There’s this thing that happens, every 28 days or so, when my hormones kick in to high gear and I nest, rather maniacally. I start giant cleaning and organizing projects, or I cook endlessly. Sometimes it lasts for just for a few hours, or an afternoon, but this month, it’s been a full two days, with no end in sight.
This weekend’s been productive, to put it mildly.
I hauled out my KitchenAid mixer.

I made cookies, and baked bread.

I made pizza dough, and assembled two cute little pizzas for dinner. Here they are before baking:

The one on the right is mushroom, red pepper, onion, sundried tomato, anchovy, and parmesan. The one on the left is ricotta cheese, fresh peach, and black pepper — topped with prosciutto once it came out of the oven.

I polished my silver jewelry, hung some art, cleaned my bathroom, did laundry, went grocery shopping… you get the idea.
Then this morning, my friend S. came over for brunch. I decided to treat her to stuffed French toast, using the bread I made yesterday. I mixed together some ricotta cheese and apricot jam with a few dashes of ground cardamom and cinnamon. Then I played surgeon and cut a pocket into the side of a really thick slice of bread, and stuffed in the cheesy apricot-y goodness. The slices got dipped in a standard French toast mixture (eggs and milk plus a bit of vanilla) and fried in some butter.

Here’s what they look like when you cut them open.

Served with some fruit salad, maple syrup, and coffee, we had ourselves a damn sweet brunch. Yes, literally.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go get my calzoni out of the oven.
Recent Comments