The best part of eating clean are the cheat days, and the best part of having children is when you can turn them into your own personal indentured servants. It’s all about the payoff, and I look forward to the day when I have kids to vacuum and clean up dead squirrels from the front porch, because I am TOO FANCY for such things.
And the best part of being a food blogger is the swag for just cooking up stuff and writing about slave labor. My friend Isabel over at Family Foodie invited me to a Desserts in Jars party she was hosting at Datz Dough, a new pastry-centric restaurant spinoff from the highly acclaimed Datz Delicatessen in Tampa, FL. They have boozy milkshakes there. Just…just let that thought marinate a minute.
The event was to celebrate Datz’s induction of various desserts in jars as inspired by Shaina Olmanson‘s newest cookbook, Desserts in Jars. Their newest menu items include Shaina’s peanut butter cup cupcake, caramel crème cheesecake, pull apart cinnamon bread, cherry almond crumble, and lemon meringue pie with thyme shortbread crust.
*Pictures from Desserts in Jars cookbook
All of these recipes and more are in the above aforementioned cookbook, and I am giving it away to one lucky winner! To qualify, use the RaffleCopter below to enter.
There are things in life that scare me. Like, for instance, when you’re sitting in a doctor’s office for a regular checkup and you’re asked to remove all of your clothes, but remember you wore your unforgivably ugly underwear because it’s laundry day, and you make a panicked mental reminder to find a new doctor because, clearly, you can’t face this one again.
But also diet things. Like, any and all diet things. I think we can thank the ’80s for most things “diet” and “lite”, as well as for acid wash denim and the surge of needlessly long guitar solos that make most songs too awkward for karaoke.
My defenses against these fears are, first, keep a healthy stock of doctor-friendly underwear, and second, combat the diet fad by making my junk food the way the food gods intended: full fat, full flavor, no shame.
Like this ridiculous wheat-, dairy-, egg-, gluten-, and sugar-free chocolate cream pie, for instance:
When I made my foray into this gluten-free adventure of mine a couple months back (albeit with a few warranted cheat days) I wasn’t sure I’d ever again know the joy of burning my lips on a scorching-hot, gooey, soft and chewy chocolate chip cookie. I’d conceded to eating cookies that would make me wish the apocalypse were real. But much like when I was five and assumed Mother Theresa was a portly black woman (and also that her name was “Mother Catreesa”) I was so very wrong!
BEHOLD. A gluten-free chocolate chip cookie that looks, feels and tastes like a REAL CHOCOLATE CHIP COOKIE. None of this crumbly, dry, flavorless nonsense. I would take this cookie to bed and call it the next morning.
I know what you’re thinking. I’ve been silent for a month and I come to you with rabbit food? Well hear me out, I promise it’ll be worth it. This side of the blogosphere has been dark for the last month, because it’s been a pretty dark time for me. See, my stomach and I are having issues. The issue being that my stomach is an asshole.
We’ve been arguing for years, and in its seething resentment toward me, I’ve found that breads and pastas weigh like a ton in my stomach and the aftermath of eating chocolate is like a dull kick to the vagina. And if my stomach were a man I WOULD FIGHT IT.