It takes a LOT of coffee to fuel big dreams, and my cookbook was no exception. Fun fact: I put the finishing touches on my manuscript while caffeinating at the Commonplace Coffee in Pittsburgh's Squirrel Hill neighborhood, which is why I’m excited to partner with them on a giveaway.
I don't toss around superlatives like "game-changing" often, so believe me when I say this chocolate avocado frosting is worth trying. The almond-flour, avocado cake is so rich, creamy, moist, and chocolaty, I made it twice - once to celebrate my birthday in Florida and once to celebrate my birthday at a wintry cabin in Pennsylvania (I'm big on birthday celebrations).
This rosy brunch, a precursor to the COVID crisis, was a celebration of a few of the female bonds in my life. It was a celebration of what makes each of us unique and a celebration of what we share. It was my effort to look at my calendar, and my photos, and my posts to see if my values matched my life. Was I defining myself with work, or was I making time to foster relationships? Was I taking action, or was I falsely relying on "someday" and "sometime?"
I wanted my Valentine to know he is "simply the best," and while I may not be able to sing and strum the song like Patrick, I can say it in chocolate. Thanks to fellow devoted fans on Etsy and time in the kitchen creating these chocolate peanut butter roses, I conveyed that message with a very Schitty Valentine, which of course, you could turn into an any-time-of-year care package for the Schitty's Creek fan in your life. <3
I have found my new Bible, so I can't help but proselytize. I have been so wholeheartedly recommending and repeatedly quoting "The Art of Gathering" to my "pod," I'll have provided the thorough CliffsNotes before they turn their first page. So... why do we gather?
If someone told me a few years ago, "Relationships take work," I probably unintentionally rolled my eyes. Then I probably [intentionally?] shot tonal daggers from my hazel irises at this brilliant interlocutor. All these snarky eye rolls implied, "Ok genius, but I am a worker. I can even be an obsessive worker. Some have been so bold as to call me a workaholic, so why, why, WHY could I not seem to work on, or for, or in my relationship?" No one seemed to have a handy guide for that work. No one offered the faintest clues as to what that work looked like. It was an interview without a job description, so I went on my own freakin' journey, one wrought with plenty of pain, mistakes, mourning, and a fair bit of baking.