tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13224436481122053732012-01-26T07:25:45.157-06:00Jessehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14577264539517543916noreply@blogger.comBlogger581100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1322443648112205373.post-11277661823136540592010-06-07T16:19:00.009-05:002010-06-07T16:47:44.836-05:00

I know, it's been forever. It's been ages!! Honestly, it's been so long I wonder if you're still out there. Are you? Are you there?Well, on the off chance you are I want to give you a bit of news and invite you to a party. Yes, a party. With snacks and drinks and good times and good people. A party!So here's the scoop.... I finally left the job at the hotel to pursue my plans of launching my own

Jessehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14577264539517543916noreply@blogger.com28tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1322443648112205373.post-48482868475584536812009-08-03T14:22:00.009-05:002009-08-25T09:40:31.397-05:00

Well folks, cactus pears are in season. I know you've been hemming and hawwing about what to do with the abundance of fruit coming out of your cactus garden. It's your lucky day. I've got you covered.Okay. You weren't thinking that. Most likely you're quite aware that the local cacti are covered in red fruit, but eat it? Um.... hell no? I'm just taking a stab, but is that what you're thinking? I

Jessehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14577264539517543916noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1322443648112205373.post-55315766177050448772009-07-22T16:15:00.009-05:002009-08-04T16:35:39.060-05:00

I have a favorite bread which I suppose in and of itself is not surprising at all. Maybe what may be surprising is what the bread is. It's not a big tangy sour and it's not an earthy grainy wheaty number. In fact, it's not a loaf at all. My favorite bread hands down that I think I could eat quite contentedly without interruption for the rest of my life is man'oushe.If you know what man'oushe is

Jessehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14577264539517543916noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1322443648112205373.post-8850619912283950642009-07-21T12:42:00.012-05:002009-07-22T14:46:37.041-05:00

I don't use pre-made foods and condiments all that often. Perhaps it's the rugged individualist in me, perhaps it's the mad-scientist? Hm. More likely it's my pig-headed belief that not only can I do anything I want to with food, I can do it better. Oh ouch. Now you know my deep dark bratty secret. Please don't leave yet... keep reading. I'm on the road to reform. I've seen the light in the form

Jessehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14577264539517543916noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1322443648112205373.post-64745085115414951232009-07-20T18:52:00.011-05:002009-07-28T17:06:23.737-05:00

I have quite a history of wanting things, wanting things I can't have and when I realize that, I want them even more. Perfectly rational, right?When I was really little I wanted a unicorn. I wanted a unicorn real real bad. I thought about unicorns all the time. I had unicorn calendars, stickers, pins, stuffed animals. You name it. Every single time I threw a penny in the fountain at the mall,

Jessehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14577264539517543916noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1322443648112205373.post-1537308664230316652009-07-14T11:55:00.006-05:002009-07-14T16:45:28.354-05:00

I have a confession to make. I'm not from here. By here, I mean Texas. I mean, I am from here, but by way of Minnesota when I was one and a half. And to Texans, that makes me not from here. People love to comment on my lack of an accent (although quite common in Austin, even for the natives). Growing up in a small town I was a complete anomaly. Jewish, spicy foods were all too spicy, family voted

Jessehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14577264539517543916noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1322443648112205373.post-14357005237970833542009-07-09T17:01:00.011-05:002009-07-10T16:14:56.167-05:00

I generally like my food free of distractions, and by distractions I mean sides. Recently I was speaking to someone about a recipe and this person asked me what I would serve with this particular dish. Huh? I blubbered a little bit, then I huffed and puffed, I mean, who has the time for sides anyway? And then I told her the truth. I really don't like side dishes. Let's break this down a bit,

Jessehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14577264539517543916noreply@blogger.com22tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1322443648112205373.post-88431904054794816202009-07-06T16:16:00.008-05:002009-07-09T16:59:51.902-05:00

So I have a new job. Have I mentioned this yet? Is this old news? Well, at any rate, too bad if it is, because I'm telling you twice, if in fact I have told you once already. This new job is perhaps too good to be true. It's something I stumbled upon with the help of a friend who I can't thank enough.This new job involves food, a kitchen all to myself, a little baking, a lot of cooking, local

Jessehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14577264539517543916noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1322443648112205373.post-45010576919627021422009-07-02T08:59:00.007-05:002009-07-02T11:30:58.889-05:00

Somewhere along the way I convinced myself I don't like sweets. Except chocolate chip cookies, which I'll eat no matter how good, or bad they might be. And by the way, dear Austin bakeries, please make good chocolate chip cookies. Please put a little heart into it. Right now I only buy them at Primizie which A) is not a bakery, and B) I suspect that's the New York Times recipe and it's good, but

Jessehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14577264539517543916noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1322443648112205373.post-13446868505559030242009-06-29T15:50:00.007-05:002009-06-29T17:46:38.373-05:00

So sue me. I'm running my oven and it's 113 degrees outside. Or I'm pretty sure it's 113... no one can seem to agree on the heat index. Let's just put it this way, it's probably too hot for baking. It's certainly the hottest June I've ever lived through. Don't feel sad for me though. A cold front is expected to blow through this evening, leaving it only in the mid-90's. I write this with no

Jessehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14577264539517543916noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1322443648112205373.post-74884142808228859212009-06-25T11:21:00.004-05:002009-06-25T13:15:49.257-05:00

I've taken my sweet time getting back here. It's not for lack of interesting chit chat, that's for certain. I've just needed a break.My last month at school was a bit overwhelming to be sure. Honestly, it had little to do with school, which I loved more and more every day. In fact, by the last week I just kept looking around incredulously, thinking that I wouldn't, and more to the point, couldn't

Jessehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14577264539517543916noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1322443648112205373.post-23260382145540103762009-05-17T20:59:00.008-05:002009-05-18T23:36:08.079-05:00

Wow. I really let things slide didn't I?I honestly did you all a favor. I've been feeling a bit deflated. A bit uninspired on the writing front of late. It's not that the food in my life has been uninspiring, or inspired for that matter, lately. It's been wonderful. I've spent the greater part of most days dreaming up various concoctions to try my newfound skills on. No, there's no lack of

Jessehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14577264539517543916noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1322443648112205373.post-88928558804718489142009-04-26T17:08:00.007-05:002009-04-27T00:00:19.114-05:00

It appears that nothing will draw attention to the perfectionists in a group of people like cake decorating. I'm not talking dollops of frosting and whimsical details whose beauty cannot be objectively described. No, we're talking the whole shebang here... slicing layers, filling and balancing said layers, masking the cake, frosting the cake so it appears to be no more than a hat box coated in

Jessehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14577264539517543916noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1322443648112205373.post-85765186042579832582009-04-16T22:05:00.006-05:002009-04-16T23:32:19.369-05:00

You'll have to forgive my absence. The past three weeks have been an anomalous concert of events. School seems to increasingly exhaust me. I've had more 9pm bedtimes lately than I care to admit. I traveled home for a weekend to visit Mark, my kitties, my friends and family, a few donkeys and one very overgrown yet fruitful garden. I spent another weekend celebrating my birthday. And this weekend?

Jessehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14577264539517543916noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1322443648112205373.post-54457950966394170772009-03-25T23:55:00.012-05:002009-03-29T14:44:16.386-05:00

Pastry school has become quite the eye-opening experience. Not so much about bread and pastry; much more so about myself. Lately school has been one big butter slick, day after day, kilo upon kilo of butter. And guess who doesn't like butter. That is to say, I was under the mistaken impression that I loved butter up until about two weeks ago. However, 30 gazillion calories later I have to admit,

Jessehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14577264539517543916noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1322443648112205373.post-47967169409847126172009-03-11T21:34:00.010-05:002009-03-29T14:44:37.278-05:00

I've been awol. I didn't think it would happen, but I found myself unable to write. You wouldn't be upset about it though if you saw the circles under my eyes (cause I'm tired, yo). And you'd be even less upset about it if you lived here in San Francisco and I was bringing you cakes and pastries and breads every other day. It's made me friends. Yes, that's plural. I have bought myself more than

Jessehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14577264539517543916noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1322443648112205373.post-67716220375911218782009-03-04T16:13:00.008-06:002009-03-07T11:10:43.357-06:00

Tuesday night, at approximately 11:45pm, I scowled at my clock and made a decision. No how, no way was I going to school the following day. It was already two hours past my bedtime, I was wide awake and had no interest in dragging myself to school with no sleep the following day. I toyed instead with the idea of an afternoon pedicure. I flirted with the thought of going to the Ferry Building and

Jessehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14577264539517543916noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1322443648112205373.post-23146912003247984032009-02-25T20:48:00.006-06:002009-02-27T20:36:45.678-06:00

It's happening again. In every home I've lived in, much less stayed at for more than two full weeks, I've stockpiled. I've mentioned my food-hoarding habits here before, the way I channel a Depression-era housewife with every meal I throw together. I make enough food for a small battalion. I store beans, canned goods and pickles at a feverish rate. And I always have bread. I have now lived in

Jessehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14577264539517543916noreply@blogger.com45tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1322443648112205373.post-30241496614763463532009-02-18T22:15:00.009-06:002009-03-29T14:45:05.580-05:00

This week has been a blur. I'm coming to realize that if I'm not careful, all of my weeks out here could become a blur. The days are over before they start. I come home with enough energy to grab a bite and the ubiquitous and, dare I say it, necessary, glass of wine. And then, as my dad always said, I sleep as snug as a bug in a coffee can. I'm trying to punctuate each day with something. An

Jessehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14577264539517543916noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1322443648112205373.post-31323383642731131462009-02-12T21:29:00.006-06:002009-02-16T20:29:18.098-06:00

I'm twiddling my thumbs impatiently while dinner soul-achingly, mind-numbingly, head-splittingly, heart-wrenchingly slowly cooks. You think that sounds dramatic? You should see me and my classmates every day round about 1:30PM draped over our worktables, inadvertently covering ourselves in flour, as we wait for our bread to bake so we can eat lunch already. We're so pathetic. Today, as the pastry

Jessehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14577264539517543916noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1322443648112205373.post-33901848044896701542009-02-07T18:15:00.011-06:002009-03-29T14:45:29.814-05:00

I've tried in a million different ways to get this blog started today, irony being, I've been looking forward all week to sitting still, drinking coffee and writing. But *sigh*, there is simply too too much to take in to write about it all. Blurbs... I'll write in blurbs, and perhaps next blog I'll be able to focus more. 1. School. School is everything I expected and nothing at all like I thought

Jessehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14577264539517543916noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1322443648112205373.post-2644219715745539122009-02-01T17:00:00.009-06:002009-02-02T22:32:48.339-06:00

Here I am. I have arrived.My current and temporary residence is a cute, sensible Arts and Crafts era two story bungalow. The house is divided into apartments - upstairs and downstairs. Me, I am downstairs. My neighborhood is everything I hoped it would be. Or rather, my neighborhood is everything I hope for when I am with cash flow. Currently though, I am without. The restaurants I can't afford

Jessehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14577264539517543916noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1322443648112205373.post-55243760684577028762009-01-28T18:05:00.006-06:002009-01-28T22:38:46.130-06:00

Well this is it. In a few days I head off to San Francisco for pastry school. I'm nervous and excited. I'm wondering what I've gotten myself into, knowing that nothing else would make me as happy and excited and hopeful about my future as this adventure.My sister kindly pointed out today that she still will be deeply mired in her internship when I return. So, in fact, I won't be gone as long as I

Jessehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14577264539517543916noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1322443648112205373.post-37298344731416926042009-01-25T22:06:00.005-06:002009-01-26T18:08:36.593-06:00

Peppers growing in the garden hold poignant and somewhat painful memories for me. It's unfortunate really, being that one of the few things that loves to grow in a Texas summer is the pepper.I blame it all on Axl Rose. I, like many a seventh grader in the late '80's, lived and died by Appetite for Destruction. My best friend and I carefully transcribed every word to every song on that record. I

Jessehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14577264539517543916noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1322443648112205373.post-36567909998543910682009-01-23T15:36:00.009-06:002009-03-29T14:46:01.408-05:00

