This sandwich needs some ‘splainin. “Tropical” is one of those food words that can mean anything from, “it contains tropical ingredients,” to, “I made it while wearing a hula skirt.” This Tropical PB&J is solidly more of the former, mostly because I couldn’t get Sarah to wear the skirt.
I think DuClaw should put a cautionary statement on their beers specifically warning children not to drink them. They have a habit of making the kinds of beverages you’d expect to find on the lower shelves at the grocery store – beers that taste like strawberry Nesquik or coconut macarons. Then there’s one of my personal favorites,…
It was a lazy and sober afternoon on Sunday when I realized that I should, and was actually capable of, doing something productive.
Apricots are in season! Which is completely irrelevant because ours came from a can!
Capital Pride is coming up on Saturday, and we’re preparing by doing what we do best: getting drunk. Only now with rainbows!
Vegan scrapple might appear to be an oxymoron, like “light butter,” or “jumbo shrimp,” or “bipartisan cooperation,” but for us, it makes perfect sense.
Sarah and I were going over potential recipes when I remembered that we haven’t posted a drink in quite some time.
Here’s a riddle for you: what’s soggy and dry at the same time? Low-carb bread.
Last weekend, Sarah and I were escorted to Baltimore Veg Fest by my friend and proper vegan, Constance. (I hear you need to know a vegan to be admitted into vegan events.)
There’s probably nothing Irish about pesto, but there’s probably nothing Irish about green food coloring in Budweiser either, so I’ll take all judgments for this recipe with a grain of salt.