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bitchninthekitchnnn · 7 years

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Sex Posi Power MUFFins.

Anyone who knows me will tell you how much I like to talk about sex. It’s my favorite topic of conversation, my favorite activity, and my favorite topic to nerd out on. In my current state of late 20’s self-discovery, my interest in sex has become much more of a political perspective than a quirk of my personality. I identify very proudly as femme, poly, bisexual, queer, and most importantly, a SLUT.

Now let the bitchin’ begin. I was brutally slut shamed in high school. For the purpose of my argument, the circumstances are unimportant, but like many cis and trans feminine humans, it began after being the victim of sexual assault. Holy fuck kids are brutal! And who is to blame? Our warped ass society for sure. Have you ever re-watched any of your favorite 90’s movies and sitcoms? (Uh… duh!) Every time I watch something that I idolized as a kid, I am utterly disgusted by its politics. Friends, Sex and the City, Clueless, Wish Upon a Star, Can’t Hardly Wait, don’t even get me started on Disney. And seeing as we are still climbing out of the “abstinence only” education hole, Sex-Ed in our country is still struggling just to be “medically accurate.” Goddess forbid we talk about consent, pleasure, gender fluidity or anything other than heterosexuality.

Point being, sexual shame is rampant in American culture. Even as a self-proclaimed slut, I still struggle with shame on a daily basis. Thanks to a wonderful therapist, I recently started unpacking all this crap I internalized over the years. What have I found in the process? This shit takes work. When I finally started hearing the quiet yet vicious whispers in my brain, I was shocked. How could a person like me, that lets their slut flag fly, be so affected by and even sometimes a perpetrator of sexual shame? It’s literally woven into the fabric of our society and damn if it isn’t my life’s mission to snuff it out one “lude” conversation at a time.

Here’s the thing. You don’t have to be outspoken about your sex life or shout at the top of your lungs “I’M A SLUT!” to be sex positive. You do however have to start identifying the things that trigger your sexual shame. When you can really clearly hear those nasty little whispers, the easier it is to tell them to fuck right off. How do you do this? It’s no science, but here are a few ideas:

Vulnerability. Opening up and talking more authentically about my own sex life with friends, lovers, and family, has allowed me to own my sexuality in the spaces that matter to me most. In doing so, we also create a safe space for others to do the same.

Get educated! We are so lucky to live in a time where the internet exists. There are so many resources for learning about safety and pleasure, the most important things of all!

Literally cut the poison out. We all have our guilty internet pleasures, but to truly conquer your sexual shame, you’ve gotta stop following some folks. Curate your feeds with personalities whose politics you admire, who make you think, who are fierce in the face of sexual oppression.

I’m of the opinion that a path to sex positivity is a path to a safer, more enjoyable world, for us and most importantly for our non-binary and transgender friends, family and community members whose right to safety is not guaranteed. Lucky for us, there is a sea of intelligent, empowered, subversive personalities and resources that are out there doing the work.

Here are some things/people/org's that I love:

Shan Boody

Raising kids without sexual shame

Spectrum Boutique

The Pleasure Mechanics Podcast

Alok Vaid-Menon

Qwear Fashion

Down For Whatever Podcast

Polyamory Weekly Podcast

Virgie Tovar

Carina

The Center for Sex Education

Vagina Dispatches

Laura Callaghan

This TED Talk was so raw

Phew! There are so many more. Email me, let’s talk about sex!

Sexi Posi Power MUFFins. These are my favorite, they are gluten free, and can easily be made dairy-free or vegetarian. They’re kind of as bed friendly as it gets, masturbation makes me hungry.

Makes 12 MUFFins

Ingredients:

6 pastured eggs

8 -12 pieces pastured bacon

1/3 cup coconut flour

1 cup shredded or chopped cheddar cheese (or favorite variety of cheese)

1/4 - 1/2 tsp smoked paprika

1/4 tsp sea salt

1/2 tsp aluminum free baking powder

4 TBS fat (butter, coconut oil, bacon grease)

Add-ins of choice (optional, whatever you fucking feel like!)

1/2 cup sliced green onion

1/2 cup finely chopped parsley

Instructions: Preheat oven to 400 Degrees F. Grease 12 muffin tins with coconut oil (I know it’s bad but canola spray works so much better)

Cook bacon until crispy either in a skillet or in a 400 degree F oven.

Set aside and save bacon grease.

Mix the eggs, coconut flour, paprika, salt, and baking powder together in a bowl and let sit for at least 5 minutes.

The batter will be thick like a cookie batter.

Crumble bacon and add it along with the fat, cheese, and any add-ins.

Fill each muffin cup about 3/4 full.

Bake for 13-15 minutes until egg has puffed up and a toothpick comes out clean.

Remove from oven onto a baking rack and allow to cool slightly.

Pop them out with a spatula gently by separating the each muffin from the sides and bottom of the tin.

Voila! Breakfast for a week.

Aimee

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bitchninthekitchnnn · 7 years

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Expect Nothing = Fix Everything

Everyone on this planet has expectations. We expect that objects will be held down by gravity. We expect that we will continue to age as the sun continues to set. And we expect that people will behave in somewhat predictable ways.

But alas, expectations are the root of almost all of our problems. Having expectations means we are anticipating the end result before it has even happened yet. We often have a hard time dealing with things when they don’t go the way we imagined. For example, maybe our friend didn’t support us or we get dumped by the person we thought we would be with forever. The reason these situations upset us is because we had an expectation of what was going to happen. Our silly little brains thought we could predict what was going to happen next. We thought the world would continue to fit into the nice, neat little patterns we’ve come to depend on. How else are we supposed to have control over our lives if we can’t plan for the future, right? Aren’t we justified in being upset with the people around us when they don’t meet our needs? Well actually no. The only person who is 100% capable of firstly knowing and then satiating your every need is you. We get into the habit of expecting others to know when we are upset, when they haven’t met our expectations. Is it really on them to fix that? Or is it on us? Doesn’t it seem reasonable that the only person responsible for meeting your needs is you?

Let me give an example: If you watch a group of animals and one of them is hurt, you will notice the hurt animal instinctually knows exactly what it needs to do to take care of itself. The other animals in the group go about their day without fretting for the hurt animal. There is an understanding amongst them that they are all capable of taking care of themselves and that it is their own responsibility to do so.

So fluff up your own damn feathers and nurse the shit out of yourself when you get hurt. Check in with what expectations led you to feeling this way and then surrender control. Yeah, sounds really fucking scary. Things might get out of hand QUICK if we can’t rely on our expectations, right??? Wrong, so very wrong.

Here’s the thing: Life is going to go on existing around us despite our perception of it. Regardless of our worries or expectations, life tells us, “fuck your problems,” and carries on. That means it’s left up to us to know exactly which holes to patch, which wounds need stitching, and which parts of our soul needs healing. Once we can rely on ourselves to fix our own problems, it takes the pressure off of others. This leads to feelings of resilience, confidence, and independence.

Just know that often our brains lead us astray. Know that the responsibility of happiness falls only on us. Know that we ALL have the ability to take care of ourselves, just as every creature in nature does.

So along with the theme of embracing what IS and trying to not have expectations, I have created the Do Whatever the Fuck You Want Acai Bowl. I’m going to structure the recipe with quantifiable ingredients but please note that this can be made with whatever ingredients you have on hand. It’s very easy to get creative with this dish and I promise it’ll turn out delicious no matter how you make it.

