Jackie’s Easy Ramen Recipe

As far as I have been responsible for feeding myself, I have had a deep and steadfast affinity for all noodles. They are cheap, never go bad and versatile. I don’t give a fuck what Marie Osmond, Jillian Michaels or your gluten free roommate tells you… carbs are NOT the enemy. I get aroused by a good pasta and if you learn to make it at home for yourself, you can cut out a lot of the fatty, unhealthy bullshit ingredients restaurants add (same goes with salad dressing). Last night I experimented with an old friend of a noodle, Ramen, and was pleasantly tickled.

I haven’t cooked Ramen in years because it takes me back to a dark place… college. I know being that I am just 39% basic, one would assume I loved college and was in a sorority and like shared hotel rooms in Vegas to go to some day club cause I knew the promoter…but no. I fucking hated college. Hence while I only made it about a year and a half. I spent the better part of my collegiate days ditching class, doctoring fake report cards to send to my dad to see if fake straight A’s could wrangle me a few extra hundred a month, watching Barefoot Contessa, then going to Food for Less in pursuit of discount Branzino.

Unfortunately, once mid-month hit I usually had to resort to one fucking thing to sustain my beastly appetite, Ramen. So as you can imagine, we have a very sentimental and indifferent relationship, Ramen and I.

Last night, I went back in time along with a more highly developed culinary touch and gave my 5 year old emergency Ramen package a go and here is the easiest, most delicious, cheap, healthy asian noodle dinner you have ever tasted. Fuck you Ina.

What you need (for one serving #allbymyself #dontjump) 1 package of ramen noodles, 2 small heads of baby bok choy, handful of kale, 2 handfuls of shitake mushrooms (or whichever you like), 2 small thai peppers, ginger, 5 cloves of garlic, 1 shallot, ¼ lb of steak (I used stir fry style), one egg, teriyaki sauce, 1 ½ cups of veggie broth, fish sauce, low sodium soy sauce, lime, chives.

  1. Soft boil an egg in pot of boiling water, 6 minutes is perfection erection, remove shell and rinse under cool water to stop cooking, put aside.
  2. In same water (#resourceful) cook your ramen noodles about 3 minutes, throwout the flavoring packet – that shit will leave you bloated until 2018.
  3. Strain noodles and set aside.
  4. Over medium heat, add about 2 tablespoons of olive oil, 5 cloves of chopped garlic, half a thumb worth of peeled and chopped fresh ginger, 2 thai peppers (scrape out the insides these fuckers are HOTT) and half of a shallot chopped. Sautee until translucent.
  5. Peel leaves of the bok choy (throw out the tough inside part) and add to the ginger/garlic and toss until they soften about 2 minutes.
  6. Add mushrooms, sautee another 2 minutes.
  7. Add vegetable broth, few dashes of soy sauce, few dashes of fish sauce, juice and zest of half a lime and handful of kale, stire and let simmer on low heat until shit gets hott and all veggies are soft and wilted
  8. In separate pan heat up tablespoon of olive oil and add meat of your liking, sautee just lightly so meat does not get touch, add a dash of teriyaki to give some sweetness and throw in some sesame seeds if you got em.
  9. Add your ramen noodles and egg to the hot broth to reheat and then pour into a bowl. Slice the soft boiled egg in half and place on top.
  10. Add meat, handful of chopped chives, remaining raw shallot, lime wedge or zest on top of noodles and thank me later.

 

DEAR GWYNETH

Dear Gwyneth,

It’s been awhile since we spoke. I have sent a few nudes to Noah in efforts to pull a Mary Kay Letourneau situation (like only when he is legal) but haven’t heard from him either. Whatevs. I hope everything is going great for you, I imagine you are somewhere in Côte d’Azur calling your house staff by the wrong names and muddling organic tarragon and Apple’s tears for a new signature Goop cocktail. I hope to one day sit next to you on the porch of one of your many vacation homes and laugh at poor people together, but until then being pen pals will just have to do.

