danapop

Although I’m not a football person, I do know the Superbowl is this weekend. Which means you need something fattening and ridiculously delicious to eat, right? And preferably something loaded with a fair amount of cheese. Easy there, Paula Deen. Since it is a special occasion, I have just the thing for you courtesy of one of my oldest friends in the whole world, Linda.

I’ve known Linda since we were about 12, which is quite the feat since I come from a military family and we moved around a fair amount. From our start in seventh grade at East Junior High, I eagerly wanted to be friends with the cool girl with clear braces wearing the Benetton jacket. And I’m so glad we were (and still are). Through the years, she’s done everything from helping me master the dance to Marky Marky and the Funky Bunch’s “Good Vibrations” for cheerleading tryouts at the end of our junior year of high school, to driving an hour out of the way to meet me for a much needed break during my mom’s recovery from her stem cell transplant last year … the gurl shows up.

This past holiday Linda and her husband hosted my husband and me alongside another dear friend (the one responsible for the recipe found here) and her husband for what ended up as a fun night down memory lane with all of us laughing so hard we were crying. Oh, and Linda also served this amazing spinach artichoke dip that she whipped up from scratch. Thankfully I wasn’t left alone in a room with this fabulous casserole of goodness. That would’ve been dangerous. It’s perfect for this weekend’s worth of yelling at the television.

1 pack cream cheese
2 cups mozzarella cheese
1/2 cup Parmesan cheese
about 4 cloves of fresh garlic (food processor)
a lot of fresh basil (food processor)
salt
pepper
1 bag of fresh spinach torn in pieces
2 small cans of artichoke hearts (or 1 regular size) (food processor)

Mix everything together in the Kitchen Aid then bake in oven at 350° for about 30 minutes. Serve with pita or tortilla chips, crusty bread or crackers.

I grew up in a house outfitted with a popcorn machine. To say my parents’ taste in home furnishing is eclectic is an understatement. In the same room as the aforementioned popcorn machine sits a barbershop chair, a pinball machine (which is not the only one in the house), and a motorcycle hanging from the exposed walnut beams on the ceiling. Yes, you read that right.

It was a wonderful way to grow up, but the best part—my parents actually popped popcorn all the time in that machine. And when the popcorn got dry and stale, my mom would whip up caramel corn. Her recipe for caramel corn is delicious; the molasses gives it a nice complex flavor, similar to Cracker Jack (which is what she calls it).

My mother’s version generally omits the nuts because they made my brother gag, so none of us got them, but feel free to add (as she mentions, “You may add peanuts.”). She, of course, had gallon-sized bags of it waiting for us to gorge on over the holidays. Also, I left the recipe word for word via my mother because I just love how at the end of the recipe she writes, “Bag it and watch it go!” I feel like I’m eating a bit of home with each kernel.

Jeanie’s Cracker Jack
¼ cup honey
¼ cup molasses
¼ cup butter
16 cups popcorn

Heat honey, molasses and butter in a saucepan until blended. Pour over popcorn in a big bowl. Mix well so that all is coated. Then, put in a shallow cookie pan. Bake at 350° for 10 minutes, stirring several times while baking. You may add peanuts. Bag it and watch it go! Made with love … MOM.

Image: Courtesy of glamour.com

Years ago, I remember reading the “Engagement Chicken” article in Glamour magazine. It circulated for a while among my single girlfriends. Do you recall? It was a simple recipe for a roasted chicken with lemon and herbs, and upon making it, many women were later proposed to by the respective consumers of that gorgeous meal. The recipe (and article) can be found here.

It got me thinking about those recipes we pull out when we’re trying to impress. These are meals that set the bar a bit higher than others, but that doesn’t mean they require 15 kitchen gadgets to make. Most often, I’ve found the dishes that appear gussied up really are just simple ways of cooking. In this season of holiday madness and loads of kitchen time that’ll happen between now and New Years Day, here are some of my takes on special meals—most of which require very little effort, except good, high quality ingredients to make memorable bites.

One of my favorite desserts is when my sister-in-law bakes her individual little molten lava cakes. There’s just something so beautifully decadent as the rich chocolate oozes out of individual cakes the second it’s punctured with a spoon. You can find the recipe here.

