I’m Weirdly Proud of my Grown Up Taste Buds

I don’t like butternut squash. Haven’t since I was a kid. I couldn’t even be tempted with the whole toasted-marshmallows-on-top trick that my mom tried to pull when it wasn’t even Thanksgiving just to make her kids eat some damn squash. There have been a (very) few exceptions–most notably, a butternut squash soup my sister-in-law made for Thanksgiving one year (which blew my mind and made me hesitantly approach the …gourd? going forward). I have a pretty decent recipe for maple-roasted squash, and I did try sneaking some into a mac’n’cheese dish once. I’m still not crazy about butternut squash and prefer to avoid it when possible.

Pivot:
The other day, my husband is listing out what he’s just picked up from the grocery store that we could make for dinner: “some more veggie burgers, tofu for that one dish, raviolis, soyrizo that you love…” and I’m thinking about the doctor’s appointment I have after work and how lovely it will be to get home and cook up those tasty ravs so fast.

I get home, and he’s telling me about his day and I’m like “time-out, lets get those raviolis cookin! What kind did you get? Butternut squash?”

PAUSE.

Backstory:
My husband and I play a little game whenever we go to Trader Joe’s and look at their raviolis. He always says “butternut squash ravioli! you love that, right?” and I say some variation of *puke emoji* and tell him I’ll try literally any other ravioli “flavor” just not that one.

RESUME.

Guys, guess wtf kind of ravioli is in my fridge? Butternut-freakin-Squash Ravioli.

My husband’s exact words: “I thought you love butternut squash ravioli?? Whoops! I can’t ever remember whether you love it or hate it.”

To be fair, there are things I can’t remember for MYSELF that he has to remind me of. I do not like blood orange flavoring. Or mango salsa. Or pumpkin anything that isn’t bread or pie (or *maybe* beer–damn’t, that’s one of the things I need him to remember for me, do I love or hate pumpkin beer??). I love the IDEA of these things, which means I always forget I do not enjoy their actual tastes. So he can be forgiven for having a confusing food associated with me. There are a lot of them.

 

Oh yeah, all of that is to say, I tossed those ravs with some butter, oregano, pinch of salt, dash of turmeric, topped with fresh ground pepper and shaved Parmesan cheese and holy moly they were really freakin’ good! I’m adding this to my “I’m an adult now” palette, right alongside the stouts and porters I’ve been enjoying lately out of the blue.

 

Advertisements

Mom Knows Best

I’m a sucker for those Buzzfeed lists of tumblr posts and tweets. When the title is something like “20 tweets guaranteed to make you laugh,” I’ve gotta click on it and see just how funny this article is (or is not). Usually, I’m surprised if one or two make me laugh — and I have to share it myself if most of them do.

I really like the ones collecting tweets about adulthood or marriage or being a woman. But the inspiration for this post came from a comment on one list of adulthood posts. A woman said her kids always text her asking how to do stuff, and she wonders why they don’t just Google the answer. Don’t they realize she’s just Googling it herself?

My mom says the same thing to me. It would take the same amount of time (or less) to type the question into Google than into a text, and the answer would probably be faster and more accurate.

I can’t say why my first instinct when faced with something I don’t know is to ask my parents, but I think it’s kind of beautiful. In this technological age where Google settles fact-based discussions far too early and the need to logic out an answer for oneself is practically non-existent, kids still think of their parents as the be-all, end-all in terms of wisdom.

Sure, sometimes it’s because there was a specific way I remember my mom doing something when I was little, or a certain home remedy she had. Sometimes it’s something my dad tried to teach me a dozen times, so it’s practically a joke at this point to say “hey dad, I’m trying to do X, which tool should I use again?”

But a lot of the time, something will come up and immediately I’m grateful to have a wise adult in my life to run the question by. Even if it’s something like “the right way to boil a hotdog”, I know my mom will have the answer. Now that I’m older, I’m figuring out that parents don’t have all the answers — like most adults, they’re just winging it and hoping no one catches on. Still, I like that there’s still something magical about parenthood that makes kids reach for their phones and ask Mom or Dad before even considering Google.

Adult Milkshake

Every so often, it hits me that I’m an adult. Yes, I go through my life acknowledging I’m a grown up with bills and a job and responsibility and all that boring adult-stuff. But once in a while, I remember being an adult means I’m my own boss.