I thought it was really blue collar of you to do the NYC Food Stamp challenge for a few hours awhile ago. You are like an imported organic Cippolini onion, so many layers yet so unattainable. I felt for a moment a less Goopy Gwyneth was coming, like a blonde truffle-infused Phoenix Rising. I was even able to find a dishtowel for sale on your website that would only set me back $175. Can you say #downtoearth? All you needed was one public drive through at a McDonalds and a Taylor Swift concert cameo away from being America’s slightly less pretentious Sweetheart again. Was the Priestess of Goop becoming more relatable?

Clearly I had spoken too soon because shortly after this possible breakthrough I received your September Goop Newsletter. Besides you breaking world news and bravely stating that “Pokē is having a moment”, featuring a super practical cotton zip-up sweatshirt for $1,198, debuting your FALL 2015 CULTURE GUIDE which almost sent me into cardiac arrest –AND you also tickled my pretentious pickle with this recipe for “Beauty Milk”. The ingredients include pumpkin seed milk, Moon Pantry tocotrienols, lucuma, schisandra berry and fucking PEARL.

Um… is that shit available at Ralphs? WHERE THE FUCK AM I SUPPOSED TO FIND MOON PANTRY PEARLS? IS THAT EVEN LEGAL? WHAT THE HELL IS A SCHISANDRA BERRY? ARE YOU ON ACTUAL CRACK GWYNETH?

I’m sorry for yelling at you, I just got a little heated about asking my Trader Joe’s sale clerk where I could find the organic tocotrienols (preferably locally sourced) for my Goop Beauty Milk. I don’t care if this milk could turn Shrek into Jennifer Lopez YOU SHOULDN’T HAVE TO SELL AN OVARY TO AFFORD ANY RECIPE ON FUCKING GOOP. I would rather be ugly and still have my dignity.

I hope you understand where I am coming from and we can talk this over in person soon. Please know that I will always love you and never plan on unsubscribing from the Goop newsletter but only because it enrages me so much my heart rate increases and I end up burning lots of calories. Stay goopy girl and let me know when Noah turns 18.

Love always,

Jackie

gwyneth

How To: Make Apple Tarts

I don’t fucking bake, here is video evidence why…

Sure I probably alienated 92% of my readers and am probably going to be sued by Ina Garten (Jeffrey call me) but the turnovers turned out delicious and at least I could use this video as evidence for any future bipolar diagnosis. Bon appétit bitches!

o

Soup to Help You Poop

I am so fucking bloated. Pretty sure that will be acknowledged on my tombstone because I wouldn’t want the embalmer to judge me on my seemingly slender frame and surprise bloated midsection. Healthy digestion has never been my thing. Maybe it’s the 45 lbs of cheese I consume weekly or my liking towards public restrooms that makes going to the bathroom so very stressful.

Because of my ailment, every once in a while I have to lighten my load and guide myself into salvation with a laxative like meal. Last night, I was feelling particularly with (food) child so I knew it was time to bust out my tried and true roasted tomato soup. It’s fast, easy, healthy and will have you blissfully shitting in no time…

INGREDIENTS:

  1. Crate of grape/cherry tomatoes
  2. 1 lb of chicken broth (vegetable broth works if you are a loser vegan)
  3. Fresh basil
  4. 1 white onion diced
  5. 8 cloves of garlic chopped
  6. Crushed red pepper
  7. Olive oil
  8. S+P

roasted-tomatoesOnion-Garlic

Preheat oven to 375. Put tomatoes in baking dish, toss with olive oil, salt and pepper. Roast for an hour or until they burst open and get golden. In pot sautee onions and garlic until translucent. Add tomatoes to pot, add crushed red pepper, chicken broth and let simmer. For smoother soup, pulse in blender and re-simmer. Top with fresh basil! **If you are looking to further constipate yourself add parmesan or ricotta to make it creamy and serve with side salad and a down home grilled cheese sandwich.

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Bitchy Bellini

It’s Memorial Day and that means paying respect to our troops who defend our country and keep us safe … and day drinking #AMERICA. If you are like me and like to be asleep by 8:30pm, getting your drink on begins at 11am. Nothing says good morning like a fruity and frisky bellini. With fresh peaches and juice, it’s basically a fucking smoothie.

