LET’S FILL THAT BOWL ON THIS SUPER !!!

IN THE NAME OF SPORTS, IT'S TIME TO EAT OURSELVES TO A CELLULITE-D IMMOBILE PULP Right, let's face it. Who are we kidding? The only thing sporty about me is that I could, maybe, jump over a puddle if my life depends on it. My Dad was really into sports when I was growing up, he still is. He's constantly looking at US sportsbooks and judging what to bet on next, it's quite interesting to watch really! But that doesn't mean you wouldn't want someone like me at the party this Sunday - while the gang rouse up above a borderline-patriotic roar towards the flatscreen, beers blazing and testosterone bursting - who sinks into the couch giggling at her phone whilst watching French bulldog puppies on youtube. Why, because my friends, I'm the one who's gonna bring the kool-Aid. It doesn't even matter if you don't like sports, nearly everyone watches the Super Bowl. Many people get into their comfies, or even their sportswear to really get in the mood, and settle down to watch one of the biggest events of the year. My friend buys a new trackuit every year the Superbowl is on - you can click

LET’S CATCH-A-PURI

[ezcol_1half] MY THOUGHTS STIRRED, AS THEY STIRRED, INTO A TANGIBLE STRINGY MESS OF RESTLESSNESS. [/ezcol_1half] [ezcol_1half_end] I thought long and hard about how I should talk to you about this. I thought about it when I saw it glaring at me, all too long ago, from Tasting Table on their grinning newsletter.  I thought about it when I laid sleepless at night, combing through the mental steps of how, and when, I would realize this absurdity in my own kitchen.  I auditioned my blunt vocabularies, while pushing the apathetic shopping cart through the even-less agreeable cheese-section in my grocery store

MACAO’S PORTUGUESE FRIED RICE GRATIN

[ezcol_1half] CAN'T-STOP-WON'T-STOP MESS-ON-A-PLATE, WITH FLAVOURS THAT WELD PERFECTLY INTO YOUR NEXT WEEK-NIGHT REGULARS   [/ezcol_1half] [ezcol_1half_end] There are some women, whose problem is that they never believe they have what it takes to put together an IKEA coffee table.  Then, there are those such as myself.  Who hold unexplained and relentless faith in their own physical strength.  Who ask, how hard can it be?  Who practically built every single bed-bath-and-beyond in her apartment, with chapped unpolished nails and a can of diet coke.  And who, sometimes, get cocky. If you ask me now, I would tell you I have absolutely no idea whatsoever, on why on earth did I think I had the same skills as a professional large-scale furniture builder/wood carpenter, which must be how I felt when I bought 3 colossally humongous, solid wood, antique courtyard doors that I thought I could turn into a dinning table with nothing but a mini screwdriver?  Why

MASHED POTATO BUTTER AIOLI W/ FRIED CAPERS

[ezcol_1third] IS IT MASHED POTATO, OR IS IT A SAUCE?  IT'S THE BEST OF TWO WORLDS. [/ezcol_1third] [ezcol_2third_end] In the past few days, I don't know if you can tell, but my year-long travel-ban situation (recap: sick soupy Dumpling has been losing his juice) has advanced to some sorta voluntary house-arrest, and besides spending all my time migrating him in between the bed and the bathroom, I'm also doing everything I can to not make it too obvious, that I'm trying to live out of a single potato. And now I'm doing it again.  Guess I gave up. But really though, am I the only one fascinated?  I mean, what's the one thing most feared, about an aioli or butter sauce?  No, not that it'll grow you an extra thigh, which it will and that's that.  But it's actually, with radical willingness, that both itself and your heart, it'll sadly break (so true, Yoda.  so true).  Which is what makes this recipe, a hybrid between mashed potato and butter aioli, so superbly amateur-friendly.  We all know how the line between a "side-dish" and a "condiment" goes increasingly blurry for the most creamy and buttery "mashed potato" of its kind.  So why not smudge the line even further?  A smooth and silky butter aioli

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