Ingredients:

For the Base: 1 packet of Trader Joe’s unsweetened frozen acai 2 bananas 1 handful of spinach (I promise you won’t taste it!) ½ c blueberries (fresh or frozen work fine) ¼ c coconut milk

For the Topping: 4 strawberries 1 kiwi 1 banana ¼ toasted oats (I’ll link on how to make your own) 2 tbsp raw unsweetened coconut shreds

Steps: 1. Put all of the ingredients for the base into a blender and blend until smooth. If the mixture seems too runny, place it in the freezer for 30 min - 1 hour until it firms up. 2. Remove the tops of the strawberries and thinly slice. Skin the kiwi and thinly slice. Peel the banana and slice into coins. 3. Assemble the bowl by pouring the base first. Arrange strawberries, kiwi, and banana on top. Sprinkle with toasted oats and coconut shreds. 4. Be amazed and proud as you eat a whole day’s worth of fruits and veggies in one sitting.

Notes: -Toasted oats are very easy to make! Follow these instructions to make your own, Feel free to add spices such as cinnamon or ginger to give it a little flavor: http://www.tasteofhome.com/cooking-tips/ask-our-dietician/toasted-oats -Other suggestions to add to the acai base: cocoa powder, peanut butter, chia seeds, any fruit you want, kale, almond milk, etc -Here are some alternative topping ideas: chia seeds, mulberries, cocoa nibs, any fruit you want, cinnamon, rice krispies

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bitchninthekitchnnn · 7 years

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3 Reasons Why I Made My “Let-His-Ass-Go Lasagna”

SOME VERSION OF BITCHN’

There’s cooking, and there’s letting go. I’m only good at one of those things, and the other is more of an aspiration. My history of relationships (which is really “situationships” and “fornicationships”) is basically garbage. I say this, not just because the content was terrible, but also because of my perpetual inability to let. his. ass. go. But that’s getting old for me. The time has come for me to prioritize my personhood, and have some boundaries about my life. By the end of this, I will become the letting-his-ass-go-bad-bitch-supreme.

Note: this is entirely for me, and not you, the precious reader. I’m essentially having a chat with myself (I do that a lot), and you are a fly on the wall. (I’m only 40% joking.)

1. HIS BEHAVIOR

Meet Jay. Jay was funny, handsome, charming...and easily one of the most inconsiderate and selfish people I’ve ever met. These characteristics make him the best holistic image of every man I’ve ever been involved with sexually and romantically (I know what you’re thinking—“Well, what does that say about you then?” We’ll get to that later). He consistently prioritized his own needs over mine in our situation. He repeatedly reached out to me exclusively between the hours of 11:00 pm and 4:00 am, even after I told him to reach out during the day instead. Other than that, he ignored my calls and texts until he found some kind of benefit. He always asked me to do things that I already told him I wasn’t comfortable with. We were clearly just fuckbuddies, but in this Hollywood-inspired way where the “straight-acting” type dabbles in and out of my bedroom and treats our situation as this ambiguous, open-ended pocket full of possibilities. He wasn’t direct in any of the ways I needed him to be, and was an asshole in all of the ways I never deserved. He even told me one time that I wasn’t special.

Jay is a jackass. This behavior is entirely unacceptable, and I should have let his ass go a long time ago. But why did it take so long?

2. THE DYNAMICS

To give some helpful context, Jay was one of the few men of color that expressed interest in me. As a Queer Black Femme living in a very White town, I often gravitate to men of color because it’s so rare that I see myself mirrored in my day-to-day life. And while I could relate to him in ways I found difficult to do with other dudes who weren’t men of color, when did that become more important than how he treated me? Perhaps the biggest thing I learned throughout my time with Jay was the destructive fluidity in the way I have learned to compromise. I need to learn what it means to demonstrate commitment in a way that isn’t so self-sacrificing and that positions my needs parallel to his. I can also benefit from having some kind of rubric (see: standards) for the kind of dude that is truly deserving of my time and energy, while also making sure that I am that for him as well. I need to figure out the purpose of my pursuing a relationship, and work on how to develop some level of accountability with the person I pursue. And if that doesn’t work out, then I need to find the courage to…(say it with me) LET. HIS. ASS. GO.

3. THEN THERE’S MY SHIT

Lately, I’ve asked myself this question: Would you rather be with Jay or be alone? I am bothered by the fact that I cannot give the answer that I know I should give. I should say that I’m 25 years old, in a decent spot in life, and deserving of all the joy, pleasure, and positive energy my heart could possibly muster, therefore I don’t NEED any boo in my life unless they’re adding to my vibes, and not depleting them. That’s what I should say. I think the truth is closer to not really knowing myself enough to appreciate my worth as a human being, and automatically yielding to whatever others think of me and/or creating and sustaining space and time for any dude who seems ideal. That’s some sad shit. That’s why I said this is some version of bitchin. The version where I get to shout out the trash that has chosen to walk into my world and be bad to me, and also call myself out in the process. The version where I learn to be patient with myself (and less patient with trash), and embrace the fluidity of what the rest of my 20’s can bring (while rejecting the fluidity of what I deserve--what I deserve is concrete and necessary). The version where I address that I don’t really know myself as well as I used to, and would love to spend more time getting to know who I am and what I enjoy. One of the ways I do that is by cooking. So speaking of fluidity, here’s my very fluid recipe for the LET-HIS-ASS-GO Lasagna. For individuals of the cooking community who aspire to let go:

SOME VERSION OF THE KITCHN’

Cook Time: However long you want (As you’ll learn, this recipe may not feel helpful—but I’ll do my best.)

Slow cooker (*Disclaimer--some of you go the slow cooker route so that you can leave your home, conquer the world, and return to a prepared meal. That’s not why I use it. Don’t leave--I’ll explain.)

Slow cooker liners (recommended because letting go takes long enough and no one has time to clean more shit than necessary)

Non-stick spray

Box o’ lasagna

Ground beef/turkey

Italian sausage

Onion

Ricotta Cheese--Part Skim Milk

Onion powder

Pasta Sauce (I use tomato and basil flavored)Chicken (recommended because why not)

Pepperoni (recommended because why not)

Spinach (because it’s green)

Your favorite cheeses (I always use mozzarella and parmesan at least)

Black pepper

Salt

Garlic powder

Blend, season, and brown your meat using stove or oven.

Chop and prepare onions and spinach.

Place the liner in your slow cooker. Apply your non-stick spray to ensure a loose relationship between your meal and the plastic liner.

Layer up!

I always put sauce on the bottom.

Then, I place a layer of lasagna.

From there, the choice is yours. I enjoy it when my lasagna noodles and ricotta get to know one another so I put that next.

I believe I did sauce, lasagna, ricotta, spinach, meat, onion, cheese, and repeat.

Once you’re satisfied with your layering sorcery, turn it on.

After it’s done, dine like you’ve known yourself your entire life and don’t need anyone to tell you who are.

If you’re still unsatisfied, I believe I put it on high for 4 hours (its highest temperature), went to my room, put on some break-up music, typed half of this piece, and it was done in like 2 hours. The key is truly the faith that you build in yourself to trust your cooking abilities. You’ll know when it’s done, much like situationships you don’t belong in. Hopefully.

You probably noticed that I didn’t give any real measurements, temperatures, or times. I never said I was good at giving directions (or letting go). Much like getting to know yourself, you just have to see what feels good to you. Take some time! Give yourself permission to discover what you like and don’t like. The likelihood of burning the lasagna is low since you’ll be somewhere in your home the whole time getting to know yourself and moving beyond your past.

