I tried a new recipe last night -- the magazine I found it in calls it Oh My God Chicken, and I can't say I disagree with that. There are several whole heads of roasted garlic nestled in there amongst that saucy chicken, and some white wine and red pepper and onion and kalamata olives, not to mention that crunchy bacon crumbled on top, people. Deadly good.
Thanks to the informative internet, I also discovered that I've been making cinnamon toast the wrong way, lo these many years. I always thought (misguidedly) that the various flavour components were all that mattered. Thank you, Ree Drummond, for setting me straight. I sang you many hallelujahs, this morning. I sang them with crumbs flying from my mouth as I devoured the best cinnamon toast ever. If you are a cinnamon toast lover (I am talking to you, Mom) you should really give it a go. And don't leave out the vanilla, either. You will thank her.
Living life somewhere in the grey area between Liz Lemon and Nancy Botwin. I live with my beloved Heterosexual Life Mate (HLM), no kids, two beautiful feline ladies, and what I can only assume are self-replenishing stacks of fabric and yarn.
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