Smokin' Peeps, Smokin' Peeps

Thanks to my neighbor LJ, I discovered this highly scientific site with experiments done by some Emory students who clearly need more homework. (Dude, she said *high*)
I laughed out loud.
Smokin' Peeps. Ha!

Coffee Crisis!

Sweet Lord, I believe my espresso machine has died! Whatever shall I do, dear reader, where ever shall I go? Two days ago it heated up when I flicked the switch, but when I turned the knob to 'caffè'
nothing happened!

And yesterday morning, I flicked the switch: nothing. It didn't even heat up. Eeeeek! I don't know what to do. How can I enjoy my coffee love each morning?
I was forced to make do with this little cutie

imported from Italy, I've had it for years. I even took it camping once; over the fire it took forever (and I was hung over, ouch), but on a gas stove it quickly turns out a lovely, airy espresso. But what if that one breaks?

Hmm, I'd probably be forced to use my Froggy French Press,
which actually makes a tasty pot of coffee. The flavor is very clean and the pressing part is fun every time (simple pleasures, friends).



Of course I could probably get by with my little black coffee pot:
or my big white pot:

(You notice both of those are in far away cabinets? We see which method of coffee preparation brews the worst cup!)

Though in the end, I suppose I could simply open up my new espresso machine!

It's not as good a machine as my beloved Krups, but (true story) it was a gift from Barbara Fairchild, editor in chief of Bon Appétit. I think she wanted it out of her car's trunk, and I was the one standing closest.
I just hope I can figure out a way to have my latté tomorrow morning!
sigh I believe this is what we'd call a "quality problem" :)

Happy Spring!

I celebrated Easter (named after the Anglo-Saxon Goddess of Dawn, Eastre) by having my friend Ruth over for brunch. Because in my heart is a magical 7-year-old girl, we also dyed Easter eggs. Here are mine:


I enjoy making art that serves no purpose. The last month and a half I've been in achieve-mode, not a state I recommend. It's exhausting. Sunday was truly a day of rest, what a treat to eat homemade waffles with sliced strawberries, drink lavendar tea, zone out with pretty colors and hang with one of my peeps... heck, I even ate some Peeps. But not Ruth.

And I like eggs, they're an innately hopeful food. Eggs symbolize the promise of new life, purity and innocence, and an elegant dinner in about three minutes (omelet, anyone?). I can get into that holiday.

Food Just Tastes Better in SoCal

Look at the latest wonders from my Cooking Club's Greek Feast:

(That's my roasted cauliflower hummus in the middle there, lord it was lovely.)
What I'd like to point out to my readers elsewhere in the country is that this photo was taken outside. In March. Do you see the gentle sunshine? The comfy lawn chairs? Every time I miss living with seasons, the ebb and flow of nature that reminds me time is moving, I remember if I were almost anywhere else I'd be shivering and forced to wear a hat (which I hate, too many winter hats forced on me as a child).
Eating food in the sunshine makes it taste better, and in LA we can do it most days of the year. Not that I'm trying to convince you to move to LA... but look at the flatbread Nina made (from scratch! bakers amaze me) that we grilled:

Tell me this isn't the good life here~ I don't know how I got so lucky. Join me, friends. It's a big table.