A note from the ‘Editor’:

I’ve known Tyrell Allen for a liiiiittle while now. We worked together as Resident Assistants back in the college days that aren’t that far away. We were super salty during staff meetings and just general grumps with the hooligans. Some of those times- that hooligan was me. I have my moods. Anyway, Tyrell is amazing. From his awesome dancing and singing all the time, a fucking amazing fashion sense that I will never have, and there is just something awesome about being around someone that knows themselves. Tyrell gives no fucks. I appreciate that more than you will ever know. Surround yourself with people like Tyrell and you won’t regret your life.

Now it’s tough because we’ve been trying forever to get together and get drinks but busy people with busy lives. TYRELL WE NEED TO GET DRINKS STILL. -Elle

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bitchninthekitchnnn · 7 years

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Not-So-Old Fashioned:

Truth serum, served without bitters and with mint for garnish (optional)

Truth: men who make vocal claims as to not being sexist are the ones who will say things so sexist they will make you menstruate on the spot.

These guys mean well, they really do, I think they do, mostly, maybe.

But that doesn’t make them not-sexist.

Today–International Women’s Day–we women might hear a few of these, ah, sexisms. I’ve provided my recommendations on how to deal with them, followed by my recommendation on what to drink afterward.

Exhibit A:

“I’m not sexist. I love women!”

Ah, yes. Classic. Because the issue here is that we are worried men might not love us. (By the way, if you haven’t heard someone say this, buy some Internet, take a field trip from your commune, then report back.)

Sir: your “love” for women doesn’t count for shit. It doesn’t, for example, make it appropriate for me to take my married, 40-something male boss out for drinks to shoot the shit about the industry. You forgot this, because it is appropriate for you.

How to begin a discussion with this guy:

“I don’t think there’s a correlation between ‘loving’ women and allowing sexism to trickle into daily interactions like water through a broken dam.”

How to end a discussion with this guy:

“I bet you love getting paid more for the same job, too.”

Exhibit B:

“I mean, women are so strong. They’re awesome because they can have babies.”

But, like, fuck the rest of us, right? This guy is missing the point entirely. My magical, baby-producing, vessel-of-life self is just a bonus to that fact that I’m – brace yourself – me.

(By the way, unlike Chaka Khan, I’m *not* every woman. Some women are weak. But that’s a topic for another day and not linked to gender (it’s linked to choosing resiliency; read about it when you’re finished reading this).)

How to begin a discussion with this guy:

“I agree; there’s nothing quite like the miracle of childbirth. However, have you considered that a woman’s merits are not merely, er, fallopian?”

How to end a discussion with this guy: “I, too, am amazed that someone has reproduced with you.”

Exhibit C:

“I think women should be able to do whatever they want.”

This…shouldn’t need to be spoken aloud.

How to end a discussion with this guy:

That depends. how tightly can you squint your eyes while slowly tilting your head to one side? Hold that pose.

Exhibit D, my personal favorite:

“Oh, nonono, I actually think women are way better than men. Especially considering they’re sick for a week every month.”

I...what? Oh. Oh okay, you are referring to periods. As a sickness.

Yes, it’s true. I’ve accomplished a lot, considering I have 3 fewer months in the year than men do, and I spend those months being out of my mind, hahahahaha! I recognize that some women do have stronger symptoms than others, and I can’t speak for us all. Me? I’m a bitch all month long.

How to begin a discussion with this guy:

*Fake laugh* “I appreciate the sentiment, but – as others have mentioned – a key factor in feminism is recognizing where our own privileges lie to better sense their absence in someone else’s life. Why do people act like rights are fixed or mutually exclusive? Giving them to others does not remove them from you. Period. (Oh my God, I said period).

How to end a discussion with this guy:

Actually, stick with this one. But if you’re utterly exhausted by him, as I damn well understand you might be, just tell him that you have to go: it’s an emergency, and you’ll see him again in a week.

So, happy International Women’s Day. Be fearless, show kindness, and fix yourself a drink.

Not-So-Old Fashioned

This one’s a strong one, gals. Recipe serves one.

Ingredients:

Sugar rim

lemon juice (or other liquid of choice), fresh chopped mint, sugar

To create sugar rim, simply dip the edge of the glass (I like to give it a li’l asymmetrical roll) into the lemon juice, then gently roll the glass in the chopped-mint-and-sugar mixture. Then pat yourself on the back, you classy broad.

Cocktail:

2 oz gin

¼ oz St-Germain or other elderflower liqueur

¼ oz grapefruit juice

1 blood orange, for garnish (and for juice, which is really just to take that coral pink of grapefruit to the next level, which is hot pink).

I sort of made this up based off a recipe that called for rhubarb bitters, which sounds amazing but hard to track down in New York. I’ve removed the bitters, which I figured makes a nice metaphor and added the blood orange and mint rim. #Aesthetics.

Combine cocktail ingredients in a shaker with ice.

Pour into an old-fashioned glass (or stemless wine glass, as shown here, or really anything you have on hand) with or without ice. My ice is shaped like diamonds, so I chose “with ice.” Sip at whatever pace you want.

A Note from the “Editor”:

Hoooooly shit. No fucking joke. One, these images rule. It’s like she does shit like this for a living. Which she totally does. Rosalee is an art director in New York (oh la la faaaaaancy) You can find her on Instagram and on her website. Check her out!

I can’t stand hearing these things make their way out of someone’s mouth. I don’t know how to not blow up on these people. Usually, if I’m not laughing awkwardly because I can’t talk to them- I’m flat out mouthy. I hate explaining things that seem so common sense to me. Like a lot of marginalized groups, educating the ignorant around you is a huge burden and it compounds. Yeah, being a woman is hard, but being a trans woman sets these questions on a whole different level and adding race makes the whole thing so much easier. *rolls eyes* It’s hard for me to complain too much.

Welcome to International Women’s Day. Make sure that you are making your life better by making change and telling the people in your life to do better when you know they can. Also keep challenging yourself to diversify your life. International Women’s Day should inspire you to look into a new role model. :) I recommend my lady crush, Chimamanda Ngozi. Seriously. You have to love her. She’s incredibly smart, really funny, her writing. HER WRITING. She’s doing exactly what she was meant to do. #girlpower #blackgirlmagic She inspires me. Im gushing, i’ll stop.

#feminism #intersectional feminism #food #recipe #booze #friend #art

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bitchninthekitchnnn · 7 years

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Lavender Crème Brûlée Bae

I don’t have a topic that I feel I need to “bitch” about right this moment; although, there is much to bitch about. Girl, you know it. Girl, I know it.

With that being said, I would rather like to share a really bitchin’ and empowering experience that I had recently. An experience that I feel like was a “coming-of-age” as far as giving me a friendly reminder that my femininity is what I chose it to be.

Since we are still dabbling a little past the month of February, I will bring up my most loathed holiday- Valentine’s Day.

I won’t say that I always disliked Valentine’s Day; in my youngest years, I really enjoyed receiving flowers from my dear father. It was a gesture I always appreciated, I love him dearly. Even though I wish he would have given me plants instead. Dying flowers breaks my heart. Anyways- as I got older, the meaning of Valentine’s day began to evolve into something unimportant or undesired.

Valentine’s day used to mean getting gifts from an emotionally-abusive, territorial, possessive, insecure exe that I had many moons ago. Being showered with unnecessary material things that were to persuade me to forgive another year’s worth of unverbalized apologies. Or, even worse. This year, 2/14/2017, was going to mark the one year anniversary of the time I had to come to terms with my alcoholism. Valentine’s day, at that point, was to become an annual reminder that I have a DUI permanently on my used-to-be-clean criminal record. Needless to say, the date hasn’t left a good impression with me.

