Dreamy Buttermilk Garlic Mashed Potatoes
In my nearly twenty-six years of life, I’ve learned a few important lessons. I’ve learned to pay my cable bill on time, because a night without Internet is like a night without oxygen. I’ve learned to kiss up to your boss, because even if they’re an asshole, they hold your immediate future in their hands. But most importantly, I’ve learned that mashed potatoes are the most important food in the world, and deserve our utmost respect and benevolence. What’s a holiday table without a platter of fluffy mashed potatoes? It’s blasphemy. In my opinion, they’re the perfect complement to any special dinner. Any meal really.
Absolutely Easy Pizza Dough
Pizza. It’s one of those universal things that everyone just loves. In my opinion, anyone who doesn’t at least like pizza cannot be trusted. There’s melty cheese and warm crispy bread and sauce- like what is there not to love? And then there’s the utter accessibility. You can order a pizza and have it delivered to you as you drink a couple glasses of wine and watch love affairs gone wrong on the ID channel. No drinking and driving. It just comes to you. It’s just so convenient.
But one snowy day, pizza delivery failed me. One glass of wine into a Wives with Knives marathon, I attempted to order a quick pizza and was rejected. “Sorry ma’am, we’re not delivering due to inclement weather.” Excuse me? This is winter in Detroit. There’s always inclement weather. Unacceptable. I was forced to stomp into the kitchen and make my own.
Pasta Sauce 101
I first started cooking in undergrad, with a self-mandated, weekly grocery budget of forty dollars. Yup. Forty whole dollars. And like any other college student, my staple meal was what else? Spaghetti. Spaghetti made with jars upon jars of processed pasta sauce. Looking back on my years of spaghetti consumption, I realize that it didn’t have to be that way.
Homemade sauce is not only easy and customizable, but also much better for us than the canned stuff. A handful of simple ingredients always trumps stumbling over scary, unrecognizable ones on the back of a Preggo can. Although I can't deny that until pretty recently, I have enjoyed those cans of Preggo. No shade. But we grow!
The haute in domestic
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