This Weekend In Malibu

Chrissy Teigen has highlighted Instastories of her cooking recipes in semi real-time from her cookbook. I made the pan-seared fish this weekend. I followed it step by step, and my fish (sea bass) turned out beautifully. It was perfect. Like an actual chef had cooked the dinner.  I’m not the kinda girl to brag, but… My sea bass could be served in restaurants. I don’t think that’s bragging as much as it is just plain, ol’ facts. I substituted garlic & basil butter (from Whole Foods) instead of plain butter, but that’s the only thing I changed. If you like to cook and you’re not following Chrissy Teigen on Instagram, what are you even doing? She is single-handedly responsible for taking my cooking game from a seven to an eight. I’m at an eight, guys.  With some dishes anyway.

This past weekend we drove to Malibu and stayed at an AirBnB for the weekend. It was picturesque and relaxing. I don’t really think of myself as a city girl because I’m happiest and most relaxed barefoot and away from people. But… But I need to be close to the action. And I think that the distance from L.A. to Malibu is just right. When we used to visit my grandma every summer in small town Mississippi during my childhood, I don’t think I ever put on shoes. And my cousins and I used to beg my grandma to let us ride in the bed of her pickup truck, which of course is illegal now. I mean–I know that some of that was just the ridiculousness of youth, but–I still don’t care for shoes much. I’m just a country girl who likes the city sometimes! Malibu would be perfect for the rest of my life if the weather was colder during the winter. Also if it were cheaper.

Spring in Malibu is something special, though. The Bae and I went sailing, and although he was loathe to get on a boat with me as the lone sailor, he knew that it was best to at least pretend that he believed in my sailing skills if he wanted a conflict-free weekend.

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Guys, I took sailing lessons for like three years as a kid in Chicago. And again for another couple of summers as an adult in Chicago. CHICAGO IS ALL ABOUT SAILING IN THE SUMMER. I’m very good. Even better than I am at parallel parking. You can trust me.

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Wear your life jacket, though! #trustbutverify

Last weekend, I also binge-watched the entire season of Selling Sunset on Netflix. It’s a reality show about realtors in L.A. selling multi-million dollar properties. I usually hate most reality shows, but this one was catty without being too catty. Ya know? Like the perfect amount of drama combined with stunning and jaw-dropping real estate. I happily consumed every second, and now I want more. Who knows when they’ll drop the second season, though. I’ve been patiently waiting for the next season of Narcos, and…nothing!

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Talk soon, kids! Bisous!

Saint Valentine

You know how whenever Valentine’s Day rolls around there are always people who are like “Valentine’s Day is stupid because you should be showing love every single day and it’s just a commercial holiday and also kakjsbvdbvdsbfkdsfsbvbvbjdbvd!” Which always makes me go:

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and

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and

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Valentine’s Day is my shiiiitttt. I used to love picking out the best assorted Valentine’s Day cards to exchange with all my classmates and conversation hearts–don’t get me started on those because they are the greatest. And to this day, I make heart-shaped cookies for all of my friends, and when I bring them the cookies (and candy hearts) they’re like:

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It’s like casting pearls before swine with these jerks. They don’t deter me, though, because I know a good holiday when I see one. And this year my goddaughter is three so I have someone who (whom?) I can indoctrinate to take on my valid beliefs.

Next week we are going to make cookies and cupcakes for her classmates, and they are going to be the prettiest and most elegant (don’t three-year-olds care about elegance?) treats they’ve ever seen. I guess I should also mention that I’m oddly competitive about things that don’t matter at all. Anyway, I’m going to pick her up from school today so we can ransack Target for all the things we need to make this happen. We may have to go to Michael’s too. Buckhead traffic will not dissuade me or my mission!

We’re gonna try to make macarons, which is risky because I know those are even difficult for an experienced cook, but I found this recipe that claims to be foolproof. I’ll let you know if it isn’t!

Vive la Valentine’s Day!

High On ‘Shrooms

Guys…white truffles cost, on average, two hundred bucks. These MUSHROOMS, on average, cost two hundred dollars. For one ounce. I mean…what?

I know this because I’ve been taking a cooking class, and one of the dishes I’ve been perfecting is scrambled eggs. I know, I know– “Scrambled eggs? How easy! You need a class for scrambled eggs?” Yes, jerks. Because lately I’ve been making the creamiest, fluffiest, most flavorful scrambled eggs you’ve ever had in your lives, and it’s all because of this class. And since you were rude about it, I’m not going to tell you my technique or recipes (except for you, Julie–chives and lobster!).

My teacher likes to give different ways to elevate scrambled eggs. One of his suggestions is to grate white truffles over the top of them before you serve, so off I went to locate some white truffles.

Two hundred dollars. Four hundred dollars. Eighty dollars. These were my options. And–no. This just ain’t gonna happen. Why don’t I just cut up some cash and sprinkle it atop the eggs? Or maybe my 401k? Two hundred dollars is an outrageous price! Outrageous!

But… Maybe for Christmas?

No. It’s ridiculous, right?!

But possibly for my birthday?

No! Why am I even considering this?!

Full disclosure–I’m pretty desperate for elevated scrambled eggs. Who else out here is making elevated scrambled eggs?! I could be the only one! That’s very seductive! Can you imagine people saying, “Kristin makes the BEST scrambled eggs in the world!”? That’d be great, right? Have I lost it?

Guys, I’m obviously not going to buy these white truffles. I’m a rational human being. And it would only be rational to buy such a thing on a birthday or, say, Christmas…

Buenos Días

 

Here’s a little-known fact about me: I make the best breakfast burrito in Georgia. I know that I don’t know everyone in Georgia, so I can’t really say with certainty, but—I MAKE THE BEST BREAKFAST BURRITO IN GEORGIA. Maybe even in the southeast. Also, Chicago.

Most people don’t know this about me because I only make breakfast burritos for certain people and at certain times. Like when I want to impress men’s family members with my cooking skills. Or when I want to spoil loved ones on their birthdays with unforgettable, perfectly seasoned deliciousness. Or on Sundays when I invite people over for brunch and want to appear to be a fully functioning adult.

As a teenager, I had a friend, Valerie, who was of Mexican ethnicity. When I would sleep over at her house, I always helped her make breakfast in the morning, and she taught me how to make what is the best breakfast burrito you’ve ever put in your mouth. Seriously, it’s the best. The only reason I don’t say that I make the best breakfast burrito in the United States is because Valerie makes the best ones. And her mom. And her sisters. Even her brother. But then me. They taught me everything I know. Aside from her family, I also make the best Mexican hot chocolate and huevos rancheros.

Guys… I hope all of this bragging didn’t mistakenly lead you to believe that I was going to share Valerie’s recipe with you. Because…no. It’s mine. I can’t give up the “best breakfast burrito in certain parts of the U.S.” throne. I can’t and I shan’t. If you did think that, though, thank you so much for believing that I’m capable of such selflessness. It’s been a while since someone has had that level of faith in me. Anyway, you guys have your fancy lasagnas and family mac and cheese recipes. LET ME HAVE THIS!

It ain’t Valerie’s, but this recipe from Chowhound will get you very close. Enjoy! And only make it for those who deserve it!