This year was different, though- I was invited to my first ever Galentine’s day. A day where you take the time to appreciate and recognize the gal pals in your life? Never had done it before, and I sure as fuck will do it again every year.

I recently reconnected with my oldest friend, whom I have known since 1st grade. She has grown into one of the strongest and most beautiful women I know. She surrounds herself with grace and perfectly timed humorous remarks with a pinch of clumsy and attracts those who also manifest and channel an enchanting livelihood. This was apparent upon meeting all the women I did at Galentine’s, each woman ideal in her own singular way.

Our evening was filled with Stevie Nicks, Neil Young, Buffalo Springfield, and other artists’ records of the like were played. A couple wine boxes were shared amongst a group of diverse and conscious women (me drinking my one tall can of Dale’s Pale Ale, I’ve always been more of a beer girl), as well as a homemade meal followed by creme brulee for dessert. So much laughter was shared in the process of building our self-love altar; where we proceeded to bless trinkets, make a self-love potion, pet a 17-year-old kitty, read our tarot cards, and hold hands in thanks.

We shared stories and vulnerability with each other. We built each other up, recognized each other for our differences and worshiped our unique womanness’. Nothing negative entered into our night, I will never forget it.

Before that night, never had I felt so much love and empowerment at one moment. Never have I been reminded of how beautiful it is to be the woman that I am because it is what I CHOOSE to be. I have always struggled with allowing external forces to make me question what it means to me to be a woman. Which, until recently in the last few months, used to be an extremely uncomfortable and distressful way of life. I hope that this story can also shed some light on its readers, especially those that battle with a similar internal struggle. I want to remind you of how exemplary you are as a woman, as a person, because it is YOUR choice to be such.

So, cheers my Goddess Warriors! Raise your glasses to the truth that there is greatness in the gathering of women- there always has been! We have many battles that we will face in our lifetimes and beyond. Let us surround ourselves with each other, a star is much brighter in the night sky beside a million more

Lady Lavender Creme Brulee:

Ingredients:

4 cups heavy cream

1 tablespoon dried culinary lavender flowers

8 egg yolks

3/4 cup granulated sugar, divided

Instructions:

Preheat oven to 300 degrees F. Butter six (6ounce) ramekins or custard cups and set them into a glass baking dish. If cooking custards in a metal pan, cover the bottom of the pan with a layer of newspaper to ensure an even temperature on the bottom.

Place custard cups in a shallow ovenproof roasting or baking pan.

Tip: Place a nonstick baking mat (called a silpat) or a tea towel on the bottom of your baking dish to both insulate and keep the ramekins firmly in place.

In a large, heavy saucepan over medium heat, add cream and the lavender flowers; heat just to a simmer. Remove from heat and allow lavender flowers to infuse with the cream for 5 minutes. Strain cream mixture through a fine mesh strainer to remove lavender flowers: discard lavender flowers.

In a large bowl, whisk together the egg yolks and 1/2 cup sugar until light and creamy. Slowly add the strained cream to the egg mixture, blending well. Divide custard mixture among the custard cups. Bring the water for the water bath to a light simmer on top of the stove; carefully pour hot water into the baking pan to come halfway up the sides of the custard cups.

NOTE: The most common mistake people make in baking a custard is not putting enough water in the hot water bath. The water should come up to the level of the custard inside the cups. You must protect your custard from the heat.

Bake up to 60 minutes or until the custard is set around the edges but still loose in the center. The cooking time will depend largely on the size of the custard cups you are using and the altitude you are at. Begin checking at a half hour and check back regularly. When the center of the custard is just set, it will jiggle a little when shaken, that's when you can remove it from the oven. If using a digital instant-read thermometer, inserted in the centers, the internal temperature should register approximately 170 to 175 degrees F.

Begin checking temperature about 5 minutes before recommended time. Remove from oven and leave in the water bath until cooled. Remove cups from water bath and refrigerate at least 2 hours or up to 2 days.

Finishing the Creme Brulees: Finish the custards right before serving. When ready to serve, sprinkle approximately 2 teaspoons of remaining sugar over each creme brulee. For best results, use a small hand held propane torch. Hold the torch 4 to 5 inches from the sugar, maintaining a slow and even motion. Stop torching just before the desired degree of doneness is reached, as the sugar will continue to cook for a few seconds after flame has been removed. If you don't have a torch, place creme brulees 6 inches below the broiler for 4 to 6 minutes or until sugar bubbles and turns golden brown. Refrigerate creme brulees at least 10 minutes before serving. Makes 6 to 8 servings (depending on size of custard cups). Enjoy!

Note from the “Editor”:

Marybeth is a super rad lady. We met when we were working at a crafts store and she was easily the coolest person there. Super easy to make friends with. You’d love her the minute you met her. You can find her on her Instagram! Also, Crème brûlée is my favorite desert. Something about cracking that sugar layer makes me so damn happy. Adding lavender makes it so much better. :)

It’s also all my fault that this is about valentines and I’m posting it so late! I suck. It’s all my fault all my fault. Valentine’s day is such a weird day- full of weirdness. I spent this past holiday in training at the safe shelter, where we talked about domestic violence for 4 hours after a long day at work. Sooo romantic. Nothing like driving 30 minutes back home while crying at 10 pm and then trying to be ‘romantic’ because it's a stupid holiday. He understood, though. :)

All that aside, I like to celebrate my friends every chance I get. I consider myself really lucky that I can get so many people to write and express themselves with me and the world. Be sure to do that for the people in your life. Male, female, non-binary, whatever people in your life, make sure that they know you appreciate them, no matter what day it is, holiday or no.

#friendship #galentines #valentines #recipe #food #feminism #galpals #super rad #dessert #i love this lady #lady #support #relationship

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bitchninthekitchnnn · 7 years

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EDUCATIONAL ENCHILADAS

HOW TO EDUCATE YOURSELF, DIG OUT OF APATHY, AND MAKE A DIFFERENCE

Deciding what to write for this blog has been a struggle for me. I feel like there’s so much I want to say, but I don’t want to ramble or preach. I’m also terrified of expressing an opinion that might hurt, misrepresent, or make assumptions about other people. There are so many things I wrestle with – what privileges I have, my prejudices, my insignificance in the grand scheme of things – how can I alone make a difference? It’s a hazy cloud of apathy that’s hard to see through.

“And yet, she persisted.”

The only thing I’ve found that helps me fight through these feelings of inadequacy and inactivity is education. What about, though? Staying up do date on current events is the first step, and you gotta make sure it’s from RELIABLE NEWS SOURCES. It’s super easy to find the blogs/news outlets/videos that lean towards your particular stance, but you have to know what the opposition is up to, and a neutral news base is the best way to do that without getting heavy-handed info from the left or right. It’s also really important in order to avoid misrepresenting other groups and keeping yourself from making uninformed assumptions. I find this chart helpful, but make sure you fact-check EVERYTHING. These ‘alternative facts’ don’t belong anywhere in an age when information is more widely accessible than ever.

Now what?

Educate yourself about where you stand. What are your rights? What are your privileges? This is from the perspective of a white woman, BTW. We have to admit to ourselves what our privileges are, even if they make us uncomfortable. For example, I lack certain privileges because I am a woman, but I am white, and there are a whole slew of privileges I have because of it. Acknowledging that you benefit from socio-economical norms put in place by your ancestors that systemically oppress others is important. The only way you can make a difference is accepting that fact, and making a conscious effort to NOT CONTINUE/NORMALIZE IT. This goes for almost anything – sexism, racism, etc. In order to do that though, you gotta know you do it in the first place, and avoiding the conversation is just as bad as continuing systematic oppression. EDUCATE YOURSELF. Lastly, educate yourself on what YOU can do to help OTHERS. Take stock of your privileges and what you are able to do/not do. Can you stand for a long time?

