I have mastered cooking breakfast. This is according to my friends–all of whom have no qualms telling me when my cooking sucks–and the Bae, who is a little nicer about it but will essentially tell me this ain’t it, chief. So because they are all such jerks, I feel comfortable believing them when they say my cooking is excellent! Let me tell you what I’ve mastered: scrambled eggs (both regular and truffled!), omelets, frittatas, poached eggs (I mastered this for those times I need to fool a person into thinking I’m elegant and sophisticated), fried eggs, waffles, french toast, and oatmeal (with nuts and spices and raisins–not just plain oatmeal!).
I have not mastered grits, because…why? I was once in line at a buffet type situation and the guy in front of me was spooning grits onto his plate (very slowly!) and I moved around him to the next thing in line, and he was like, “You’re not southern are you? No southern person would ever pass up the grits.” And no–I’m not southern. My grandma used to make them when we went to visit her in Mississippi, but we ate them with butter and sugar. And I’m told that that’s the wrong way to eat them. People are weird about grits, yo.
I also haven’t mastered pancakes but that’s only because I much prefer french toast and waffles. I really want to be good at hash browns but I still haven’t created the perfect onion and spice balance. I will, though!
Next, I am moving on to lunch. Salads and crepes and sandwiches and…stuff. I already make bomb egg salad because my mom used to make it all the time and it’s quick and easy and CHEAP, so I picked it up. I think next I’m going to master the savory crepe. Can you imagine if I’m able to accomplish that?! I would probably make crepe tutorials on Youtube because I wouldn’t be able to shut up about it.
Okay, I’ve gotta go. I’m on my way to Home Depot because I’m on a never-ending quest for the perfect shade of navy to go on my walls.
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.
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.
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!
Talk soon, kids! Bisous!
I completed my bed project. It’s comfortable and plush and lux just like a hotel bed you never want to leave. And in the mornings now, I don’t want to leave it. Seems I didn’t think this all the way through.
The addition that made the most difference to my bed was the mattress topper I bought. It’s three and a half inches of memory foam, and oh man, it’s heavenly. It has made my bed almost as high as the beds that used to be at my grandma’s house and that makes me laugh a little every time I get in. Are high beds a deep south thing? I don’t recall anyone else I know having beds that high.
I didn’t have to work today, and that’s lucky because I was in a blind, homicidal rage also known as PMS and there’s nothing of note to complain about right now but I was still in a funk and holding back tears all morning and then the cramps would spring up periodically that were so painful they would stop me in my tracks and AAAAGGHHHHHH! So after I got all of my necessary errands done, I went back home, climbed into my splendid bed, and watched every single second of the Michael Cohen testimony while scrolling through Twitter to read hilarious (but also informative!) commentary on it in real time. It was just what the doctor ordered. That’s not to say that I’m feeling tons better, but at least the psychotic fury has passed. Also, Twitter is always good for a few good belly laughs when you really need them (it’s also a cesspool that will make you buy extra locks for your doors and windows and make you think that most people are soulless lunatics, so I wouldn’t get addicted, if I were you!).
Tonight is fish taco night in the Toppsy Turvy household. I bought cilantro and cotija cheese so it’s gonna be very authentic. And I’m finally going to have the chance to use my new food processor and make the fish taco sauce! Things are looking up.
Talk later, kids!
I just texted my friend with a picture of my new rose gold chrome nails, and her verbatim response was, “Biiiittttcchhhh.” That means she likes them.
Tomorrow I’m going to a friend’s birthday dinner, so of course I’m conditioning my hair with an egg right now. I don’t remember where I heard about it, but last time I tried it, it made my hair extremely shiny. Try it. You’re welcome.
Earlier today I came home and decided to make fried chicken for dinner. On the fly. No prep. It was a whole disaster. I’ve been taking classes, but, er, um, I’m still not ready for the impromptu-no-recipe-no-preparation-dinners. It was depressing, so I went online and bought another silk robe. What does one have to do with the other? Thank you for asking! When I prance around the house in a silk robe, it makes me feel like I’m killing it at this being-an-adult thing. I mean, only adults do that, right? See? My logic is airtight.
Alright, I’ve gotta go rinse my hair and get back to this Golden Girls marathon I’m watching on TV. When I was a kid, Dorothy was my favorite character, but now I’m kinda vibing with Blanche. However, I think both of them are too mean to Rose.