roasted pumpkin seeds

As a little girl, I loved scary stories.

In retrospect, I think it all started with a book of ghost stories my friend, Jenny, smuggled in to our kindergarten classroom.  The cover had a black-and-white sketch of a ghoul with hollow eyes, and inside was a story about a woman whose head was kept on with a thin, satin ribbon (spoiler alert: her head falls off when her husband undoes her ribbon one night after she’s fallen asleep).

At home, the supernatural kick continued thanks to my Dad, the consummate story teller.  He’d regale me with legends about ghosts that haunted local homes, and I’d listen happily and then go to bed without a second thought about things that go bump in the night.

And then I grew up.  And started watching the news.  And quickly learned that, uh, scary stuff isn’t as implausible as it once seemed.

Today, I am a total wimp.  I cannot for the life of me watch scary movies.  Just listening to The Walking Dead as I avert my eyes and read a book gives me chills.  And don’t get me started on those shows where “real life” people talk about their experiences with the “spirit world.”  The Unsolved Mysteries theme song alone can keep me up all night.

I have officially gone from the girl who embraced all the creepiness that Halloween had to offer to a woman that prefers Young Frankenstein to The Shining and Shaun of the Dead to Silence of the Lambs.

Nowadays, the only redeeming parts about Halloween are the kiddies in their cute costumes and the pumpkin carving.  I can always get behind some pumpkin carving.  And, of course, the resulting snack of roasted pumpkin seeds.

So after Nate and I finished carving the pumpkin last night (Nate chose the “Portal” theme), I laid the seeds out to dry on a baking sheet covered in parchment paper.

This afternoon, I drizzled two tablespoons of melted butter over top of the seeds, then sprinkled them with two tablespoons of granulated sugar and a 1/4 teaspoon of cinnamon.

Fifteen minutes later, I had a tray of roasted pumpkin seeds that tasted like crunchy bits of caramel-coated popcorn.  YUM.

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!!!

baked bananas

I look ridiculous when I trip.

I know this because I tripped in front of a mirror today.

A mirror in the ladies’ bathroom at my job.  Not awkward at all.

What do I look like?  Well, it happened pretty fast, so I didn’t get a great look.  What I can tell you is that my eyes bug out, my arms flail, and my legs resemble overcooked spaghetti noodles.

Cute, I know.

I guess I shouldn’t be too ashamed.  I mean, I’ve had way more awkward experiences in a ladies’ bathroom than tripping in front of my coworkers.  One time, I had a colleague actually search me out in the restroom because someone “was on the phone for me.”  Uh, take a message?

Another time, I had tucked the entire tail end of my skirt into my tights.  I noticed right as I stepped outside of the bathroom, so none of my coworkers saw me.  Unfortunately, after situating myself, I quickly realized there had been a security camera pointed in my general direction the entire time.  I couldn’t look at our building’s  guards in the eye from that day forward.

But you know what isn’t awkward?  This dessert.  (Best transition ever, I know.)

These baked bananas (courtesy of Skinnytaste) are low fat/low carb, so they’ve got that trendy thing going for it.  Plus, they’re all natural, which I’m told is big these days.  But most importantly, they’re totally yummy.  Like a healthy bananas foster.

You could, of course, make it a *little* less healthy with a giant scoop of vanilla ice cream.  And maybe a drizzle of caramel.  Oh, and just a dollop of whipped cream.  Because the proven way to beat awkwardness is with a sugar coma.  Trust me.  I’m an expert.

cake of the month, part 5: bourbon-soaked dark chocolate bundt cake

When I was little, Halloween was a day I looked forward to all year.  As early as April, I would begin planning my costume, giddy with the endless possibilities.

I guess you could say that the Halloween addiction started young.  I was a jockey for my very first Halloween, and I wasn’t even one yet.  I assume I was planning that costume in utero.  Then I was a clown (this was before Stephen King’s It made it to the big screen–there were no clown costumes after that), followed by a pirate (complete with a Mrs. Potato Head hoop earring on one ear), a black cat, and a princess.

If you’re counting, that’s five costumes.  Five costumes that I have warm, fuzzy memories of.  If this were a line chart, that fifth costume would’ve been my apex.  My peak.  Because from ages 6 on, I have had nothing but disappointment in the form of slapshod get-ups that always *seemed* like a great idea until the final execution (which, sadly, was always five minutes before I was supposed to meet friends to go trick-or-treating, totally negating the ability to come up with a new costume).