Go to a rally! I personally get really anxious in large crowds, so I do art fundraisers and donate to the causes I support instead. Have other talents? Can you cook? Sew?Make and donate meals or blankets or hats or socks or anything useful for your local protesters, homeless shelters, etc. Give your time and talents where they’re needed.

Have some free time? Volunteer! Literally, anything is better than doing nothing.Recognize where your voice is heard, and scream at the top of your lungs. Cuz if we don’t, no one will.

Now for some delicious food! Nothin’ fancy, just tasty as hell.

EDUCATIONAL ENCHILADAS RECIPE:

INGREDIENTS:

8-12 Flour Tortillas

1 Can Cream of Chicken Soup

1 ½ Cups Cooked Chicken

8 oz Shredded Cheddar Cheese

1 Small Onion

1-2 Chopped Jalapeno Peppers

2-4 Tbsp. Chopped Mild Peppers

8 oz Sour Cream

Mix together wet ingredients! Save back 4-6 Tbsp. of the mixture to top the enchiladas with. Place 3-4 tbsp in a tortilla and roll up, laying them down in a pan. Top the tortillas with the last 4-6 Tbsp. of the mixture, sprinkle them with cheese and refrigerate for 2-3 hours. Bake at 325 for 20-30 minutes. Serve with salsa and sour cream and Cholula or Sriracha or avocado or whatever the heck you wanna put on there.

A Note from the “Editor”:

AH. This is what I’m saying people. Grace has it down. I love that I know so many awesome people and I hope that it’s something that every reader (if you’re really out there) can reach out and follow and make these people your people too. I’m terrible at networking and getting connected, but I like to try to surround myself with people who are doing something, always thinking, and inspire me. You can find Grace’s amazing work on Instagram and on her Website.

Educating yourself isn’t difficult but it’s hard to push for something especially when you don’t know where to start. I am completely nerdy about signing up for newsletters from all sorts of sites and reading them compulsively. I’m the sort of person that can’t stand seeing unread messages in my inbox. Newsletters are cool because even if you’re not paying for content from places like NY Times and Wall Street Journal, you can still get filled in a bit, and sometimes sneak in. Some newsletters I recommend are: Vox Sentences The Skimm Need 2 Know Politico (Sign up for any that interest you) CNN Newsletters BBC Newsletter NPR and, a personal just for fun favorite- Another Round. (seriously please listen to them. They make my fucking week every time they upload a new episode.)

I also sign up for multiple newsletters from different sources (although admittedly mostly liberal- but thoroughly fact checked) so that I can check them against each other and see how it changes or doesn’t. Sometimes reading multiple articles about the same thing can give you a broader look at something and will generally help you form your own opinions instead of parroting someone else’s.

Now you probably know too much about my weird email neuroticism. I’m the same about text messages. If you haven’t heard a response from me, there is an 80% chance I’m ignoring you, 10% I was sleeping, 10% I was driving. Just to be as honest as I can be.

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bitchninthekitchnnn · 7 years

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BITCHN’ BUFFALO BITES

I have a habit of spewing apologies and saying sorry for everything in my life. I apologize for ridiculous things, most of which involve events out of my control and faults that I needn’t take responsibility for. I can say with almost certainty that the people and inanimate objects I say sorry to, could care less—it’s probably rather annoying. Why and what am I apologizing for all the time?

“It’s like we’re apologizing for our very existence,” my coworker Suzie said when I brought it up at work.

She nailed it. If there’s an absence of fault that we’re claiming than it must be the space we occupy. Right? It was comforting to encounter another manic apologetic person. In fact when I brought it up at work I realized how many people around me could relate— I happen to work with all women. As much as I detest the argument of it’s because you’re a woman, it seems inevitable that myself and the women around me feel more apt to apologize than men do.

Being over apologetic is unintentionally a play of power, both internally and externally. An apology relies on the power dynamic between the person apologizing and the person accepting it. Ideally an apology is in place as a way to take responsibility for doing wrong. It’s a way of fixing a fault, but by giving an absent apology, it’s a consent of power—something men don’t do easily and that women have been attempting to break the cycle of for centuries. I say this because it’s a product of our culture that men are taught to strive for authority, but women are raised to be polite.

Although it may not be the worst problem to have, there are two distinct things plaguing me about it. One, I’m bothered by the idea that being overly apologetic means being weak and even dumb and two, I think that’s exactly what being overly apologetic means to me.

I fear that being overly apologetic is rhetoric for the air-headed. That is my own opinion and I don’t feel too good saying it. When I make mistakes and immediately follow them up with a good rambling of I’m sorry, I’m squandering myself. It’s ok to make mistakes and making mistakes doesn’t mean that I’m dumb, but saying sorry every time I mess up just exaggerates my mistakes into something ridiculous and unmanageable. The use of I’m sorry instead of I’ll note that for next time, feels like I can’t do any better. It doesn’t leave any room for growth after the mistakes and so I might as well just apologize for the mistakes I know I’m going to make. The irony is that I know I can do better, but my overuse of excuses say otherwise. It’s my verbal acquittance that’s holding me back. I know that I’m smart, confident, and fully capable of common place daily activities, but it’s some hardwiring that’s riddled me to feel weak.

It’s also in part that I’m uncomfortable with the thought of confrontation so much so that I would rather shuck out a trail of apologies for absent problems rather than have issues arise. It’s easier to just do everything outrageously possible to avoid problems even if it means betraying my own well-being.

I value myself as being empathetic, but shit is getting out of hand. Besides I’m beginning to wonder, can an apology coming from an overly apologetic person be sincere? I have had my fair share of whole-hearted apologies, but after noting the amount of sorry’s I say in a day, I wonder how much I’ve drained the meaning. Apologizing is defined as expressing regret for something that one has done wrong. I’ve done nothing wrong, but my will to please others has me accepting faults outside of my own. It’s a cringingly hard habit to break.

In seeking solutions of how to be more unapologetic I took to the internet. This filled my browsers with reasons why one shouldn’t apologize—a list my anxious self didn’t want to read—but I did uncover a few tips that I want to start with.

Melody Wilding a teacher of Behavioral Science at The City University of New York and a contributor to Forbes magazine for Psychology outlines a three step quit plan for those addicted to the comforts of saying sorry. She suggests individuals should identify early childhood tendencies, observe situations when unnecessary apologies are used, and begin replacing unwarranted apologies with accurate statements to better communicate a point.

This last step, making accurate statements, comes across as a manageable approach. One of which I can practice with simple situations and people outside of work and then integrate it into all aspects of my life. I’ve challenged myself when I’m shopping or out in public to not apologize unnecessarily. I’ve also tried to identify some of the things I’m never sorry for or about. Things such as travel, my family, friends, writing, and delicious food. Grounding myself in these factors, may allow me to give less about the little things and start appreciating the rarity in which I actually need to apologize.

One thing I’m never sorry for is the healthy relationship I have with my friends and the time we share enjoying food. Among the countless things I’ve learned from my best friend Elle, the amazing host of this site, is how to make amazing food out of minimal supplies. As long as I’ve known her she’s been whipping up crazy bites in the kitchen even when our kitchen was a sandwich maker and a microwave in college. I’m addicted to krautcakes and I dream about her brown sugar bacon. She even turned me on to spicy foods with her skills and affection for flavor. Our friendship has often times flourished in the kitchen and even as we live half a world away from one another, FaceTime takes place in the kitchen.

