Mmm! Cholesterol jacuzzi.
Yum.
'Smile Time'
A place for Buffistas to discuss, beta and otherwise deal and dish on their non-fan fiction projects.
Mmm! Cholesterol jacuzzi.
Yum.
I burn grilled cheese half the time. And no one (no one, I tell you) can make it the way you get it at a good diner. It must be the build-up of grease on the grill or something.
I can. So can my mother. Scott is learning. He made me one when I was really sick, and it was quite edible. He's grown as a person, I tell ya.
Cindy, that's precisely the way I do it, and it always comes out as if I'm trying to take fat (in the form of Processed Cheese Food) and give it a cholesterol jacuzzi.I use American cheese (or sometime Provolone) but not the cheese food, anymore. It's too rubbery. Getting the right amount of butter is really tricky. I had to do it by feel. It was much easier with margarine. I made plenty of burnt, or overly greasy ones, 'til I got used to it.
I do HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE my electric stove, though. Hate. However, the only option up in this neighborhood is to get a liquid propane tank, if I want a gas stove. They never brought the gas lines up here. I think there was too much ledge for them to bother. I fear my kids would find a way to blow up my house with the propane so conveniently mounted to the outside, though, so I won't. I hope, once we've saved up enough for a new electric stove, that I'll like it at least a little better.
That was Anne, and believe me, I'm making an "ewww" face right now.
(apologising to Amy and Anne)
(sitting in corner with Amy, both of us making "ewww" faces)
I shall say no more about the mayo (even though you can't tell the diff from a sandwich cooked w/ butter).
I have a few ideas for this drabble topic. Must go cogitate.
FWIW, Anne, the next time I make a grilled cheese sammich, I'ma try it your way. Sounds yummy.
Sounds yummy.
la la la la FRIED CHEESE CURDS la la la la.
Oooh, cheese curds!
thinks hard about chasing some down in the local pub
The Heart of the Party
There's soup bubbling on the burner, seven-bean with chicken and lime. There's a silver tray with a paper doily, stacked high with cheese: fontina, gruyere, a cheddar so smokey, it'll break your heart. Pastry. Bread.
Out in the garden, people are being people. They're talking, laughing, drinking. Crystal chatters as people toast; comments float through the kitchen windows. People are mellow, relaxed.
I'm in the kitchen cooking, keeping it coming, keeping it going. There's baked brie en croute; there are gougeres, raspberries tasting of the sun.
That's the secret to never throwing a bad party: how you use the food.
Damn, deb. I just ate and you're making me hungry.
there are gougeres
Oooh, are those the little cheese rolls? If so, I had some at Artesinal in NYC last year, and I nearly climaxed right there at the table.