I’ve been on a mussel kick lately. Which means that everywhere I go, if it’s on the menu, it’s my order. Steamed mussels really are a cinch to make, so I’ve heard. Before 2012, I’d like to attempt the ones here. I mean, it doesn’t get any better than a broth composed of garlic, shallots, butter, herbs and wine all waiting for sweet mussels to take the stage.

According to my husband, his sweet grandmother (who I wish I could’ve met) made a very special beef braciole with egg this time of year. I’d like to make him this showstopping recipe here, no matter the season.

Mussels, chocolate, braciole, a few simple ingredients, plenty of friends and family to share it with, is there anything better?

I suppose a proposal.

Our wedding reception. Wearing my second dress for the night and token bunny ears.

For those of you married, do you ever dream of what you’d do differently if you had the opportunity to plan your wedding all over again? I was never one of those girls who dreamed out my wedding day for hours on end. To be honest, I’m still surprised myself that I met the love of my life when I was 26—I would’ve predicted a much older encounter. At any rate, I love the way my husband tells it as something like me strutting across the CNN newsroom and him checking out the goods squeezed into skinny jeans. To which I pulled the trump card several months later, the ol’ I’m too tipsy to drive home, we’d better go back to your place. Well played. By both of us.

But, I would do it differently. My wedding, that is. We got married October 18, 2003 and planning was stressful and I was a nightmare to be around, I’ll admit. For starters, I’d maybe not handle everything in the wedding department as an afterthought, since I was planning it with my mother four states away just after Shock and Awe began in Iraq, and well, I didn’t give two-you-know-whats about chair covers, dress alterations, and programs then. At that time I was making sure producers on our show’s team were getting outfitted with flack jackets and I was working 12 hour shifts for months on end. But, boy I care now.

I certainly would’ve created a drink for the cocktail hour. Maybe two, one for each of us, each D, a his and hers version of something lovely to sip on during a fall evening while we, the bride and bridegroom, posed for photos. And the drinks would’ve had a meaningful name, representing both the occasion and us. For the gents, it’d certainly include bourbon, since it’s my husband’s drink of choice, mine something varying off a Pimm’s Cup, since that and vodka tonics are generally the only two cocktails I order.

Here’s what we would’ve, should’ve riffed on for our cocktail hour. Two drinks—we’ll name them the Dahlia and the DSD Old-Fashioned respectively. It was either those names or else our drinks would be called Baghdad and Tight Jeans, and since the occasion included extended family in attendance and a small town in Kansas hosting, I thought names with our monogrammed initials and a pretty flower sounded a bit more respectable. I’m certain my Grammy and mother would agree.

Cin cin to (almost) 8 years.

Dahlia (a.k.a. Tight Jeans)
Recipe from the Napolean House in New Orleans
• Fill a tall 12 oz glass with ice and add 1 1/4 oz. Pimm’s #1 and 3 oz lemonade
• Top with 7up
• Garnish with cucumber

DSD Old-Fashioned (a.k.a. Baghdad)
Recipe adapted from Esquire
• 1 sugar cube
• 3 dashes Angostura bitters
• Club soda
• 2 ounces bourbon

Place the sugar cube (or 1/2 teaspoon loose sugar) in an Old-Fashioned glass. Wet it down with 2 or 3 dashes of Angostura bitters and a short splash of water or club soda. Crush the sugar with a wooden muddler. Rotate the glass so that the sugar grains and bitters give it a lining. Add a large ice cube. Pour in the  bourbon. Serve with a stirring rod.

My husband’s birthday was on Sunday and I surprised him with an iPad 2. It’s a splurge, but considering he’s the last of anyone he knows that works in television to have one (so I heard), I’d say he earned it. We spent the idea of his perfect day pouring over “The New York Times” while drinking coffee and watching Manchester United play.

He really doesn’t ask for much, even when it comes to his birthday dinner, it’s all quite simple. For my birthday I want a restaurant that’s symbolic, which translates as a meal that’s likely expensive, requires a reservation, and is stretched out over several courses. For three years running, we went here for his birthday. I think there were a couple of celebrations here, and there was a memorable meal here, after which neither of us could move for hours from eating so much. This year we went here—I think you can see the trend he’s got going on.