There was a gypsy that got me a lot of, “So your a homeless woman?” from the parents handing out candy.  Then there was a “movie star,” which elicited a simple, “What ARE you, little girl?”

Even my more “successful” lame costumes had their issues.  I chose to be a witch on the windiest, coldest Halloween night Maryland had seen in a hundred years.  Which meant my billowy black dress was covered in a giant down jacket, and my pointy hat AND long, black wig blew off and into a nearby cow pasture just minutes after leaving my house.  Essentially, I was a frowning kid carrying around a straw broom.

And yet, even with all of these set backs, I still really look forward to Halloween.  I don’t dress up any more, but I do decorate our porch with a giant cotton cobweb and orange lights, and put a witch silhouette in out guest room window.  I also officially dive in to my fall baking kick, which started with this Bourbon-Soaked Dark Chocolate Bundt Cake via Orangette.

I’m not really a bourbon drinker, but I absolutely loved the combination of the bourbon and the dark chocolate–separate they are good, but together, they are warm and wonderful, like a big, heavy blanket on a chilly Fall night.  Better still, the recipe is easy to follow and the cake tastes better the second day, which means you can make it the night before and serve it with confidence the following evening.

And if the following evening happens to be Halloween, you will have a chance to redeem any unfortunate costume choices you make (like Nancy from Sid and Nancy…minus Sid.  Yes.  I’ve been there.)

Check out the other Cakes of the Month!

June

July

August

September

crock pot pasta sauce with turkey sausage

My shopping lists always contain a random (and sometimes bizarre) assortment of items.  If you were to find it sitting out on my coffee table, you would think I was listing items in the room or “things that are small”, or that I had misplaced my Scategories score card.

Don’t believe me? Take yesterday’s list for example:

• Skinny jeans
• Cat litter
• Marshmallow fluff
• Gum
• Car wax
• Turkey sausage

Seriously.

Now, to be fair, I do a lot of shopping at Target, where one can procure all of these items in the same place.  But still.  Crazy.  I mean, if I found my list shoved between the seats in the Metro, I would be sure that a serial killer had recently sat in my spot, plotting some terrible, creepy act.

In my defense, though, I needed all of those items.  Especially the turkey sausage, so that I could make yet another delicious dinner from Skinny Taste.

Enter Crock Pot Pasta Sauce with Turkey Sausage.   There are five (FIVE!) ingredients in this dinner, people.  That’s it.  Five.  And it cooks itself (essentially).  Save 20 minutes in the morning to get it going, and then let ‘er ride until dinner time.  It’s that simple.

Nate kindly got this started for us this morning, and when I walked in the door this evening, it was like opening a portal to Nonna’s kitchen and being told to pull up a chair, dinner’s ready!  Except that I’m Greek/German/Welsh, so I don’t have a Nonna…

Details.  Just make this dinner, mkay?

banana nut bread

I feel like I’ve learned a lot from advice columnists.  So much, in fact, that I’m pretty sure I’ve earned some sort of online degree from the University of Self-Help and am now certified to solve the problems of men and women across the land.

So even though it took me years to fully realize my Doctorate of Psyche Exploring, I’ve decided to share the wealth and offer you some general bits of wisdom that will likely solve all of your problems and make you a new, unencumbered man or woman.

1. If you are asked to be a bridesmaid in your friend’s wedding, and you have to take out a loan to pay for the dress, the bachelorette party, the plane tickets to the destination wedding, and the bride’s mortgage, just say no.  Otherwise you’ll be broke and hate your now ex-friend.
2. If you meet a guy/girl who is instantly over-the-top charming, be wary: normal people don’t run around acting like James Bond or his female equivalent (Jamie?).  Mr./Ms. Cassanova is very likely hiding some very significant skeletons in the closet, like a secret family, an obsession with cross-dressing, or the fact that they are 38 and still living with their mother.
3. If your significant other wears a black mask, is always sneaking around in the night, and is frequently caught pawing through your trash, you may be dating a professional burglar or a raccoon.

If you aren’t careful, these things could happen to you.

