockey tournaments and a Nutcracker performance, gingerbread cookies and muffins for post-church coffee hour, and of course the twelve (!!) gingerbread houses that aren’t going to make themselves while I write this post. That may not sound like a lot, but I’ll bet I’ve made 10 dozen cookies and 4-5 dozen muffins in the last month. Oh. And I also made this bread.

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on NAMI

I’m not much of a fundraiser or soap boxer (ok, well I am a soap boxer) and I try not to use this space as a discussion board for political or social issues. I’m going to make an exception to the general rule right now and I’m going to rationalize it all the way because it is about my family and we all know that this blog is really more about my family than it is about food. If you aren’t interested, now’s the time to turn off your computer. Come back later, though. I won’t be this way forever.

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a case of food ennui

Last month, when I was in Los Angeles, I walked over 50 blocks roundtrip for an ice cream sandwich. I’m sure you are thinking that is completely ridiculous. But you probably also have a million questions about my ice cream sandwich. What flavor was it? Were the cookies homemade? Was it the best ice cream sandwich ever and you just had to have one? Why didn’t you take the car? Or a bike? I mean, you were in Los Angeles. Nobody walks there.

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freezer tomato sauce

My Aunt Debra can GROW some tomatoes. I’m sorry for shouting but I have never seen so many tomatoes in all my life. Ok, maybe I have seen that many tomatoes at the farmer’s market (and of course in a 1970s-ish cult movie which shall remain nameless), but not in someone’s yard. I am clearly friends with the wrong people. 

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the traveling alphabet

A couple of weeks ago, I was picking up craft supplies to help the little kids make a Father’s Day book, when I remembered that dry-erase markers work on plastic page protectors. It seemed like a mini $1.99 album might be just the thing a little person could use for practicing his or her letters. It was a total ah-ha moment. You know, the kind of moment where you are so proud of yourself for thinking of something magical and life altering and everyone else just nods their heads politely like, “Of course you can make an alphabet book from a photo album. I did that last week. We’ve moved on to carving marble.”

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the review: grilled tequila chicken fajitas and key lime bars

People, I can’t take a picture of a taco to save my life. I know, I probably should have taken a nice photo of the whole spread – tortillas, chicken, grilled limes, sliced jalapeños, grilled onions and peppers… I didn’t. We had friends over and it just didn’t seem like the right thing to do to make everyone wait to eat. The original photos from Confections of a Foodie Bride are lovely. So there. Take my word for it, these chicken fajitas are good.

What’s better than how they tasted is that I didn’t cook them. My husband did all the work. Marinated the chicken all day, prepped and grilled the veggies, even set the table. I can’t in good conscience review something that I didn’t make. But you should. This was tasty chicken.

I did, however, lift a finger for something related to Saturday night’s dinner. I made dessert. Not just any dessert. Key lime squares with coconut crust. Hello little bites of heaven!

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baked blueberry pancakes

I have got to clean up the piles in my house. Seriously, I have piles that have been growing since March when we left the house for the floor/kitchen upgrade. I’ve had my summer issue of Sweet Paul now for almost a week and still haven’t turned a page. My priorities are clearly in need of a reshuffle.

In the interest of getting a start on the clutter, I tackled a pile of magazines on Friday night. One of those magazines, the May issue of Martha Stewart Living, had a great article about updating ten basic family recipes. I’ll admit that few of these basics were already in my repertoire but I am willing to update what I didn’t know I needed. Can’t go wrong with kale and farro salad or walnut brownie cookies. So I started updating on Saturday morning with the baked blueberry pancake

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the review: sneaky banana muffins

I may have mentioned before that we make banana muffins all the time around here. As in so often that I no longer have to look up the recipe. And neither does our Girl-Friday, Lacie. I keep banana muffins in the freezer for snack or breakfast on the go or lunchbox treats. The recipe that I have used forever is from an old Williams Sonoma cookbook for kids that my mom gave my older kids ten years ago. Fortunately, the recipe is available online here.

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the whole food debate (or trying to get my kids to eat more better)

If you are following along at all, you will know by now that we just spent two weeks traveling with five of our kids. I’m a stay-at-home mom, so I spend a bit of time with my kids as it is, but not like this. No individual sports, no lessons, no school, no movies with friends, no work, no volunteering. All family time of some sort. Not all family together all the time, but family time in twos or threes or sevens all the same.

Let me just say first that my kids are pretty darn cool. I can roll my eyes and make jokes about them, but they truly are fantastic kids. And the vacation was an experience that I won’t forget. It was amazing to spend time with each of the kids in a way that my husband and I never get to do. But enough with the pleasantries. My kids eat junk. All the time.

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