Preparing a birthday cake for this man is a response to the same request year after year. It varies between two cakes (well, one’s a cake, the other not so much). The first, his most requested—red velvet. I use the recipe here, from Smitten Kitchen and it’s labor intensive, but totally worth it since it’s the one time of year I make it; it always seems special and like fall. The other is my mother-in-law’s recipe for chocolate chip cheesecake. I hadn’t made this one in years after a storm that jinxed this recipe about six years ago.

When we lived in our first apartment, the power would go out at the slightest hint of a raindrop. All the time. For days on end. But, oddly, it was only our street, our exact two-block radius in Midtown. I made the cheesecake on a Thursday afternoon for his birthday that Saturday, and wouldn’t you know it, a hard storm hit Atlanta and we lost power until Monday morning. I’ll be darned if he didn’t keep that fridge shut for those four days with threats of breaking sculls at Georgia Power if that cheesecake was ruined.

So we sat with forks, like that episode of “Friends” when Chandler and Rachel are fighting over the last slice, and man was that cheesecake good. I’ve decided to share it with you. Birthday candles and plates optional.

Chocolate Chip Cheesecake

Ingredients
1 ½ cups finely crushed creme filled chocolate sandwich cookies (about 18 Oreos)
¼ cup melted butter
3 (8 oz.) packages of cream cheese, softened
1 (14 oz) can of sweetened condensed milk
3 eggs
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
1 cup mini chocolate chips
1 teaspoon flour

Instructions
Preheat oven to 300°F. Combine cookie crumbs and butter; pat firmly on bottom of a 9” spring form pan. In large mixing bowl, beat cheese until fluffy. Add evaporated milk, beat until smooth. Add eggs and vanilla, mix well.

In a small bowl toss together ½ cup of chocolate chips with the flour to coat; stir into cheese mixture. Pour into prepared pan. Sprinkle remaining chips evenly over top.

Bake one hour or until cake springs back when lightly touched. Cool to room temperature. Chill. Remove side of pan. Garnish as desired. Refrigerate leftovers.

Like most cities across the country, Atlanta is hot in August. It’s summertime, folks, and that means scorching days, which in my house translates as,  I don’t want to be stuck in the kitchen stirring a pot of something over an open flame for hours (actually that wouldn’t happen, no matter the season).

Besides a ton of grilling that occurs at our house this time of year, my favorite go-to meal that requires very little effort is quiche. Growing up I couldn’t grasp what quiche meant, as it always held a double entendre. My father, when my twin sister and I would play with our Barbie dolls, would tell us that Ken was a quiche eater. We’d laugh and insist that he wasn’t, not knowing at the time he was implying that Ken most likely didn’t want to date Barbie, but, perhaps a fellow named Bart would’ve been more his type. I assure you, my father was not as closed-minded as this statement would seem, but instead of making me ask what was wrong with Ken, it begged the question, what was wrong with quiche?

Quiche has become one of my weeknight staples of late. The French do many things right with this dish—it’s versatile with the time of day it’s served, as well as, what happens to fill within the bounds of the pastry crust—it’s limitless (and an excellent vegetable and cheese bin cleanout).

I’m the sort of person who even when it’s 95° outside, will sit in front of the television wearing wool socks and a sweatshirt under a blanket, so I don’t mind the slow and low time it takes to bake one of these gems, as most recipes do take a bit of oven time to cook. I just check every 15 minutes or so, let cool the rest of the day, and serve at room temperature that night.

When I’m feeling particularly ambitious, I’ll make my own crust. If not, I buy a pre-made one at the farmers market that is just as good. Epicurious has several recipes with fantastic combinations (mushroom and Fontina or ham, leek, and three cheese) if you need suggestions. Mine is pretty basic—just four or five eggs, a bit of milk (yes, I know, I use skim instead of cream, which is very un-French) and whatever is in the meat, vegetable, or cheese drawer, all baked around 325° for about 45 minutes. The one I made this past week used rosemary, parsley, and a tomato from our garden with spinach, and goat cheese. Add simple greens and a glass of wine and it’s a meal filling enough for both Barbie and Ken—respective partners included.