Another bit of advice: make this banana nut bread.  Sure, it’s way healthier than your average banana nut bread, but it’s also way more delicious.  I mean, it’s genuinely, significantly yummier than most banana nut breads I’ve come across (and believe me when I say that I’m a bit of a connoisseur).  Best of all, the recipe makes two loaves.  So eat one now, and wrap the other in saran and aluminum foil to eat later.  Doctor’s orders.

shrimp fried rice

For the past week, I’ve been in training.  And while I like the change of pace and the opportunity to learn something new, I always seem to find that, though my fellow students are all in their 30s and above, they seem to revert to the roles I’m positive they played as paste-eating six year olds in the classroom decades ago.

These roles can be broken down into the following annoying categories:

-The Class Clown: From the moment you sit down at 8 am until the minute you leave at 4:30, the Class Clown is cracking wise.  The problem, of course, is that the Clown is rarely funny.  Though, to be fair, a class on real property isn’t exactly a comedic gold mine.

-The Know-it-All: “Oo, oo, I know the answer, teacher, I know!”  The oft-heard cry of the Know-it-All.  The one thing the Know-it-All doesn’t seem to understand?  That almost everyone else also knows the answer, but feels that the question is so elementary, it’s practically rhetorical.  The K-i-A proves that you’re never too old to want to dip the tip of someone’s ponytail  in glue.

-The Rebel: Rolls in late, may or may not return after lunch, sits in the back. Will probably fail the test, but doesn’t care–the Rebel will be here again next week, since the Rebel’s boss can’t stand the sight of him/her.

-Mr./Ms. Kumbaya: Mr./Ms. Kumbaya makes friends instantly with the people he/she will know for five days.  Kumbaya arranges group lunches and coffee breaks and asks everyone for their email addresses so they can “keep in touch.”  It’s best to give this person a fake email address, preferably a very long one with an expletive hidden within.

-The Stage Whisperer:  The Whisperer talks incessantly in their version of a whisper, which is somehow always loud enough to be heard by the entire class.  And though their comments often have to do with the material, they are completely disruptive and beyond annoying.  The Stage Whisperer always ends up sitting next to me.

-The Space Cadet:  Finally, the Space Cadet.  Easily distracted by things like shiny objects and sudden noises (the HVAC turning on and off is a jarring hourly event), the Cadet will raise his/her hand to ask or answer a question, and will then ramble incoherently for two or three minutes before the teacher decides it’s time to rein in the crazy.

After a week in class, I find it’s best to embrace the foods I find most comforting.  This week, it was Shrimp Fried Rice from Annie’s Eats.

The recipe is simple.  The ingredients are common.  The process is repetitious and the result is yummy in my tummy.  It will remind you of fun nights in college, balancing plastic bowls of Chinese food in your lap while talking with friends into the wee hours of the morning.  It will remind you of moving into your first place, when you sat on boxes of books and ate with plastic utensils.  It’ll be Chinese food bliss, and you won’t even have to scrounge up change for the delivery guy.  That’s what I call a great meal.

chicken enchiladas

For many years, I was suspicious of any dinner served in a 13 x 9 pan.

I know it’s ridiculous.  But a girl can only eat so many meals with names like Tuna Surprise and Hamburger Dee-lite before she looks sideways at the ubiquitous Pyrex baking dish making its way from the oven to the dinner table.

It’s not that these dinners didn’t taste good, because they did.  But they only ever came in shades of brown and beige, and were composed of mostly indiscernible parts (except for the ever-present crumbled potato chip topping).

I’m older now, and a little bit wiser, and I’m no longer pan-shy.  I’ve made a lot of delicious dinners in a single Pyrex, most recently this wonderful and healthy recipe for Chicken Enchiladas from my new go-to blog, Skinny Taste.

Now, this recipe isn’t healthy because you use tofu cheese, sprouts instead of chicken, or flattened discs of butternut squash as tortillas.  Those substitutions would fall under cruel and unusual punishment, and you didn’t do anything to deserve such heinous treatment (unless you eat pizza with a fork and knife–then you had it coming).  No, the key with this recipe is portion control.  Less calorie-packed (but still very flavorful) enchiladas mean jeans that still fit, skirts that still zip, and the continued ability to see your toes.

The only note I would make about this recipe is that if you love heat (as in, spicy heat), then go with the full serving of chilis in adobo sauce.  If you feel so-so about your mouth being on fire, go with half.  And if you hate spice, just leave it out all together.  Believe me–a little bit of the stuff goes a very long way.