I may or may not have had a birthday recently.
I definitely did have a birthday cake.
I know it's not quite a natural progression* to move from a post about sloppy joes to a review of products meant for bathroom cleaning, but I do like to surprise you folks from time to time.
*And though a connection can be made, I think I'll avoid going there...except to say that Kramer's misadventures in this episode of Seinfeld disgust me greatly. It might be the only episode I can't watch over and over again.
As a rule, I'm not crazy about chicken wings. I never order them* and rarely make them. I think it's because they always leave a trail of orange sauce from the corners of your mouth to your fingertips and possibly on all articles of clothing in between (and even those in the next room, too).
There seems to be ample evidence that many of my favorite side dishes could almost double as a dessert--I've posted several that have plain ol' granulated sugar as an ingredient (exhibits A, B, D, M, and R, for starters). I must have a sweet tooth or something.
As I've gotten older and the number of my responsibilities has
exploded grown, I've come to appreciate some things at which I used to turn up my nose. High on that list is takeout (or, even better, delivery) pizza.
I'm not sure how certain recipes are named. Fool? Devils on horseback? Whoopie pies? Dutch baby? Spotted dick? No clue. Another on that list is preacher cookies. I was first introduced to them at my childhood church's monthly fellowship meal, so I like to think that some little old lady made these for her preacher all the time and so they were named thusly.