Vegan peanut butter cookies taste exactly the way you remember as a kid - crumbly, sweet, salty, peanut buttery deliciousness!
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All tagged American
Vegan peanut butter cookies taste exactly the way you remember as a kid - crumbly, sweet, salty, peanut buttery deliciousness!
I’m about to make this cake for the third time in as many weeks. I made it to begin with because our wonderful au pair, our fourth (and best behaved) child, our lifesaver extraordinaire, Aurora, is in the middle of a love affair with sweet potatoes.
Look what I did! From scratch! All by my onesie! And it was delicious!
The title of this post is so New England in autumn it hurts. Summer tans are all but faded and the last nice days are slipping away as the chill sets in. Heavy blankets, fallen leaves, my loud and constant complaining –
I’m going to be trite here, but life goes on. A new semester has begun. Our house has sold. And our tiny, new baby daughter?
I have lots to do today. My suitcase is still staring at me, fully packed; the laundry needs to be folded and put away; the dishwasher needs emptying; the little pool of dirt Stella made under the potted fern needs sweeping up; and all those endless law readings need checking off.
A little while ago, we broke the number one rule when feeding Italians. We served them a saucy, ultra-orthodox version of spaghetti and meatballs. Contrary to popular belief, you will not find meatballs on spaghetti in Italy. Tiny little meatballs in baked penne, maybe. Meatballs as an antipasto or a second course, definitely. But spaghetti and meatballs is a wholly, indisputably, non-Italian entity that – from into songs, children’s books, and Disney movies – has penetrated our culture and become entirely American.
I’m not usually one of those people who doesn’t know what they want for dinner. Growing up, discussions about dinner used to take up the whole ride to school with my dad, who was generally in charge of the hair-brushing, English muffin-toasting morning routine.
While I’d consider myself a black raspberry chocolate chip, gingerbread molasses and banana oreo with jimmies in a cone, I’m married to a vanilla.
In my attempts to consume nothing but foods dripping with American during our brief jaunt to the motherland, I made some interesting choices. I bought all sorts of junk that I didn’t actually end up eating,
So the man’s away for a few days and all you do is spend your time watching America’s Next Top Model and eating nothing but salad and cookies?!
And I was prepared. I knew what we had signed up for, that there would be more meat than four reasonably hungry people should be able to eat