As the time draws near for me to depart I'm struck by the sudden and deafening urge to ease my nerves in the least practical way. Shopping. Actually, to be more specific, just spending money. It matters very little what I acquire in the exchange of cash, it just matters that I hand my hard earned money over bit by bit by bit. I have trinkets aplenty to show for the mass exodus of cash out of my

Jessehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14577264539517543916noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1322443648112205373.post-73594091145991797792009-01-18T12:14:00.008-06:002009-01-20T07:47:37.284-06:00

I woke up this morning feeling blah. This feeling is completely unjustified being thatA - It's 70 degrees, sunny and mind-blowingly blissful outside.B - I spent yesterday evening at a clothes swap and am now the proud owner of several fantastic new party dresses and one amazing little skirt.C - I have another party to go to tonight that I've been looking forward to for at least an entire 24 hours

Jessehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14577264539517543916noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1322443648112205373.post-72574588275029397592009-01-14T18:06:00.007-06:002009-01-14T20:47:02.582-06:00

I am beyond distraction lately. It's all due to wrapping my head around a short move, trying to cram an ever-expanding to-do list into my daily routine, training my replacement at work and trying to act like everything is normal and I'm not actually beyond distraction.All of this distraction isn't such a bad thing. I've done desperately needed chores such as finally taking the pesky little Tiny

Jessehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14577264539517543916noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1322443648112205373.post-13965758589058281342009-01-11T10:18:00.009-06:002009-03-29T14:46:46.004-05:00

I'm mulling over my cookbooks. I think I will have to leave them all behind when I head West, but I'm creating every excuse not to. I'm comforting myself with reassurances that every recipe I could ever want is online. And quite frankly, I'm not sure that I'll have the energy to cook much while I'm there.These, though, are not reassurances. The internet can never, in my eyes, stand in for a book.

Jessehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14577264539517543916noreply@blogger.com25tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1322443648112205373.post-18440453955693241062009-01-07T14:58:00.011-06:002009-01-07T17:54:46.444-06:00

I still have a month before I leave, but I can’t stop think about my brief and impending move to San Francisco. There are so very many plans plans plans to be made… Who will be in charge of paying the mortgage? Can Mark be trusted to plant the tomato plants I plan on sustaining us through the long, hot, salsa-filled summer? More importantly, will Mark return to his bachelor's diet of nachos and,

Jessehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14577264539517543916noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1322443648112205373.post-404686437527370822009-01-03T14:06:00.016-06:002009-01-06T00:20:19.857-06:00

Another year swept through.... Did you assume I would start today's post with some sort of musing about the passage of time, the inevitability of it all, my excitement about the new year and sadness about the passage of another? Well I guess I sort of did, but now that I think of it, I won't bore you with my sentimental blubbering. How's about I instead entertain you with some random news flashes

Jessehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14577264539517543916noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1322443648112205373.post-59177322554330698492008-12-29T14:28:00.007-06:002008-12-29T22:46:04.722-06:00

I've taken the day off of work. Not because I'm shopping , not because I'm sneaking out to catch a movie, not because anything of interest is happening. I am, in fact, taking the day off of work because I threw out my back last night while sweeping. It's not very noble, not something I'm proud of... however, I would like to point out, I do sweep and that must count for something.So at any rate,

Jessehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14577264539517543916noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1322443648112205373.post-64850354432327664262008-12-27T10:31:00.011-06:002009-03-29T14:47:50.434-05:00

The week between the holidays (those being Christmas and New Year's, respectively) is such an odd time. The streets are quiet, friends are in and out of town, and work... who needs it! Back in college, when I didn't care a whit about the looming specter of my ever-expanding credit card debt, I would use this week to travel. New York was always a favorite destination (snow!!!), but there were

Jessehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14577264539517543916noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1322443648112205373.post-27260470999847315722008-12-21T11:25:00.008-06:002009-03-29T14:48:18.410-05:00

I believe it's happened again. I believe we've just adopted another cat. Every six months or so a kitten traveling on the kitty highway that passes directly through our back yard decides to pull over and temporarily call our home its own. We have two cats already and I'm quite sure they would not be amenable to a new addition to the family, therefore all new kitties must live outdoors. They must

Jessehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14577264539517543916noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1322443648112205373.post-90148574927564675662008-12-17T17:14:00.009-06:002008-12-29T23:17:11.541-06:00

Brownie lovers unite!! Have I got a treat for you... or I could if you're willing to try your luck at a little game of chance. I'm working together with Joel of Lovepuppies Brownies to offer you a chance to win a box of the most unbelievably delicious brownies you may ever taste. That's a pretty serious claim I just made, but I'm willing to go to the mat for it. Joel makes four flavors. Four

Jessehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14577264539517543916noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1322443648112205373.post-35956403374049852832008-12-15T18:55:00.014-06:002009-03-29T14:48:54.376-05:00

There was a time in my life when I doubted the relevance of winter vegetables. It was years ago, before I was concerned with the changing of the seasons or the flavor of ripe tomatoes. Or Russia. I grew up in the central Texas world of summer gardens and insufferable heat. If it wasn't tomato season, then we weren't growing anything. Which is ironic, since things seem to grow better when the heat

Jessehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14577264539517543916noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1322443648112205373.post-66284259134430637712008-12-10T20:23:00.014-06:002009-03-29T14:49:14.892-05:00

I have a terrible time admitting defeat, especially when it involves a very plump, very beautiful and very tasty candied lemon that traveled all the way from Spain to play a supporting role in my holiday gifts. The lemon was intended for this year's batch of Christmas bread, and I'll be damned if that lemon was going to waste. I chose my holiday bread over the summer during my stint at a

Jessehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14577264539517543916noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1322443648112205373.post-4346337694587837952008-12-07T08:55:00.008-06:002009-03-29T14:49:38.968-05:00

It was bound to happen eventually. There was going to be a point in my life where I sent food back at a restaurant. I think it was my first time... I think. I'm generally fairly easygoing about eating out. I'm flexible. I've picked meat out of things, I've had bad mussels, I've had food swimming in salt. But no, I have not sent anything back. Okay, there was the time I sent back a bottle of wine.

Jessehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14577264539517543916noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1322443648112205373.post-31250641871475647462008-12-03T20:50:00.006-06:002008-12-03T22:12:12.344-06:00

Our New Year's Day used to be spent hosting tamale parties. While the rest of the country munched on the requisite black-eyed peas, I was slaving over a few hot cauldrons of tamales. Every year for the last 5 or 6 years we've had all of our friends over for New Year's Day hair of the dog, and, oh yeah, all the tamales you can eat.The days always started the same. I'd open my eyes and say "

Jessehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14577264539517543916noreply@blogger.com24tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1322443648112205373.post-83931383688745312732008-12-01T16:03:00.011-06:002009-03-29T14:50:29.382-05:00

Is it already December????!? How is it that sometimes when the days can feel so long, time in large increments can go tumbling past like weeds. Before I know it I'll be toasting to the New Year. We'll be taking our annual family portraits (meaning Mark and I pose for photos with our lovely kitties), as we do every year upon returning home from ringing in the New Year. And then before I know it,

Jessehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14577264539517543916noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1322443648112205373.post-38955193019824658282008-11-29T10:15:00.009-06:002008-11-29T12:39:44.750-06:00

Thanksgiving has come and gone, and all I have to show for it is some leftover stuffing that I'm portioning out slowly into tiny servings. Because I love it so. Our Thanksgiving is the same every year. I'm in charge of the pies. Mark and I pile everything into the car and head to my parents' house for 12-24 hours of solid eating, after which no one really has room for pies. We put up a brave

Jessehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14577264539517543916noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1322443648112205373.post-669982916430896902008-11-24T16:16:00.007-06:002008-11-29T23:36:30.526-06:00

I've been tagged… and somehow, someway, while telling you 7 random facts about myself (as per the tag requirements), I'm also going to culminate this post in a recipe for a surprisingly wonderful dish I made last week. The surprise is that it has cooked cabbage in it and surprise surprise, cooked cabbage is one of the few vegetables I'm still on the fence about. I had a scarring experience when I

Jessehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14577264539517543916noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1322443648112205373.post-48080171248038599742008-11-20T18:22:00.007-06:002009-03-29T14:51:02.152-05:00

Like most everyone, my mother and I had our fair share of battles over food. I don't think I was an especially finicky eater. I accepted the wheat germ being thrown into our cookie dough. I got over the fact that I had cream cheese and jelly sandwiches on wheat when everyone else's moms gave them bologna and Kraft singles on white. I was even quite fond of all of those things most kids hate...

Jessehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14577264539517543916noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1322443648112205373.post-615501078370202882008-11-18T12:24:00.009-06:002008-11-19T22:52:02.508-06:00

There are only a few times when I'm guaranteed to be an easy sell. Most times I prefer to wander through stores, unencumbered by other people's opinions, poking around, reading labels and generally entirely independent.The times when I am an easy sell?? There are only three. When I'm shopping for jeans, when the salesperson has a strong Southern drawl and right after I've been for a run.Shopping

Jessehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14577264539517543916noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1322443648112205373.post-50630577426391704342008-11-12T16:39:00.010-06:002009-03-29T14:51:29.758-05:00

It's not often that I feel limited by not eating meat. I was, admittedly, a serious carnivore for the first 20 years of my life. To this day I can taste steak when I see it, I dream of nibbling fennel and orange pork sausages with my wine, and most heart wrenching of all is the smell of barbecue. I could easily be convinced to bathe in it. Despite all that hifalutin talk, meat is not something I

Jessehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14577264539517543916noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1322443648112205373.post-26268553832608935642008-11-09T18:02:00.012-06:002009-03-29T14:51:57.818-05:00

Okay, so where did we leave off on the honeymoon story? I believe we were back in Spain. Ahhh, Spain, where the weather was beautiful, my language skills were abysmal and where Mark adopted my rabid shoe lust. Well, Spain came and went far too quickly for me. Not for Mark though, he was counting the seconds until we arrived in London to actually witness his soccer team play, in the flesh.So you

Jessehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14577264539517543916noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1322443648112205373.post-15555435199735253322008-11-05T19:05:00.015-06:002009-03-29T14:52:19.236-05:00

Today is a WONDERFUL day. In honor of our (infinitely wise, incredibly prosaic, level-headed, inspirational and insanely gorgeous) president elect I bring you a sandwich. Don't worry, it's a pretty delicious sandwich.I can't believe it was only a little over a year ago that I was hopping on a plane with my brand spankin' new husband heading overseas for our honeymoon. We actually sort of planned

Jessehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14577264539517543916noreply@blogger.com123tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1322443648112205373.post-79718664504817142122008-11-04T08:35:00.002-06:002008-11-04T08:41:19.119-06:00

and please go vote if you haven't.

Jessehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14577264539517543916noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1322443648112205373.post-19952130745659049532008-11-03T12:53:00.014-06:002008-11-05T22:03:06.963-06:00

I can remember the moment it happened - the moment I realized I have no survival instinct. I was, I think, 12. My parents had invited their friends over for dinner and we were eating on the back porch. Daylight had ebbed away over the time we were eating and we'd neglected to turn on any lights in the house. I grew up in a small town where locking doors is still a "city folk" sort of thing to do,

Jessehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14577264539517543916noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1322443648112205373.post-68341121435687743352008-10-30T18:09:00.012-05:002008-10-31T08:01:59.257-05:00

I'm a goal setter. There I said it. I'm not bragging or anything, because let's be honest, I don't always set the most challenging goals. I did not say I like a challenge. I like to set goals I can accomplish. I like to win... but I'm far too competitive to compete with others. It's ugly ugly stuff. I can't even play cards without cheating. What I mean to say is, I'm so competitive that if I lose

Jessehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14577264539517543916noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1322443648112205373.post-73164708324617073632008-10-27T13:17:00.009-05:002008-10-27T22:12:52.462-05:00

I've reached feverish levels of distraction. It's been going this way for quite some time. I think it's fair to say that the only thing that I can concentrate on lately is food and this little dance with death the economy is engaging in (in that order, naturally). I'm so distracted I haven't even voted yet. True story. But I will be voting before the end of the week. Cross my heart.There's a lot

Jessehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14577264539517543916noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1322443648112205373.post-73683434112469464472008-10-23T21:22:00.008-05:002008-10-23T23:02:21.878-05:00

It's fair to say I can take things a little to far. I have a lifetime history of, shall we say, "chasing my dreams", and before I know it that dream is either a business, or an all-out obsession. As a child I had a lot of animals, so naturally I opened a neighborhood zoo. I passed out fliers to all of my neighbors and then charged people 5 cents for entry. I even offered snacks for the animals...

Jessehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14577264539517543916noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1322443648112205373.post-73303059963184948002008-10-20T13:22:00.001-05:002009-06-25T13:34:59.506-05:00

I have a holy grail and I'm getting closer and closer to finding it. Back in college I spent some time in Italy wallowing in mud. I mean, on an archeological dig. Lots of life-changing experiences happened to me there. I touched things no human had touched in 2500 years. I got to clean dirt off of long forgotten objects in the tiny building where Giotto was born. I was chased, mid-pee in the

Jessehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14577264539517543916noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1322443648112205373.post-73191010406034090272008-10-16T17:25:00.000-05:002008-10-17T16:13:44.533-05:00

I’m so full. The most recent culprit was an almond croissant at the office that I’m pretty sure was meant to be shared. Sorry whoever wanted that other half. It’s now in my belly. Last night it was a soufflé that I actually did share. But I shared the bigger half. And the night before it was a buttery brioche-y onion spiked bread. I go through phases of gluttony that often coincide with my

Jessehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14577264539517543916noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1322443648112205373.post-71663821155595038002008-10-13T12:52:00.000-05:002008-10-13T15:28:09.104-05:00

Last night's dinner was supposed to be pretty solidly homey and predictable fare. No, I'd never made a potato pizza before, but we make pizza, like I mentioned earlier, a lot. I try new crusts almost every time. I'm a wee bit hard to please, something of an Anna Wintour of pizza dough (I'm now thinking I will only be pleased by a sourdough crust... it's in the works!). That being so, I have

Jessehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14577264539517543916noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1322443648112205373.post-48696333783040522942008-10-09T17:21:00.000-05:002008-10-09T20:36:36.154-05:00

It's the time of year where we Texans pretend it's fall. We talk about a slight chill in the air, despite the temperatures that still hover above 90. We shop for sweaters, we squint our eyes really tightly and stare at the trees, imagining we see something close to leaves changing color. And today, at the grocery store someone managed to pipe the smell of apple cider throughout the entire place.

Jessehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14577264539517543916noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1322443648112205373.post-52514652749694472142008-10-06T13:04:00.000-05:002008-10-06T21:57:44.043-05:00

That there cake, I made that for my dad's birthday. Notice the tiny pile of pistachios topping the cake? This cake was merely the culmination of a pistachio filled day for my father. It was completely unintentional, but definitely the by-product of his being the hardest person to shop for on earth. I'm sure I hear cries of dissent somewhere way way out there... people mistakenly thinking their

Jessehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14577264539517543916noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1322443648112205373.post-59501438078158542562008-10-04T15:09:00.001-05:002009-03-29T14:53:04.318-05:00

And I'm not talking politics here people. I'm talking calzones.... those fat steamy delicious pizza-y pockets. My favorite ones are always stuffed with things I'd never think to put on my dainty pizza crusts. Often they're filled with things far too robust and weighty for your run of the mill pizza. I've made a handful of calzones in my short career as head pizza dough maker here in our tiny

Jessehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14577264539517543916noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1322443648112205373.post-26338580959581901732008-09-29T14:34:00.000-05:002008-10-04T15:03:23.340-05:00

Hi there, hello. I'm new to this world of blogging. Strangely I am a registered bonafide (albeit, extremely lazy) poster on several blogs.... but for some reason I still feel very, very new to this world of blogging.So why am I here? A fair question. I'm here because I bake. I'm here because I cook. I'm here because my friends and family need a wee break from me talking their ears off about the

Jessehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14577264539517543916noreply@blogger.com4