And he’s got the perfect alfredo sauce recipe for you! It almost makes me want to cook. Almost. Enjoy. *Drools.
So I don’t know about you guys, but I get tired of that jarred tomato sauce pretty quickly. Admittedly, some of them are pretty tasty (I loves me a good vodka cream sauce, especially on gnocchi…Mmmmmm…) Anyways, if you feel like me, maybe you also REALLY love a good alfredo sauce. If you don’t, don’t talk to me. Otherwise, wrap your mind around this:
The Mad Foodie’s Awesome Alfredo Sauce
-1/4 cup Parmesan Cheese
-1/4 cup (1/2 average-sized block) Cream Cheese
-1/4 cup Butter or Margarine
-1/2 cup milk (or cream, if you’re brave)
-Minced garlic (or garlic powder) to taste
– Combine all ingredients in a saucepan over low heat. Stir constantly for 10 minutes or until sauce is smooth.
Did you really think making Alfredo sauce was that easy? I didn’t, until I made this. It’s fast, incredibly simple, and freakin’ delicious. Admittedly, it’s not for you dietary or vegan people. I don’t trust vegans anyway. Don’t make this dish with vegan anything or I will hunt you down and make you pay. Continue reading
When I was a little kid growing up in a very small farm in Southern New Jersey, summers were very simple. They weren’t like the summers that the various Main Line kids I used to babysit have. Because these kids were born to parents with giant, paper calendars in their kitchens that graph out in ink the activities they’ve picked out for the little ones. Soccer. Violin. Reading lessons. Language school. Tap dancing. Ballet. Math camp. Summer camp. Activities, activities, activities. And when I used to babysit, I’d see the kids sigh and shake their heads in a manner too old for their age. They’d go to their parents with pleading eyes. “But I’m tired. Why can’t I just stay home?”
“Oh sweetie, you know you can’t do that! You don’t want to fall behind! Besides, mommy and dad have to work!” Nervous glance in my direction.
“But I’m tired!”
“I know, sweetie, why don’t you go watch your favorite Hannah Montana show, okay? I’ll get you some crackers.”
I always felt for my charges. Mini-adults whose every moment was accounted for. Those were the moments when I stopped being impressed by the mansions, the luxury SUVs and the designer suits…
My summers were a little different. My summers were about chores done early in the morning and late in the evening, so the sun’s rays wouldn’t get you. The chores? Weeding the one-acre garden my mother planted every summer. Sneaking peas and strawberries from the plants, hoping she wasn’t paying attention. She was, but she never minded. Picking hundreds of potato bugs off the potato plants with my cousins and then gleefully flushing them down the toilet. Washing the chickens’ water bowl with the garden hose and filling it with fresh, clean water. And after chores? Continue reading
Today is the last day of my vacation. Ever since I graduated from college two years ago, I have been working five to six days a week. It isn’t out of some sort of sadistic thrill, I suppose I could work less. But I like to stay busy. But for the month of June, I had a gap between jobs, and I found myself with four glorious Saturdays to spend in the city I love.
This isn’t something new. My family isn’t the type for vacations. As kids, I remember us bundled up in mini-vans and hustled to DC. Sometimes NYC. But we were mostly Philadelphians touristing in Philadelphia. I was the one always begging my siblings to take day-trips with me throughout Philadelphia. Alas, they weren’t as adventurous as I was. (Although there was one memorable trip where my little brother and sister and I ended up sneaking into City Hall on a Saturday, met John Street and got invited to a city luncheon. Another story.) Continue reading
I’m not a fashionable gal. I don’t stress over straightening irons or hairdryers (I lost mine a year ago and haven’t missed them.) I wear makeup. When I remember.
If a piece of clothing is comfortable, I’ll wear it. If not – back to the thrift store it goes. But, as the languorous days of summer approach (or have they already come?) a little glamor is called for. Especially if you’re a phillygrrl.
Three things that are more Betty Davis than Ugly Betty?
The aviator glasses. Or as I like to call ’em – the boyfriend sunglasses. (I used to wear the men’s version.) But now they’ve started making women’s aviator glasses. Finally. Why aviators? They’re delicate, not chunky like those Chanel-type sunglasses. So they work with any face. Not just an anorexic/plastic-surgeried one. And they’re metallic (not plastic, ugh). So they match with your jewelry. Plus, you can pretend you’re the female James Bond and be hard-core myterious. It adds a little edge to an otherwise feminine get-up. Continue reading