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  • Peaches
  • Orange or Grapefruit Juice
  • Mint
  • Champagne (or Prosecco)

Directions: Puree fresh diced peaches in a blender with dash of juice, blend until smooth and then strain to get rid of any chunks/skin (gross). Let chill then add one healthy spoonful to bottom of Champagne flute and top with the good stuff. Garnish with fruit and mint. Cheers bitch!

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Dear Gwyneth

Dear Gwyneth,

I have been meaning to write to you since you named your child Apple. I will admit that if we ever meet face to face and are in the same tax bracket I will immediately delete this letter and try to penetrate your social circle (and your ex husband). I know you are probably busy finding the latest $780 sweat band to declare a summer MUST HAVE on Goop, but I hope you can take the time to acknowledge some of your recent public glitches.

A couple of months ago you declared in a magazine article that you are “incredibly close to the common woman”. Seeing that your net worth is an estimated $140 million dollars, this is difficult to comprehend. From an Oscar, performing at the Grammy’s, a cookbook, a blow dry bar, your bestie Beyonce and the bane of my existence GOOP, I hate to break it you sweet cheeks you ain’t common.

Most recently, you broadcasted that you would accept the NY Food Stamp challenge and feed your family off $29 for the week. Poverty challenges aren’t like a game of hopscotch you played at your elite sleep away camp. It’s cute that you felt the need to publicly broadcast your Food Stamp Challenge and bring awareness to the cause. However I am not sure they sell organic kale at the local Food for Less. If you wanted to properly fulfill this challenge I have a hot tip for you; Cup a Noodles, economy sized Bagel Bites and a fucking sugar daddy. Girls just want to have funds. Also did you really need to buy 7 organic limes? If this was a first offense, I wouldn’t be writing you but as a fellow blonde Jew with entitlement issues I felt it necessary to offer some insight.

I get as a public figure you are trying to use your platform to spread awareness. For that I will not fault you, however the juxtapose of your attempts to be relatable and your overwhelming pretentious bullshit (hi Goop) makes you completely un-likeable. Like borderline Anne Hathaway status. You have been quoted complaining how hard it is to find a bikini wax in Paris, how your children gravitate towards organic produce and nuts and that whole “conscious uncoupling” nightmare I JUST CAN’T. Goopers also delighted us with this recent quote…

“I am who I am. I can’t pretend to be somebody who makes $25,000 a year.” THEN DON’T GWYNETH, JUST DON’T.

I mean, Country Strong is the best movie of all time so for that I thank you. Yes, I have the soundtrack and no I am not ashamed. Gwyneth – even the way you spell your name is pretentious. You’re delusion is oddly inspiring. From gallavanting about Europe with your macrobiotic green juice, hawking $1300 pinky rings and casually using the verb “imbibe” in one of your Goopy (and gaggy) newsletters – keep doing you girl. And have Moses call me in 8 years.

Love always,

Jackie

PS Gwennie, freshly shaved truffles are actually NOT available at most supermarkets.

Thirsty Thursday – Lavender Martini

Oh hai. I have been feeling super rustic lately. First, I bought mason jars. Then yesterday I found myself starting a fucking her garden… the legal kind. Sure it will be nice to have a fresh sprig of thyme to jazz up a roasted chicken but what I am MOST excited about is incorporating my homegrown garnishes to use in my cocktails. The first to sprout (gardening lingo) was my lavender BUSH. Am I the only adult who can’t use the word bush seriously? Since I am partial to a dirty martini, last night I got experimental with my new foliage and concocted this DELISH lavender martini I had to share with muh bitches.

WHAT YOU NEED:

Vodka (Gin works too)

Juice of a lemon

Lavender syrup (to make boil equal parts sugar and water with a few sprigs of lavender)

To serve: Let syrup chill. Rim martini glass (or if you are a dirty hipster MASON JAR) with lemon juice and dip in sugar. To a cocktail shaker add 1.5 oz (or more) of vodka, juice of a lemon, tablespoon of simple syrup and ice. Shake like a polaroid picture and serve.