Right now I’m up to my elbows in both tomatoes and peaches. The first, because I planted four different varieties in our garden this past spring and they are just beginning to turn from pale green into a vibrant red relatively at the same speed (minus the one shining star ready for picking). The second, the peaches, because I bought a half peck in south Georgia en route to Atlanta from Florida.

I’ve thought of all sorts of things to do with both … there’s a tomato jam recipe (here) that I’d like to try, and the peaches will be good in just about anything (an oat-crusted crumble, piled on top of homemade vanilla ice cream). But, I keep coming back to the caprese. The simple Italian insalata trifecta of sliced tomatoes, basil, and buffalo mozzarella drizzled with good olive oil, a pinch of salt and pepper—perfection.

I’m certain I could eat this daily for a great length of time for lunch or dinner and never tire. Then, I stumbled upon a recipe (here) for peach caprese, and well, wow!

Wishing I would’ve bought another peck.

My in-laws visited us last month for Easter, and they brought with them a bottle of Limoncello from Italy. I’ve always had a strong relationship with anything citrus, specifically lemon … scented hand soap, or accompanying seafood and vinaigrettes; I love this fruit in all its freshness and burst of happiness. It is a happy thing, isn’t it? And quite in your face about it too, I might add.

Limoncello is a no-brainer because it’s all that, plus, I can fully support a recipe that only calls for a mere handful of ingredients, especially when one of those happens to be vodka, yes sir. I used a recipe from Giada, found here, but the herb addition is all mine. I wish the oregano inclusion was because I’m just that creative, but to say my garden at the moment is overrun with it is an understatement. The infusion of this earthy herb was done more out necessity than anything else since the rosemary, mint, and basil are getting jealous of its abundance and planning a turf war revolt along the lines of no pesto for you this summer.

It all worked out well; oregano floating around drunk in a pool of lemony goodness, now, that’s cin-cin toast-worthy, and a much better fate than a screaming match with parsley.

Writer’s note–I intentionally left out the finished product image.  The nicest way to put it … Limoncello can pass for a sample Lohan and Sheen have to randomly provide their parole officers. It’s delicious, but unfortunately not at all photo friendly.

When a meal ends I generally cap off the occasion with a glass of wine or coffee. I’m not a huge dessert person, but there are several treats I go gaga for … coconut, carrot and red velvet cake, to name three, well, maybe I am a sweets person. But, the dessert I adore above all others is Key Lime Pie. Tart, tangy, creamy, cool, and generally reserved for sun-scorcher days or ordering in a somewhat tropical place. I love everything about this pie including that it screams spring to me with its pale yellow hue topped in white clouds of whipped heavy cream.

I remember making it as a teenager at my parents’ house in Kansas, it seemed so exotic, and even though I could never find key limes, a bottled variety found at the commissary could curb my cravings. It’s pretty obvious I’m not terribly picky when it comes to this pie, as I’ve even been known to eat the basic supermarket variety. I’d never made it from scratch including the buttery graham cracker crust, but I decided to do just that this past weekend. This treat requires ridiculously few ingredients and is relatively easy to make, to which the recipe found here will attest.

Springtime in Atlanta is in full bloom and I’m thinking this will become just the thing to officially kick off the warm weather season at our house.

I was going to write a piece this week about good fortune foods. The spread on New Years Day laid out with promises of abundant wealth, health, and prosperity in 2011. You know, Southerners have the ritual of Hoppin’ John, that I swear by. No joke, I made this exact recipe a week before my husband got his job offer this past summer because I thought, “Hell, it can’t hurt and we’ve gotta eat, forget that it’s June.” And by gosh, within a month he was a badge-wearing employee again with a direct deposit paycheck that arrives every two weeks. So, start soaking those field peas.

I make Hoppin’ John the way my mom makes Mississippi Caviar—a relish laced with black eyed peas piled on crackers every January 1. Italians have chiacchiere, gorgeous pillows of pasta-fried dough drizzled in honey, and in many parts of Spain it’s custom to eat exactly twelve grapes at the stroke of midnight. I was going to explore the ancient cultural and religious significance behind these foods and their relevance in modern times. Sounds fascinating, doesn’t it?