Last night, I really wanted ice cream when I got home. And I racked my brain for quick dinner recipes I could throw together that would make it acceptable for me to then have dessert.

Then I remembered: I’m an adult. I can have ice cream for dinner if I want.

Also, my husband was at a work happy hour and would likely want actual dinner when he arrived home. So basically, I was just killing time with a little ice cream.

The only real problem was the ice cream we currently have is sub-par flavor-wise. It was a sad day when I combed through the ice cream aisle at the grocery store only to find all the flavors and brands acceptable to both my husband and me (my husband will only eat ice cream from cartons that have the plastic seal on the outside and remember, I had that mouth surgery so I can’t have anything with nuts or super chewy chunks yet) were covered in a layer of frost. And I wasn’t trying to eat crunchy, freezer-burnt ice cream.

Did you know Yuengling makes ice cream? Me neither, until I saw the cartons at Harris Teeter. Apparently they started selling ice cream to keep their family business afloat during Prohibition. And they are ah-mazing at making ice cream. They should be even better known for their mint chocolate chip than they are for their beer.

So, I was at Giant (it’s slightly more convenient to stop here on my drive home from work than the Teeter) about to tearfully give up on my ice cream quest, when I spotted a 2 for $3 pint deal for none other than Yuengling ice cream. I was so pumped. In that moment, it didn’t matter that the only flavors were root beer float and black & tan. I grabbed one of each and went on my merry way.

Of course I got home and thought w-t-f, why would anyone want ice cream flavored like the delicious beverage it can help create? That’s pure laziness. I was ashamed of myself. At least the black & tan is a chocolate-caramel swirl.

Obviously, I still tried it. I mean, it’s still ice cream. And root beer floats are possibly my favorite way to enjoy ice cream.

I’ll say this for Yuengling: their ice cream is dope no matter how weird the flavor. Still *highly* recommend them.

My husband is a traditionalist when it comes to ice cream. He’s not into “birthday cake” flavor or “strawberry cheesecake” and he felt the same about “root beer float.” So it’s up to me to finish that bad boy. And I mean, it’s good, but it’s not eat-an-entire-pint-in-one-sitting-good. (Also, I try to follow the serving size. I might have two servings in a night if I’m feeling particularly feisty–or adult-y–but I try).

A lot of things came together last night to make for a pretty delicious concoction on my part. I had the weird ice cream flavor. I had a hankering for cold, creamy goodness. My husband was at a happy hour. I wanted my hour to be happy, too. The obvious conclusion: add some alcohol.

I love butterscotch. My husband does not. If I’d known that this winter, I wouldn’t have bought such a large bottle of butterscotch schnapps for my hot buttered rum recipe. But I didn’t, so I did, and now we have a ton of the stuff. I figured it couldn’t hurt anything tossing a splash of it over my two heaping scoops of root beer ice cream and half-cup of milk. And while I was adding liquor anyway, might as well throw in some vodka to give it a real adult-kick.

This ended up being a little too much liquid, so I dug out the last of our freezer-burnt chocolate ice cream, avoiding the biggest ice crystals, and got a big enough scoop to mix in and bring the consistency back to a nice, thick milkshake.

The improvised recipe is below, but if you’ve ever made a milkshake by stirring your ice cream till it’s super soft, you can handle making a drink like this. Unless you’re not 21, in which case get out of here and come back when you’re old enough to complain about not getting carded.

img_0683
Adult Milkshake – Root Beer Float

  • About 2-3 big scoops of Yuengling Root Beer Float flavored ice cream (we don’t have an ice cream scooper. It was lost sometime around when we moved just before the wedding, and I haven’t gotten around to replacing it, so we use regular spoons. It makes gauging scoop-sizes difficult, but otherwise works fine)
  • Enough milk to cover 3/4 of the scoops in a glass (~1/2 cup)
  • Splash of butterscotch schnapps
  • Shot of vodka (we use Tito’s)
  • 1 scoop chocolate ice cream

Stir the 3 scoops ice cream with the milk until it reaches desired consistency. Add the alcohol and stir immediately to mix well. Stir in chocolate ice cream until smooth and enjoy.