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You’re welcome. Cheers!

IT’S HERE.

Bitches, my highly unanticipated podcast series is finally here. I try not to appear TOO thirsty (although I am parched as fuck) so consider this the ONLY favor I ask of you. Download (it’s FREE, link below) SUBSCRIBE (instant gratification) review (5 stars) and share with your bitches. Below is some feedback I received from family, friends and producers from first pod.

DOWNLOAD ON ITUNES https://itunes.apple.com/us/podcast/the-bitch-bible/id966029848 

OR LISTEN ON SOUNDCLOUD 

Bitch Life Hacks

BYOB… Everywhere. Water bottles are the smart bitch’s flask of the future. Clear alcohol= standard water bottle. Colored alcohol = Perrier (colored plastic) when all else fails double ziploc your happy juice and shove it in your bra (perfect for amusement parks).

For the non-domestic bitch looking to impress your boo: buy a premade rotisserie chicken from the market. Cut it up, add some garlic cloves, lemon slices, rosemary up the ass cavity, stick it in the oven cover with foil and everyone will think you’re a fucking goddess.

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Unless it’s your best bitch or boyfriend, don’t be a double (or worse triple) text kind of bitch. In the same realm, if you send a text that takes up length of the phone screen you need to get your shit together.

BYOB… Everywhere. Water bottles are the smart bitches flask of the future. Clear alcohol= standard water bottle. Colored alcohol = Perrier (colored plastic) when all else fails double ziploc your happy juice and shove it in your bra (perfect for amusement parks).

Preparing a cheese plate can really suck the life out of you. There you stand, at Trader Joe’s, paralyzed by the abundant selection. Just remember the 3-S rule: Sharp, Stinky and Soft. For example: Gouda, Stilton, Brie. Fucking duh.unnamed

Always carry mace in every handbag and/or orifice. And don’t be afraid to use it, it’s legal. Just please make sure the safety lock is engaged if it’s up your v.

If you are wearing hot pink or sultry red dress, don’t wear a black shoe. Go nude or metallic. Trust me.

Learn the skinny arm and implement it whenever humanly possible. In conjunction with a protruding clavicle you WILL be your best self.

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Buy your olive oil at TJ Maxx. But seriously, that shit is expensive. I buy all major condiments and hair products there. ITS HALF PRICE. Nothing gives me a lady-boner harder than discount truffle oil and a hair mask for under $10… NOTHING.

Get coats at discount shops like H&M or Forever 21 and change the buttons. Oldest trick in the book.

When traveling, ALWAYS tell the hotel you are celebrating an anniversary (even if you are alone) it has a 84% success rate for free champagne.

Use popsicles instead of ice cubes for cocktails. Shimmy a watermelon popsicle into a shaker, add some vodka and mint and everyone will think you are a pretentious mixologist from Los Feliz.

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Get a journal or a therapist. Finding support in solace in your friends and family is great, but sometimes working through some of your issues privately makes you a strong bitch. It’s good to have a gauge of when you are exhausting your support systems and save those resources for a real shit storm.

If you want the Ariana Grande ponytail without having to clip one on like she does, you must learn the double ponytail. It will change your life and probably make you a better singer.

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In a pinch, know you are legally allowed to sleep overnight at any Walmart parking lot. Seriously… they can’t kick you out. This is what would be considered an all time low but at least a bitch has options.

I Been Drankin.

I am sure this comes as no surprise to most of you bitches but it should be said. I live for a good cocktail. I am not the girl ralphing in my purse or flashing my vagina on the sidewalk… I drink like a fucking lady. I have always said I missed my calling as a pretentious bartender so I like to live that dream in the privacy of my own home.

I am someone who is plagued with neurosis and a routine lifestyle so it is rare that I stray from my usual vodka martini. Last weekend something truly terrible happened… I ran out of fucking martini olives. There I sat alone, watching Stepmom, sans my go-to libation and I have never felt so alone. Sure I could have gone to the market but then I would have had to move so obviously that was a no-go. Sobriety clearly was NOT an option – have you seen Stepmom? Susan Sarandon practically gutted me alive.