But, I got buried in writing deadlines, shopping, cooking, wrapping, traveling, and so, well, eff it … basically take your pick at eating pork, fried dough, cakes and breads (possibly with a coin baked inside, or nuts, or dried fruits), herring, cod, soba noodles, black eye peas, or collards, and call it a year brimming with possibility.

Instead of this well-researched gem of a piece, will a cocktail recipe do? What’s ringing in the New Year without a little booze, after all? And I particularly like the walk of shame this drink recipe is alluding to, I mean–what’s New Year’s Eve without a bad decision?

Here’s to 2011!

Redhead in Bed
Adapted from Food & Wine
Makes 10 drinks

3 pounds strawberries, hulled and coarsely chopped (use frozen this time of year)
2/3 cup sugar
1/2 cup plus 2 tablespoons citrus vodka
1/4 cup fresh lime juice
Ice
1/3 cup chilled Riesling

In a bowl, toss the strawberries with the sugar and let stand, stirring occationally, until the strawberries release their juices, about 10 minutes.

In a blender, combine half each of the strawberries and their juices, the vodka and lime juice with 1 cup of the ice and puree. Pour into a pitcher. Repeat with the remaining strawberries and juices, vodka and lime juice and 1 more cup of ice. Fill 10 Collins glasses halfway with ice. Pour the drink into the glasses, top each with ½ tablespoon of Riesling and serve.

The cupcake trend is officially over. Finished. Dunzo. Here to take its place … the whoopie pie. I keep seeing recipes for these suckers. My top two reasons why:

1. One could call them rustic, which loosely translated means they don’t require the skill set of Martha Stewart and a gazillion kitchen tools to make. Sweet, creamy filling piled between two soft cookie-ish pillows trump stale cupcakes any day of the week.

2. People like saying the word “whoopie.” And like it with the word “pie.” It doesn’t hurt that it looks and tastes like a revved up Oreo (sans the lard-laden vanilla filling).

At any rate, my lovely sister-in-law made these for us at a holiday party she hosted, and everyone gobbled them up. Her version had chocolate cookies and a vanilla filling that she rolled in peppermint. They are tasty, simple to whip up, and will be an instant nostalgic hit in your dessert repertoire.

Classic Chocolate Whoopie
1 2/3 cups all-purpose flour
2/3 cup unsweetened cocoa powder
1 ½ teaspoons baking soda
½ teaspoon salt
4 tablespoons unsalted butter, at room temperature
4 tablespoons vegetable shortening
1 cup (packed) dark brown sugar
1 large egg
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 cup milk

Position a rack in the center of the over and preheat the oven to 375° F. Line two baking sheets with parchment paper.

Sift together the flour, cocoa powder, baking soda, and salt onto a sheet of waxed paper. In the work bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, beat together the butter, shortening, and brown sugar on low speed until just combined. Increase the speed to medium and beat until fluffy and smooth, about 3 minutes. Add the egg and vanilla and beat for another 2 minutes.

Add half of the flour mixture and half of the milk to the batter and beat on low until just incorporated. Scrape down the sides of the bowl. Add the remaining flour mixture and ½ cup milk and beat until completely combined.

Using a spoon, drop about 1 tablespoon of batter onto one of the prepared baking sheets and repeat, spacing them at least 2 inches apart. Bake one sheet at a time for about 10 minutes each, or until the pies spring back when pressed gently. Remove from the oven and let the cakes cool on the sheet for about 5 minutes before transferring them to a rack to cool completely.

Makes about 48 two-inch cakes.

Classic Marshmallow Filling
1 ½ cups Marshmallow Fluff (or other prepared marshmallow cream, which will do in a pinch)
1 ¼ cups vegetable shortening
1 cup confectioners’ sugar
1 tablespoon vanilla extract

In the work bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, beat together the Marshmallow Fluff and the vegetable shortening, starting on low and increasing to medium speed until the mixture is smooth and fluffy, about 3 minutes. Reduce mixer speed to low, add the confectioners’ sugar and the vanilla, and beat until incorporated. Increase mixer speed to medium and beat until fluffy, about 3 minutes more.