She’s given me the confidence to be myself, be out of control, and be goofy. She’s always filled my belly and upon evaluation she’s the one that could absolve me of the need to always apologize. I say sorry the least around her and one thing I know I’m not sorry for is all the time we’ve had bitchin in the kitchen. So in salute to the launch of a good site and good food, my recipe is Bitchin Buffalo Bites, a delicious combination of cheese and chicken all bountifully deep-fried and drenched in hot sauce. So here’e to not being sorry about the food we eat and the company we keep!

THE FOOD

INGREDIENTS:

3 cups shredded chicken *Chicken should already be prepared either by boiling, baking, or cooking chicken on the stove and then shredded. You can substitute chicken for other types of meat or load these wraps up with veggies*

¼ cup Frank’s Red Hot or any Buffalo Sauce

2 tbs of Ranch dressing (optional)

2 cups shredded mozzarella cheese

20 wonton wrappers (one package found in produce at the store)

Vegetable oil for cooking

DIRECTIONS:

Combine chicken, Frank’s and Ranch in a medium sized bowl.

Taking out individual wonton wrappers, place a spoonful of chicken mixture in one of the upper corners of your wrapper leaving a border. Add mozzarella cheese evenly.

Fill a small bowl or glass with water that you will use to dip your fingers in and wet the edges of your wonton wrapper in order to create a seal when you roll it together. Roll the wrapper, starting from the top where your stuffing is and continue to roll while tucking in the edges.

Fill a cooking pan with vegetable oil and begin to heat on a medium setting.

Place egg rolls face down in the hot oil with caution. Facedown meaning so the pointed part of your wrap is emerged in the oil and won’t unwrap.

Cook and crisp for 1-2minutes and then flip to crisp the other side.

Remove golden brown wraps from the heat and let cool on a plate.

Stuff your face

For a healthier option use the oven by heating to 400 degrees and baking for 10-12 minutes on a non-stick pan. Consider brushing wonton wrappers with butter in order to give them the golden brown crunch that makes them so good.

*Original recipe and idea found on Buzzfeed*

Note from the “Editor”:

If you haven’t heard of Scratch My Pack- you should. Rose and her amazing Fiancee, Tom are traveling the world (and breaking my heart) for such a long time. They have a great collection of travel tips and tricks, stories and photographs that will make you want to quit your day job and travel the world like these badasses.

Rose is really too nice to me. There is no way that I’m this nice. Anyone that really knows me knows that I am a complete ass hat. She’s my best friend and she gets the full brunt of all my weird humor, honesty, and a perpetual need to eat every two hours. I think I like to challenge everyone I care about. With Rose, it was always food. She used to ogle me when I ate bowls of hot sauce, and whine when I made dinner too spicy. Now, she’s been trained in the ways of maybe being able to survive some spicy food in Asia if she’s brave. I couldn’t be prouder. She’s amazing, and should never have to apologize for anything. Like I tell her every time she needs to rant to me or say something on her mind. Try not to apologize for your life. You’re here, everyone else can deal with it.

Also: something that helps me in emails is this cool extension for chrome.

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bitchninthekitchnnn · 7 years

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Pink Pussy Hat Popcorn

It seems that, no matter how hard we try to avoid it, no matter how much we want to pretend to live in a magical world of rainbows and shit, there it is: our orange ominous cloud of doom; the Commander in Chief. As I sit in this kitchy San Francisco cafe among all my fellow hipsters watching President Mister Potato Head make an hour long speech out of what could've only been two sentences (as if adding water to an almost empty ketchup bottle makes it the most ketchup-y ketchup ever, and everyone agrees), I can see that those rainbows and shit have gone to a better place.

For those of you just tuning in, here's just one, because, you know, I don't want to completely break your hearts, of the actions our new POTUS is backing up, both tiny hands down for:

He's building a fucking wall. It's actually happening. This is no longer a drill. This action is almost mirroring the construction of the Berlin Wall, said to keep out Fascists and other enemies of the State, while it's real purpose was to keep East Berliners from moving to the West. As Trump has said (and I'm paraphrasing here), "They took our jahbs!", it seems like there's an underlaying reason that will most likely show it's yuge face sooner or later.

As I sit here, seeing this all go down, I can only imagine that this horror is like watching the schoolyard bully slowly pack an icy snowball, making eye contact and smiling, before hurling it at your face. We're all just watching, cold and helpless, the growing of our potential doom. Times are changing, and it doesn't look too optimistic. Or not, who knows. Meh.

Way too often I have read or watched the news and had a violent urge to flip up tables and scream, "WHHYYYY?!", but this is a society and that, along with shaking people and cursing at televisions in public places, is generally frowned upon. I guess my last grasp of hope is seeing so many generations stand up and voice their opinions. I was among the 100k women, men, and children who marched in San Francisco on the 21st last month, with the crowd growing as it grew later. Did I mention it was fucking raining, too? I should also mention, that I was not there for the full 5 hours of the march, because well, 5 hours. I still do to consider myself an activist because I was there, I stood up in solidarity with so many other people for basic human rights...even though I side stepped out because this lady did not prepare for rain. Yet, for every activist, there is someone willing to just give up, lay down, and watch this happen- the civil injustices, racism, bigotry, and flat out ignorance- and, just go, "Meh". I mean, I feel ya, I'm lazy, too. There's only so much we can say and do to get everyone involved. So, I chose a flavored popcorn recipe for those of you who would rather sit down and watch this tragic comedy of a presidency unravel. I mean, you've read this far, at least you're trying, amiright?

Lucky Elephant Pink Popcorn

I like this recipe mostly because it’s pink. With pink being the color for the Women’s March and Valentine’s Day approaching, it seemed fitting. This popcorn is a common children’s snack in Canada, which is also fitting, being that most of us Americans love to talk about our plans to move there during pretty much every election. Like Trump’s speeches, it has a light candy coating and, like Trump himself, is very vanilla.

You can find this recipe all over the internet, so citing it seems irrelevant, they only really vary when it comes to how you pop the popcorn, some suggest an air popper or a stovetop, I suggest a microwave because, as I’ve said before, I’m lazy as hell. This recipe took me about 10 minutes to make, most of the time was just waiting for the mixture to come to a boil. I’ve also included a video incase you just don’t feel like reading.

A video posted by M.R.B. (@emarebe) on Jan 26, 2017 at 5:24pm PST

You’ll Need:

1 bag of popcorn

2/3 cup of whole milk or half&half

1 tbsp white corn syrup

¼ tsp salt

2 cups granulated sugar (I used a substitute)

1 tsp vanilla

pink food coloring

baking sheet

Optional (but not really): 1 bottle of wine.

Let’s get poppin’:

1. Grab your bag of popcorn and throw that shit in the microwave, following the time that’s on the bag. Pour a glass of wine.

2. Stir milk, corn syrup, and salt together in a saucepan on medium heat. Pour your sugar into the center, without touching the sides of the pan. Bring the mixture to a boil and stir occasionally until all the sugar is dissolved. You’re half way there, look at you go! Sip wine.

3. Stir occasionally until you see large bubbles in the mixture (shown in the video, it takes about 10 minutes). Remove from the heat and stir in the vanilla and food coloring.

4. Here’s the annoying part where you might need an extra set of hands; working quickly, open the bag of popcorn and pour the mixture into the bag, shake that shit up. I recommend that whoever is holding the popcorn bag wear gloves, because that shit it hot. Pour the popcorn onto the baking sheet and mix a bit more with whatever you feel like using. Finish your glass of wine while you wait about 5 minutes for the popcorn to set. Enjoy!