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Being the free spirit that I am I decided to concoct a new drink that has since been blowing my fucking mind. I call it my “Basil Bitch Delight”, first you need the following…

  • Basil.
  • Lime or Lemon juice
  • Simple syrup (agave nectar works too)
  • Club soda.
  • Vodka (Gin works too)
  • Ice ice baby.

To make simple syrup boil equal parts water and sugar, to make it fancy add a lime peel and some basil. Make sure you let syrup cool before adding to your drink or you will fuck everything up.

Add ice, shot of vodka (or 2), juice of one lime, teaspoon of simple syrup (more if you like it sweet) and basil leaves to a shaker. Shake that shit like a Polaroid picture and pour into short tumbler or strain into martini glass, top with club soda and get your garnish on bitch. Drink happy.

High & Triple Distilled Spirits

I am a very routine bitch. I wake up, check my Instagram followers and make a to do list for the day. I tend to do my marketing around 11am post breakfast after a failed attempt at delivering my food baby, an average of 4 hours watching Bravo and cloaked in both shame and water retention. The parking lot is open, the cheese selection hasn’t been picked over and the staff seems in a chipper mood. For the first time ever I braved the carpool mom cluster fuck that IS Trader HOES at 5pm. The whole market just smelt of baby formula, cheese puffs and regret.

Within 34 seconds of entering the market, a kid spit on me. It wasn’t like he hacked a loogie on me, it was more of an aggressive drool. Thank god I have a serious gravitation towards Asian children or I may have cut a bitch. I am not an ageist … babies can be real assholes.

As I headed towards my happy place aka the liquor aisle I was hit with an immediate wave of social anxiety. All of these medicated carpool moms were clearly 20 minutes away from getting the shakes and running rampant. Children were left abandoned as their mothers grabbed crates of Two Buck Chuck. The sight alone was the best birth control I have ever experienced. I needed to get the fuck out of there. As I went to grab my routine bottle of Goose on the top shelf I found myself perplexed as the bottle in my hand started to crackle… because it was made of fucking plastic.

It read “Vodka of The Gods” and was $9.99 for a handle. The description boasted it was “perfect for mixed drinks” which is like when someone describes a bitch as looking “healthy” after she has gained a few lbs. You can’t bullshit a bullshitter. I would sooner ferment my own potatoes or find a Russian sugar daddy with great Vodka inventory before I bought this shit. I practically dropkicked the nearest employee and demanded they check the back for some decent vodka.

College wasn’t my shtick but I can imagine how those 4 minutes of waiting for Salvador to return and determine the fate of my evening has to be eerily similar to waiting for a University acceptance letter. As I saw my little chalupa emerge from the back without any happy juice in tow my heart sank. “So sorry ma’am. It’s been a very busy afternoon. Have you ever tried Vodka of The Gods?” “Fuck you Salvador.”

I had spent 40 minutes navigating this infested market, helped an elderly pick out a new orchid and swapped germs with enough children to cast a United Colors of Benetton ad. It was time to get sketchy.

Out of the corner of my eye I spotted a yoga pant-wearing woman chatting away on her Bluetooth. She had abandoned her little boy in the shopping cart and was perusing various meatless products. I quickly scanned the contents of her cart: 1) Her mediocre child 2) No animal byproducts 3) A bottle of fucking Grey Goose. Clearly this bitch was a vegan. Can they even DRINK vodka? “Seriously tempeh tastes better than steak Cheryl, you MUST try it” … Now all bets were off. Her kid was playing on his iPad, she was gabbing away about her philanthropic dietary restrictions (side note: if everyone was a fucking vegan the ecosystem would CRASH #teamfoodchain) and I was getting thirstier by the minute. I knew if I could just position myself about 45 degrees to the left of her malnourished child I could grab the bottle of Goose and make a bolt for the cashier. It really seemed like I would be doing her a favor… I mean drinking something that possibly could have come from a Goose seems conflicting with her lifestyle choices.

