Tastes like Christmas
My kitchen made out like a bandit this Christmas. It feels oddly unmanly when the two presents you're happiest about are both pans. Not to mention the next place going to a nice Pyrex set.
I've now entered a feedback loop where more cooking made me want more/better cooking stuff, which when acquired led to wanting to cook more, which is slowly leading to wanting even more cooking supplies. It's a delicious circle.
And today I wrung some details out of my mom for my grandma's gravy and then synthesized that with this recipe to get a gravy that I've been wanting for a while now. To be clear, this is something that I've only ever had at my grandma's house (since it is definitely not American style) who only served it at Thanksgiving and Christmas. Keep in mind that she's been dead for over a decade and the last Christmas she hosted was probably at least 5 years before her demise. It turns out if you put something in your mouth that your body has been craving for 15 years, your brain is cut out of the loop as various parts of you commence to do a happy dance. Yum ♥
Having satisfied the Hungarian in me, I then somehow managed to take a recipe I've made before (and enjoyed as is) and Midwest-ified it to the point that it no longer qualifies as pizza. I can't even call it casserole and will instead have to go with hotdish. I'm not even certain how I made the transition but it smells delicious at least...
My spell checker doesn't think hotdish is a word. Clearly it was not raised in the Midwest.
I've now entered a feedback loop where more cooking made me want more/better cooking stuff, which when acquired led to wanting to cook more, which is slowly leading to wanting even more cooking supplies. It's a delicious circle.
And today I wrung some details out of my mom for my grandma's gravy and then synthesized that with this recipe to get a gravy that I've been wanting for a while now. To be clear, this is something that I've only ever had at my grandma's house (since it is definitely not American style) who only served it at Thanksgiving and Christmas. Keep in mind that she's been dead for over a decade and the last Christmas she hosted was probably at least 5 years before her demise. It turns out if you put something in your mouth that your body has been craving for 15 years, your brain is cut out of the loop as various parts of you commence to do a happy dance. Yum ♥
Having satisfied the Hungarian in me, I then somehow managed to take a recipe I've made before (and enjoyed as is) and Midwest-ified it to the point that it no longer qualifies as pizza. I can't even call it casserole and will instead have to go with hotdish. I'm not even certain how I made the transition but it smells delicious at least...
My spell checker doesn't think hotdish is a word. Clearly it was not raised in the Midwest.