Growing up, my family didn’t have many holiday traditions. I can remember two—opening one gift each on Christmas Eve, and an annual Thanksgiving morning competition to decide which team has dish duty (the year of the pinball tournament was the best). But I can’t remember food ones that stuck year in and year out. Some years my mom would bake her holly cake—a jelly-rolled number shaped like a log with frosting spruced up with mint extract, and decorated with jellied gummies that she’d cut into leaf shapes—we loved it. Or some years she’d make candies like fudge or use cup molds for caramels and peanut butter meltaways.

Like most traditions, ours just sort of happen once and then are requested year after year. But most are labors of love, entailing loads of stress (I get that the turkey stuffed inside a duck was fun one year, but maybe it’s just a one-time deal?). In my family’s case, my guess is that there were so many of us kids that the recipe requests varied, and my mother tried her best to appease us all. Maybe that’ll be my story once we have children too, but the first year I was married I stumbled on Paula Deen (I think) making peppermint bark on television and have been making it each December since.

The thing with peppermint bark is that it’s everywhere—Target, Williams Sonoma, department stores—everywhere. Which totally surprises me, because it’s the most embarrassingly simple thing to make. I riffed off Deen’s basic recipe and made it into something I could actually tell people about—even two glasses of wine in. You’ll see what I mean below. At any rate, it’s a favorite around our house. This year I’ll package it in sleek tins, nest in pretty tissue, and make labels to give the bark as gifts. Or I might do them Donna Hay style and put them in metallic cups for individual little treats. Either way, it’s a holiday staple we cannot live without, and a tradition not worth stressing over.

Peppermint Bark
• 2 bars high quality white chocolate or a 11-12 oz. bag of chips
• 2 bars high quality dark chocolate (honestly use any combo you want, if you like milk use it, semi-sweet, done) or a 12 oz. bag of chips
• Peppermint extract
• 1 peppermint stick (I like to use the really fat sticks rather than tiny canes—the pattern is prettier and you’re not stuck unwrapping cellophane for an hour).

Line a cookie sheet with parchment paper. In a plastic baggie, crush peppermint stick with meat mallet (this part is really fun). Set aside.

In a microwavable bowl or a double burner, melt dark chocolate (if using bowl/microwave method do at 50% power). Once at a silky consistency, add a couple splashes of peppermint extract. Stir.

Spread dark chocolate mixture over parchment paper. Pop in freezer while you do the exact same thing to the white chocolate mixture (melting, adding extract). Let cool slightly. Before you pour over the bottom layer, make sure it’s hard enough to take the top layer of chocolate. Working quickly as to not melt together, spread the white chocolate and top with crushed peppermint.

Put in freezer for about 1 hour (until really hard). Flip the parchment paper over and break into pieces. Can be stored in freezer, fridge, or room temperature in an airtight container for about a week.

Courtesy of Tina Rupp

Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday. My birthday falls around it and most years I’m surrounded by dear friends and family, which is pretty perfect. But, really, birthday or not, it’s about the food, isn’t it? At our house, we’re traditional all the way, but sometimes I want sides that aren’t so rich. Several years ago I started making an asparagus salad that I found in an old Food & Wine magazine that has become one of our staples. I like that the fennel dressing can be made in advance, same for toasting the walnuts, so day of, it’s just blanching asparagus and assembling. It doesn’t get simpler than this; save the fussy for the cornbread stuffing.

Asparagus Salad with Toasted Walnuts and Goat Cheese
6 servings

1 cup walnut halves (4 ounces)
½ teaspoon fennel seeds
2 pounds medium asparagus
¼ cup extra-virgin olive oil
1 ½ tablespoons sherry vinegar
1 large scallion, white and light green parts only, very finely chopped
1 tablespoon chopped tarragon
1 tablespoon chopped mint
salt and freshly ground pepper
4 ounces crumbled goat cheese

1. Preheat the oven to 350°. Spread the walnuts on a small baking sheet and bake them for 8 minutes, or until lightly toasted. Transfer to a plate to cool, then break in half.