I inched closer pretending to red the nutritional info on a nearby box of Snap Pea Crisps and ever so delicately let my left arm fall into Vegan Victoria’s shopping cart. Without breaking eye contact from the Snap Peas, I located the bottleneck and slowly started to lift it out of the cart. With merely centimeters to go … “MOM MY IPAD DIED!” what a little shithead. The mother whipped around and caught me awkwardly holding the bottle of vodka behind my back while I clutched the snap peas. “Oh… UM. I am so sorry I thought this was my cart? Haha!”  #LAWLZ Yeah fucking right. I am pretty sure I didn’t also have an overindulged little asshole riding shotgun in MY cart. She looked over at my nearby basket filled with ground lamb, 46 kinds of cheese and enough frozen fish to subsidize for Fukushima and things only got more awky.

She looked at me in total disgust. Back off me bitch, things could be worse. It wasn’t like I was trying to kidnap your child. Some may call this occurrence a personal low point… I prefer to think I had great initiative and high spirits. I headed to the checkout sans Vodka and many of my maternal instincts. Since this incident I have been popping birth control pills like wintergreen Tic Tacs. I have made a vow never to come face to face with these vicious Trader Hoes ever again and to forever more buy all alcohol at Costco where the dilfs and samples are plentiful.

Skinny Bitch Piña Colada

I was going to do a VMA recap but… I don’t fucking feel like it. Recaps are so annoying. I will say Ariana Grande is too talented to keep dressing like the spokesperson for Wet Seal lingerie, Taylor Swift moves like a limp green bean with a minor case of cerebral palsy (although Shake it Off is my jam) and Yonce is STILL on my mouth like liquor…. Every female in the music industry should be EMBARASSED #queenbey.

If you don’t follow me on Instagram you are really missing out… I am like the Martin Scorcese of fucky 15 second instavids (@jackieschimmel #plug). Yesterday, continuing my pain in the ass world tour – vacation edition, I was lusting for a poolside pina colada in a big way. It is rare I have these fruity cocktail cravings since the only thing I drink is dirty martinis. Until yesterday I had been convinced a “Phil Collins” was just a super popular gin drink… awkward. Now I eat like a diabetic truck driver but I WILL turn down for liquid calories. 500 calories for one fucking drink? No thanks, I would rather have a burger. I have to keep my shit together, I have my television debut in a few weeks (I will be on Watch What Happens Live on Bravo 9/14 #doubleplug) and have no intention of doing any type of exercise. One of my cocktail making tricks is the importance of a good shaker. I make ALL my drinks in a shaker, it’s like an irresponsible arm work out. Another trick is swapping out ice cubes (which tend to dilute the happy juice) for fresh fruit popsicle chunks. I don’t mean loading up your drink with some syrupy bullshit – I am talking either real frozen fruit or some 100% juice popsicles. My faves are a watermelon mint popsicle (48 mutha fuckin calories) found at specialty markets and coconut water fruit floes from Trader Joes (perfect for this recipe). Here is my super easy Skinny Bitch Pina Colada recipe that will not result in a muffin top or a hangover.

This is hands down the most awkward video of all time. Bottoms up bitches.

Easy Summer Recipes

I am not going to sit here and go on and on how I get a huge hipster boner for fresh summer produce and flourishing farmer markets. I don’t bring my own bags to the supermarket, wear gladiator sandals and a farmers hat to peruse locally sourced eggplant and insincerely grope lemons for 35 minutes to find one that is “just right”. That is just not me.

I do however enjoy the free samples and imported cheese selection at MY local farmer’s market so once in a blue moon I stray from my usual Gelson’s or Bristol Farms and head  to roam amongst the granola crew. When I am cooking a meal my main focus is presentation, easy ingredients (inexpensive doesn’t hurt either) and obviously yummy. I really hate the word yummy and apologize for using it so carelessly. As I wandered the aisles of fresh fruits and hemp accessories I was inspired to make a dinner solely using ingredients bought at the farmer’s market (and by inspired I mean I was running low on gas and felt too lazy to stop at another store).