-Melissa Rae Burns

Note from the “editor”:

Melissa is my awesome cousin. I’ve always looked up to her. When family shit hits the wall, she’s the one I call because she fucking understands. She’s always been there to tell me I’m not crazy. We both tend to be the black sheep of the family, trying to make things work when more than often it's plainly not going to go well.

Melissa is a complete badass. She get’s things done and she does so much! Check out her Instagram, it’s amazing. She has this (stupidly) cute dog that I plan on stealing sometime. Probably when I can actually make the time to come see her, like I’m always hoping to, but never can. This year we actually mailed out x-mas presents to each other, unlike last year when we forgot to do that for a year. -_- progress ladies. Progress is slow.

If you want to write for this blog, just let me know. You can email me through [email protected] or go through the submission page here too. They are both good options. It doesn’t have to be political, I know it’s looking this way, but woof, it’s the elephant in the kitchen. It’s hard to miss. You can also post anonymously too, You just need to let me know or submit it as such on tumblr.

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bitchninthekitchnnn · 7 years

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Women Puddin’ Other Women Down

I’m going to bitch about a topic that’s really been grinding my gears lately: women putting other women down. But before I get started, I wanted to talk about the Women’s March that happened last weekend on Saturday January 21st.

IT. WAS. AWESOME.

I participated in the Denver, Colorado march. My roommates and I got up at the crack of dawn, drove to Denver (we live in Boulder) and marched from morning ‘til afternoon.

Everything about the day was exhilarating. We chose to drive to Denver because the line for the RTD bus at the Boulder station wrapped around the block (this was at 7:15AM, hours before the march was supposed to start). As we drove down route 36, we saw floods of people along each bus stop, faces and signs bright from the reflection of the pink sunrise.

After we found a parking spot in Denver, we stopped for a caffeine fix at Pablo’s Coffee. We waited in line for 40 minutes with dozens of other marchers to find that our coffee and breakfast treats had been covered for all participating in the march. As we made our way to the capital, the streets were flooded with caring, loving, progressive, strong people, all eager to hit the streets.

The morning had a slow start. We were at a standstill for about 2 hours. The reason being: there were SO. MANY. PEOPLE. I was delightfully surprised by the outcome, and the amount of men in the crowds! There were people of all different races, ages, sexual orientations and disabilities, out in Denver on a chilly morning making our voices heard.

The city of Denver expected 40,000 people to come through. As of right now, it’s estimated somewhere around 200,000. We showed up. We made a difference. We sprawled through city, together, peacefully, and proudly. For the first time since election night, I’ve felt hopeful.

Now let’s get down to bitchin’.

Women putting other people down. There are sooooo many examples of this, but here’s a few to get started:

-Women talking shit about another woman's sexual history (IE: She has threesomes on the reg. She must not respect herself.)

-Women outwardly questioning another’s makeup and wardrobe choices (IE: You’re wearing that?)

-Women insulting another female for their life choices (IE: making stay at home moms feel like they’re not politically woke because they chose be at home with their families).

-Women commenting on your breakfast choices (IE: wow, that is A LOT of bacon).

-Women pointing out social interactions (IE: She’s always looking for attention. I feel bad for her).

The list goes on. Why do we do this?

Throughout high school, my weight fluctuated frequently. I had an extra 30-40 pounds on me during my freshman and sophomore year. Stress and an overwhelming sense of low self worth made me overeat. By the end of junior year I was tired of hating my body, and started “dieting” (aka starving myself) to feel pretty. And hey, it worked! Boys started looking at me in ways I wasn’t used to, friends complimented me and encouraged me to “keep it up!”

I was grossly thin. I was always tired. I was obsessed with running for miles, and then stepping onto my bathroom scale right afterwards to see how much weight I’d lost during the run. Yeah. It was messed up.

Enter grandma. She lived next door to me when I was growing up, and was present for most of my childhood. She was a firecracker of a woman who I loved very much. She was also incredibly shallow. To be fair, she grew up during a time where your dress size determined your entire self worth. That mindset was certainly perpetuated onto all of her daughters, and granddaughters.

During the time I was losing weight, she always had a positive comment, and, like my friends, encouraged me to “keep it up!” I would walk over her house after school, you know, for some standard gram time. She greeted me at the door with a full body scan, from the tips of my toes to the top of my head. I knew I looked up to her standards with the first words that came out of her mouth. If I was looking slim, she would say “Carla, you look so beautiful!” as she held the screen door open. If I had a couple extra pounds (which I swear to god, she could pick up on like a hawk) she would grimace and say, “Hello.” The interaction started to stress me out so much that I stopped visiting her solo. I’d only cross the yard when my sister, mom, dad or boyfriend at the time could be the buffer. And go through the door first.

Why do women do this to each other? NY Times puts it eloquently:

We aren’t competing with other women, ultimately, but with ourselves — with how we think of ourselves. For many of us, we look at other women and see, instead, a version of ourselves that is better, prettier, smarter, something more. We don’t see the other woman at all.

(https://www.nytimes.com/2015/11/01/opinion/sunday/why-women-compete-with-each-other.html)

Women have it ROUGH. Like so many other minorities, we’ve have to fight for every single right we have. Life would be a little sweeter if us ladies stopped comparing, judging, belittling each other for our choices. Next time you’re thinking about making a comment that’s meant to knock a woman down a peg, think about where the root of that comment is coming from, and work on those insecurities instead.

NOW LET’S GET TO THE KITCHN’.

Picking Women Up, Not Puddin’ Them Down

Lavender Lemon Pudding with Honey Poached Pears and Candied Lemons

OG recipe from Cafe Johnsonia: http://cafejohnsonia.com/2013/10/lavender-panna-cotta-honey-poached-pears.html

Total time: 1 hour 5 mins // Serves: 6-8

Alright, technically this a recipe for *panna cotta,* but they’re essentially the same thing. Pudding feels less intimidating and in all truth I just couldn’t let go of the name.

This recipe is easy, it just takes time. There’s just a lot of steps, and a good amount of throwin’ shit together. It’s not that bad, I promise!

For lavender lemon pudding:

3 Tablespoons cold water

one package gelatin

1¾ cups heavy cream

1¼ cups whole milk

½ cup sugar

1 teaspoon lavender buds

1 teaspoon vanilla extract (or ½ vanilla bean, scraped)

For honey poached pears:

3 slightly under-ripe pears, cored and peeled, cut into quarters

½ cup water

¼ cup honey

Juice of 1 large lemon

Peel of one large lemon cut into strips (I used a vegetable peeler to create long strips and cut them into thinner strips with a sharp knife)

1 teaspoon lavender buds

1 vanilla bean, split lengthwise down the middle

pinch sea salt

For candied lemon peel:

Reserved poaching liquid, only pears removed

¼ cup granulated sugar or evaporated cane juice

For lavender lemon pudding:

Have ready 6-8 custard cups or ramekins. (You can lightly oil them if you plan on turning them out onto a plate, it helps them release better.) Place the ramekins in a 9- by 13-inch baking dish or on a rimmed baking sheet. Set aside.

Place the cold water in a small bowl and sprinkle the gelatin on top. Let soften for 5-10 minutes.

Meanwhile, combine heavy cream, milk, sugar, and lavender in a medium saucepan. Heat gently, stirring to dissolve sugar, until the mixture just comes to a boil. Remove from heat and add the softened gelatin. Place back on the stove and heat gently until the gelatin is completely dissolved, about 2-3 minutes.