2. Meanwhile, in a small skillet, toast the fennel seeds over moderately high heat until fragrant and golden, about 20 seconds. Transfer to a work surface and let cool, then finely chop.

3. Pour ½ inch of water into a large pot fitted with a large steamer basket and bring to a boil. Discard the tough ends from the asparagus and add the spears to the steamer; cover and steam over high heat until just tender, about 4 minutes. Transfer to paper towels and pat dry. Let cool to room temperature, then cut on the diagonal into 2-inch lengths.

4. Meanwhile, in a large bowl, whisk the olive oil with the vinegar, scallion, tarragon, mint and chopped fennel seeds. Season with salt and pepper.

5. Add the asparagus and walnuts to the bowl and toss. Add the goat cheese. Season with salt and pepper, transfer to plates and serve.

My dad’s mom, Grandma Mary, used to drink one beer every July 4. And just that day. If memory serves, I think she said something about it being patriotic to drink a beer out of a can.

So, every year around this time I picture her and that beer. This year, I’ve spruced it up a bit with my version of how a beer should taste–The Shandy. It’s a ginger beer-based cocktail that originated in Britain in the mid 19th century. Which is ironically very un-patriotic of me, but I’m not one to overanalyze my cocktails.

Thankfully this drink, adapted from an old Gourmet magazine recipe, uses mint because my garden is overfilled with it at the moment. It also strays from the ginger-beer, calling for a good pale ale. In any case, this the most refreshing way to watch those fireworks while you ooh and ah.

ingredients
1 cup sugar
3 cups water
four 3-inch strips lemon zest, removed with a vegetable peeler
1 cup fresh lemon juice
2 fresh mint sprigs
chilled beer, I’m partial to Sweetwater 420 extra pale ale

preparation
In a small saucepan bring sugar and 1 cup water to a boil, stirring until sugar is dissolved, and stir in zest. Cool sugar syrup to room temperature.

Transfer syrup to a small pitcher and stir in remaining 2 cups water, lemon juice, and mint. Chill lemonade until cold. (make about 4 ½ cups lemonade).

Pour ¼ cup lemonade, or to taste, into each of 4 chilled beer glasses and top off with beer.

Photo Courtesy of 'Real Simple'

Crack Brownies. That’s what we call them at my house. But, when I first stumbled across the recipe in Real Simple a few years ago, they were just called ‘Peanut Butter Cup Brownies.’

Who knew they’d be so addictive, so amazing, and quite possibly the best brownie I’d ever laid my greedy little hands on? Well, they are.

I’ve taken them to tennis matches and watched grown women who live for sportsmanship and love to rattle on about proper manners basically want to knock each other out for the last one. I’ve seen whole trays devoured in one Netflix movie showing. And I’ve witnessed things I cannot even write about (it involves someone with zero patience eating them semi-raw).

Those are stories for another time … right now though, I’m at my sister’s in Toledo taking care of my niece and nephew. They are both giving me a hand in mixing up my next batch of crack.

Wrapped in parchment paper and tied with a pretty ribbon, Crack Brownies make the perfect Mother’s Day gift. Well, at least that’s what my sister is getting from her children since Aunt Dana is the queen of multitasking and combined a kiddo activity into gifts and something she could write about.

*dp note*
Do not make the mistake of looking up the calorie/fat content online. You don’t even want to know the answer.

Peanut Butter Cup Brownies
A.K.A. Crack Brownies

Hands-On Time: 15m
Total Time: 50m

Ingredients
2 sticks unsalted butter, plus more for the pan
8 ounces bittersweet chocolate, chopped
4 large eggs
3 cups sugar
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
1 ½ cups all-purpose flour
kosher salt
8 large peanut butter cups, cut into pieces

Directions
1. Heat oven to 400° F.
2. Melt the butter and chocolate in a pan over low heat.
3. Using a mixer, beat the eggs and sugar until pale yellow and fluffy. Lower speed and pour in the melted chocolate and vanilla. Mix in the flour and ¼ teaspoon salt. Fold in the peanut butter cups.
4. Scrape into a buttered 9-by-13-inch baking dish. Bake until the tip of a knife comes out clean, about 35 minutes.