I got seduced by an Israeli man with more herbs than Whoopi Goldberg so I got swindled into buying almost everything under the sun. Basil, dill, italian parsley, green onions, rosemary, you name it. I tried to incorporate all of these into my dinner. I decided to make lavender lemon martini’s, a burrata caprese salad, herb salmon and grilled peaches with vanilla ice cream. It was a total stomach boner if I do say so myself and so colorful!

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Lavender Cocktaillemon juice, simple syrup (equal parts sugar and water boiled) infused with fresh lavender, vodka. Add to shaker with ice, shake, serve and sip responsibly… or don’t no judgements.

Caprese Salad burrata cheese (buffalo mozzarella works too), heirloom tomatoes, basil, olive oil, balsamic vinegar (or glaze). Slice and layer, top with oil and vinegar, salt and pepper.

Herb Salmon salmon filet(s), lemon, fresh italian parsley, dill, green onion and whatever else you have. Coat salmon in olive oil, lemon juice, salt and pepper and top with chopped herbs. Drizzle more olive oil over herbs so they don’t burn. Bake in 375 degree oven for 15-20 minutes.

Grilled Peaches with Vanilla Ice Cream – peaches, honey, vegetable oil, vanilla ice cream, mint (I used basil instead). Brush peaches with oil and grill until soft with pretty grill marks, top with vanilla ice cream (after peaches have cooled) drizzle with honey (optional) and garnish with mint. 

Bon Appétit bitches.

 

 

Barefoot Cuntessa

Yesterday I spent 4 hours watching that fat ass Ina Garten waddle around her Hamptons humble abode and make all of her “effortlessly chic” meals. I will admit Barefoot Cuntessa is my fave cooking show and I genuinely enjoy her recipes and pretentious demeanor. What I can’t deal with is how many times she says the word “decadent”, her plump fingers finagling raw meat and her over sized polo shirts. She tries to overplay the whole rustic lifestyle, it’s like bitch you live in waterfront mansion with a closeted homosexual husband. Also, Matilda called and wants her hairstyle back. Ina pretends all of her recipes appeal to the everyday woman when in reality 96% of them include ingredients you sure as fuck won’t find at your neighborhood Vons.”It’s a super simple desert classic the kids will love. All you need is a imported French macaroon press, a mechanical sifter, locally sourced quail eggs, cashew milk and edible 14 karat gold sprinkles!” Seriously Ina? Go fuck yourself. Every time she goes to her specialty seafood shop or exotic cheese store you can just feel the sexual tension. She is obviously exchanging fellatio for a prime sea bass or the perfectly pungent brie cheese.

You may think I being too harsh to the Barefoot Cuntessa and your probably right. But in hopes of excusing my behavior you may want to take a peek at this. So nasty and so rude (Real Housewives reference…)

So after hours of watching Ina blow a cheese specialist, wrap centerpieces in burlap and skillfully trying to differentiate her wrist from her forearm I decided to give one of her recipes a go. Last time this year I was gallivanting in Paris with a beret and a permanent bottle of champs in my hand so naturally when I saw my bitch whooping this French dish up, I thought it would be perfect to make. I subbed out many of Ina’s faaaaaabulous ingredients for more accessible items you prob already have in the kitchen and added some special bitchy touches cause I am super considerate and down to earth…

MOULES FRITES

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  • 2 cups of white wine
  • 1 medium sized shallot
  • 5 cloves of garlic
  • Bunch of Italian parsley
  • 4 tablespoons of butter
  • 1 lb of mussels
  • 1 lemon (zested)
  • Crushed red pepper, S+P
  • Olive oil (#duh)
  • 5 russet potatoes

– Preheat oven to 420 degrees.
– Slice potatoes into fry like strips
– Toss with olive oil, s+p
– Bake until golden brown, top with parmesan

– Mince garlic and shallots. Add to pot with olive oil, butter, dash of s+p, double dash of   crushed red pepper (more if you’re a spicy bitch) sauté for a couple minutes.
– Add alcohol, turn up the heat and let reduce for few minutes.
– Add mussels. Cover and let cook on higher heat for 5 minutes or until all of the mussels have opened up (toss the ones that don’t)
– Top with chopped parsley and lemon zest. Serve with frites and your fave cocktail.

Voilà!