At every gathering I host, I like to add at least one little detail that will get guests to say, “oh girl, oh no you didn’t!” Infused butters will elicit that remark. They’re that 2.0 moment, the little cherry on top of the sundae, and best of all, you’ll likely have enough leftover to continue spreading all that flavor on subsequent pancakes, morning toast or quick breads long after the party dust has settled.
The simplicity of these no-bake treats makes them an easy, sweet indulgence for a weekend away from a full kitchen arsenal. The simplicity also makes them a healthy option for those times when the ol’ sweet tooth is calling. They’re a near instant gratification without the guilt, and they’re not a far cry from those raw cookie dough bites stolen when Mom wasn’t looking.
In honor of Black History Month, this is my own humble nod of gratitude for the history the black community built and enriched. This is my own nod of gratitude toward the immigrants, who like my grandmother’s family came to America and worked harder than anyone, planting their traditions into American soils. It’s a nod to those who were here long before any of us, who valued the many resources this beautiful chunk of land had to offer.
A letter to my niece, Remi June, to be opened on her 18th birthday: Dear Remi June, They say “you can’t choose your family,” but I was lucky in that I chose yours. I fell for a handsome Urban Farmer with a big heart, deep convictions and one of the best laughs I have ever heard. (I think it comes… Keep Reading
“The Urban Farmer” has a nice ring to it. I saw his eyes light up the first time I referred to him as that in writing- his passion and his future wrapped neatly in one moniker. “Fat Paw” on the other hand… As we nestled into our cozy living room one evening recently, the enormity of his hand caught my… Keep Reading
I hung my head in disgust and shame despite the fresh baked smell of chocolate and peppermint. Every attempt to salvage the ugliness before me had failed. The expensive, pink artisanal marshmallows looked like melted mozzarella- good on a pizza, bad on a brownie, and the chocolate drizzle was more like a chocolate drench, muddying the already mystifying marshmallows. The… Keep Reading
The truck inched around the tight bend of the parking garage. It seemed to have swallowed several other trucks in the process, making each maneuver hinge on the impossible. Valets attempted to corral drivers who wouldn’t be able to handle parking lots on a slow day. Once inside the grocery store, darting from one aisle to the other felt like… Keep Reading
The creeping vine has begun to reveal a bright, blazing red. The blankets linger on the couch in the darkness of the mornings, tossed aside after cuddling in the evening’s chill. Soups and ciders have begun to be appealing again, and the bed has doubled with the thickness of comforters and quilts. It’s fall, but my mind keeps wandering back… Keep Reading
Full disclaimer: I am not a sleep specialist (in fact, I’m about as far away from a sleep specialist as one can be), but I venture to claim there are three main types of exhaustion: the good, the bad and the ugly. The ugly is the deep, bone-numbing exhaustion of sadness, when sleep is a necessity and an escape from reality…. Keep Reading
If teachers, aunts, uncles and even parents can (and do!) have favorite kids, then farmers can most certainly have a favorite fruit of their labors. For the Urban Farmer, I would put my money on the gallon jug of deep amber honey, hard earned with swollen hands and cheeks after suffering the consequences of riled bees. For yours truly, a meager… Keep Reading