Friday Fuck Up: Peanut Sauce Doesn’t Look So Good on the Counter

Too much liquid + food processor = Sadness

If there is one liquid my husband and I love, it’s beer.  If there are two: beer and peanut sauce.  We have yet to combine them, but that doesn’t mean we won’t someday. Might be a little thick, but I do love a good shandy now and then.

So, last week, my dear one set out to make a mega-double batch of the good stuff. Peanut sauce, that is.  I was chillin’ with the babe in the other room when all the sudden I hear, “Oh, God.”

Based on recent events, I figured something was on fire, or my darlin’ had cut off part of his finger.  But no, instead I came upon the scene above.

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Friday Fuck Up: Attack of the Three Dairy Smoothie

Look how beautiful and pink that drink is. It’s just gorgeous. I wanted this calcium-filled liquid to taste as good as it looked.  But I think I took it one dairy too far.

Like most weekday breakfasts, this one started simply: a blender, yogurt and frozen strawberries. But I barely had any yogurt left so I reopened the fridge. What else could I throw in this? I spied milk. Of course, milk lends itself perfectly to smoothies. Problem is, well, there are two problems. One, I hate milk and don’t like a lot of it in anything I consume. And two, there wasn’t that much milk left and I wanted to save it for my boyfriend’s cereal. I added a splash, but my smoothie begged for more ingredients. So there it was. The final dairy left in my fridge that I thought was somewhat suitable for drinking: cottage cheese.

Clearly, I was wrong. Cottage cheese consumed the entire smoothie, even covering that signature yogurt tang. I gagged to swallow the pink liquid down my throat.

So let this be a warning: keep your smoothies to a two dairy minimum.

Friday Fuck Up:This Tastes NOTHING Like a Chip


Clearly I was shaken up. Last week I welcomed the news of two engagements of very dear friends. The term “dear friends” is quite obnoxious, I know, but these are like super good friends, well, couples, and I am so excited. That must be the only excuse for this fuck up. Because unlike most other times I open up my oven to face a disaster, I actually followed a recipe.

My friend Hickey, of one of the engaged couples, came to DC from her home in Pennsylvania and I gladly made us dinner. I wasn’t actually sure what to put together but basically I stuffed a lot of crap inside this huge pumpkin-shaped eggplant. It was an elaborate, multi-step experience and while the inside concoction of corn, tomatoes, blended eggplant, ricotta and I forget what else was surely tasty, the outer shell of the eggplant did not cook fully and basically served the function of a ceramic bowl, which is of course not the point of baking food in something edible in the first place.

But that wasn’t even the worst part. Shit, the crappy Cook’s champagne wasn’t even the worst. T’was the kale.

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Friday Fuck Up: The Revenge of Sriracha


Editors Note: One of our favorite fans has a special treat for us. And I just love getting emails with the subject: “i have your friday fuck up for you.” Here is Belmont‘s pumpkin pasta fail. And remember to send us your kitchen disasters

I hate squash.

Actually, that’s not *entirely* true.

I love  all kinds of squash: kabocha, butternut, zucchini, pattypan. I love it in all forms: carpaccio, in a not so nicely named soup, in gratin with goat cheese, with wild rice and leeks as my favorite thanksgiving side. When I ran across this recipe on one of my favorite blogs (I am unrepentantly preppy, and I don’t care if you judge me), I had to try it. Pumpkin and pasta? There is no way this could end poorly!

Yeah, not so much.

I will confess, I made a few substitutions, and not quite the ones mentioned in the blog post. I kept the half and half, because soy milk is for hippies and lactards, and I doubled the garlic. I used sage instead of rosemary, because crispy sage is phenomenal and a classic paring for squash (according to the bible). Plus, it does not poke holes in your gums the way rosemary does. You know that stuff is basically a pine tree, right?

I also confess that I didn’t have any hot pepper flakes (absolution: I was not in my kitchen, where I am amply stocked) and decided to substitute sriracha, because it is awesome. Finally, no white wine vinegar, but there was some balsamic, so I used that instead. I also used whole wheat pasta, because I think it’s a nice contrast in rich pasta dishes, like this one consisting of cheese, squash, and cream, so I think it qualified.

The result?

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Friday Fuck Ups: The Illusive Fried Shrimp Head


A funny thing happened a few weeks back. And I have to say I’m still a little shocked I’m actually saying this, but credit where credit is due.  A few Sundays back, Food Network actually did something that kinda blew my mind.

As much trash talk as I dish out on Food Network programming, this new show of theirs, The Best Thing I Ever Ate is pretty damn good. It probably also helped that the episode I caught just happened to be the Best Fried food tribute. I’m sure there are other lovely categories, but an entire show dedicated to the wondrous variety of fried foods is without question one of FN’s better attempts to win over viewers.

It was Duff’s obsession with the apparently abundant but never advertised part of an animal we rarely think about eating: shrimp heads. Fried shrimp heads. A whole basket of them! I knew immediately that I had to learn how to make these little delicacies.  And that’s pretty much when everything starts to go down hill…

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Friday Fuck Up: Soup and Salad Combination From Hell


It’s been a long time. In fact, so long that I thought we’ve moved past the horrors of inedible food. But just as we neared Halloween, I got the shit scared out of me. I made something so foul, so ugly, so smelly, all I could do was photograph it and make something else for dinner.

Because I refuse to let go of summer, I bought about 6 tomatoes at the farmers market. I could have embraced the new cold weather and its bounty of orange hued goodness, but if there’s tomatoes out—I’m buying. MISTAKE.

After a week on my dining room table I finally got around to putting them to use. Cutting away the rotten parts, I chopped the tomatoes and dropped them in a pan with a shallot and 5 minced cloves of garlic. I had already made a quick, and quite delicious, Ten Minute Tomato Soup, so with the last tomatoes until June 2010, I wanted to create something different.

Conveniently decomposing in my fridge was a 3/4 eaten salad from Chop’t. Usually salads can not be saved, with the dressing making its components soggy. But I thought, maybe if I buzz this spinach salad around in a food processor I can stir it into some baked egg dish. Yea. That’s it.

Except that would be way too normal. Well, normal for me. While the tomatoes were simmering, I blended my salad. It wasn’t until after I added it into the soup that I realized this was a remarably terrible idea. Let me tell you what was in that salad.

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Friday Fuck Ups: Attack of the Batter


I have no idea why, but my sister always brings out the baking in me. I guess it’s because it’s a lot harder to ship fettuccine alfredo than a chocolate goodie. (SAG – don’t be mad, but you were in Italy over your birthday so I’m pretty sure anything I sent you would have been poop comparatively.) We all know by now that it isn’t my strong point. I feel like that old relative that tells the SAME STORY every time you see her. Yes, Gansie endeavored to bake and then it got fucked up. Well, if you want to hear that same ole song again, listen up, deary.

Sherry loves white chocolate, so for her 22nd birthday I wanted to send her a homemade something featuring white chocolate. I thought about cookies again but then stumbled upon a Nigella Lawson recipe from How to be a Domestic Goddess: White Chocolate and Macadamia Brownies. Fuck nuts in brownies. I don’t want multi-textural elements in my dessert – I want smooth, fudgy goodness. So instead of nuts I subbed in regular chocolate chips. Besides that SLIGHT change, I followed the recipe PERFECTLY. I read it over many, many times before even starting. I even remembered to let the butter rise to room temperature.

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