Stir in the vanilla and strain through a fine mesh sieve into a large measuring cup with a spout. Pour about ½ cup of the mixture into the ramekins. (There might be some leftover depending on the size of the ramekins.) Let stand until cooled to room temperature, then cover the ramekins with plastic wrap and place in the fridge for several hours to chill until set.

For honey poached pears:

Place the pears, water, honey, lemon juice and peel. lavender and vanilla bean in a small sauce pan Bring to a simmer and cook until pears are just tender, stirring occasionally and making sure the bottom doesn't burn. (If it does start to burn, the heat is way too high. It should just barely simmer.)

The pears will probably need between 30-45 minutes to properly poach. Check for doneness by inserting the tip of a sharp knife into one of the pears. If it goes in easily, then the pears are done. If not, cook for a few more minutes. Remove the pears and place them in a bowl to cool. Reserve the poaching liquid and other ingredients.

For the candied lemon peel:

Bring the poaching liquid to a boil and then lower the heat a bit and continue cooking until the liquid reduces and become syrupy, an additional 15 minutes or so. Remove the lemon peel from the syrup, letting as much of the syrup drip back into the pan as possible.

Reserve the remaining syrup to use as a sauce when serving. Place the sugar in a shallow bowl and add the lemon peel to the bowl and roll until coated. Set the zest aside to finish cooling. You may need to roll them in the sugar several times. Set them aside until serving time.

To serve:

Either serve the pudding still in the ramekin or carefully loosen it from the mold with a thin knife and turn upside down on a plate. Top with 3-4 pear slices and drizzle with some of the syrup and top with a few strips of candied lemon peel.

Note from the “editor”:

Carla is one of the best people. She’s got it all going on. She has the most beautifully curated Instagram, the best fucking attitude I could ever hope to steal for myself. Follow her if you feel like you need some feel good posts in your social media. I love her. She’s the best.

As a woman, life is already hard. We should spend more time lifting each other up rather than puddin’ each other down just to feel a little more ahead. This goes for everything. The basic lesson in intersectional feminism really. We all can’t get ahead if everyone is pushing everyone else down. It just doesn’t work like that. Getting your own self image and worth to a good point is so damn hard anyway. Ugh. Anyway, Carla, youre beautiful. I love your mind. Reader, You’re beautiful, and I love you for being here.

If you want to write for this blog, just let me know! There are submission guidelines HERE Bitch it to me ladies.

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bitchninthekitchnnn · 7 years

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Inaugural Recipe: Pretzels

THE BITCHIN’

So, it’s really fucking happening. Trump is going to be our new president. Joy. Everything that I could have ever wanted. I feel like the last few weeks during the holidays were so good that I momentarily forgot that this was our future.

There is really so much to say about this whole shebang, but it’s not very different than the rest of what the internet is saying. I’m uncomfortable, disappointed, afraid for my rights and for so many others.

There is only so much wallowing that you can do, though. So many facebook and twitter posts that will make you feel like treading water. No matter how many times you tell your friends how upset you are about the Trumps and what it might mean for the future, you’ll still be in the same spot as you’ve been the entire time. It won’t make you feel any better, and it won’t make as much of a difference as you would want.

What would feel good, is getting out there and volunteering your time to make sure that the things that you believe in have your physical support. They need people, and volunteering never takes up that much time. No matter how busy you are, you can scrounge up a few hours and pay back a little.

HERE ARE SOME SUGGESTIONS:

Black Lives Matter have chapters in every state. Most likely in the same town you live in. If you’re not a POC and want to educate yourself on how to be a better ally, look for SURJ groups in your area.

For women’s rights volunteering, you might be interested in supporting places like Planned Parenthood or something similar. There are other places that are similar to Planned Parenthood’s function if you find them problematic, (which I do,) however, I realize that being the most visible and supported program, I feel like if that institution falls then what chance do the hometown clinics have?

I’ve also been looking at volunteering at the local women’s safe shelter. It’s a heavy place, but somewhere where you can do a lot of good if you’re up for it.

I’d also recommend the first friends (colorado) or NJ/NY (Search your city to find the one closest to you) it’s a really cool program where you can help new immigrants get the services they need, get comfortable in their new country and be more than just a resource. It’s really SUCH a cool program.

My boyfriend, a complete amazing nerd, it upset that there is an anti-intellectual movement happening, so he’s interested in volunteering at museums to help bring more facts and critical thinking to families and children in general.

THERE IS SO MUCH YOU CAN DO

Don’t just share this and not do something about it. Don’t be that person that just shares that something should be done but then doesn't actually participate. It’s so essential that people like you get out into the world and are there for things that you find important.

So while you’re at home drinking away the night because an orange-fucking-cheeto-ass-mess of a brand new president is talking at you, start thinking about what you can do to make the situation better. It’s rough, but we are tough nasty women and kick ass allies that can help to protect what needs protecting.

GO TO THE WOMEN’S MARCH!!

Also- if you're a public radio nerd like me, for your health, just get rid of your radio. Waking up to the sound of trump’s voice is really fucking bad first thing in the morning.

THE RECIPE

EASY AF SOFT PRETZELS

These are really easy. Super simple actually. Bread is my go to anger cooking. Kneading the dough for only three minutes is only a suggestion. If you want a full 30-minute punch fest, these pretzels will turn out just the same. It’s a positive anger management. You’re fucking welcome to the club of anger baking.

INGREDIENTS:

1 and 1/2 cups warm water

1 packet active dry or instant yeast (2 and 1/4 teaspoons)

1 teaspoon salt

1 Tablespoon granulated sugar

3 1/2 C - 4 C all-purpose flour + more for kneading

1 large egg, beaten (for egg wash- not to go in dough)

coarse sea salt for sprinkling on top of the pretzel

DIRECTIONS:

Preheat oven to 425°F.

Dissolve yeast in warm water. Stir with a spoon until fairly mixed. Add salt and sugar; then slowly add 3 cups of flour. Mix until dough is thick. Add 3/4 cup more flour until the dough is no longer sticky. If it is still really sticky, add up to 1/2 cup more. Poke the dough with your finger - if it feels really elastic, it is ready to knead.

Turn the dough out onto a floured surface. Knead the dough for about 3 minutes. Twist out a few sections of dough, I like balls around the size of a tennis ball, but the size of your pretzels are up to you.

Once you have your long rope, take the ends and draw them together so the dough forms a circle. Twist the ends, then bring them towards yourself and press them down into a pretzel shape. Sometimes the ends won't stick- you can use a little water to adhere the ends to the main part.

Bring a large pot of water to boil, (optional: add 1/2 cup baking soda to water.) Place a pretzel onto a large slotted spatula and dip into the boiling water for 20-30 seconds. Any more than that and your pretzels will have a nasty metallic taste. The pretzel will float. Lift the pretzel out of the water, shaking as much water as you can off. Place pretzel onto a baking sheet.

In a small bowl, beat the egg, brush the tops and sprinkle with salt like a meme.

Bake for 10 minutes at 425F degrees. Turn the oven to broil and bake for 5 more minutes to brown the tops. Watch closely to avoid burning

These save pretty well, they tend to get a little hard when they get stale, but stale bread is awesome with a soup... go for it.

I will get better at these posts as we go on- I planned on getting more images and video and drawings and well, everything, but hey, I kinda forgot the world was ending Friday. So at least it’s on time. That’s as good as its going to get for right now.

If you want to contribute, let me know. You can message me, or submit using the form here

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