Classic Cornbread

Things that make my life better:

• Puddin' and Daisy

• Soft blankets.  Don't underestimate the power of a nice blanket.  Will's mom gave me my favorite blanket ever for Christmas two years ago.  Now Puddin' likes it too.
• A glass of wine.  I don't think I need to explain this really.  It's a nice way to relax in the evening.
• Football.  Win or lose, it makes my heart pound and my pulse race.  Winning is better obvi.
• Cornbread from scratch.  C'mon, one of these had to be about food.

So cornbread from scratch pretty much makes my world go 'round.  I have a few rules about cornbread.  The biggest is that it should not be sweet.  Sweet cornbread really chaps my behind.  I know that Jiffy mix is tempting, and I have used it before.  But it makes something closer to spoonbread I think.  Maybe I'm talkin' out of my chapped behind, but I'm just particular about most of the cornbread I eat.  This is not to say it doesn't have sugar it.  The sugar just isn't noticeable.  A couple of months ago we got a loaf of cornbread from a higher-end grocer who shall remain nameless.  The fact that it was in a loaf probably should've been the first tip-off, but one bite of the bread and you could tell it was more like pound cake made with corn meal.  Kind of gross.  And completely disappointing.  

The second rule is that cornbread is best when made in a cast iron skillet.  It adds a nice touch, and I like the crust it makes better.  The third rule is that under no circumstances should cornbread be dry.  That's just sad.  Dry cornbread is like a featherless penguin.  It gets rejected, and no body wants to mess with it.  Luckily the penguin was able to grow its feathers after some love and care by aquarium workers.  The cornbread isn't so lucky.

Y'know good cornbread isn't hard to make.  A little of this, a little of that.  A pat of butter.  

Beyond Grilled Cheese

Check it:

This is the picture of comfort.  You can't get more comfortable than this dog.  He's fluffed the comforter and the blanket to just so, and he is a happy camper.  I know this because he snores.  Sometimes he sticks his face in the blanket to block out light.  Diva.  He might be mostly blind and deaf, but he's developed a sixth sense to know when I even think about moving.  Because he doesn't want to be on the bed by himself.

Sometimes (read: most times) he's interested in our dinner.  He'll stand right next to your chair and bark with a wild look in his eyes.  And when we have chicken?  There's no stopping him.  If his bark wasn't so funny, I'd probably get tired of it.  I can't sufficiently describe it, but he sounds like an old man complaining.  One day I'll record it for you.

Don't Mind Me. It's the Benadryl Talking.

I've been in a Benadryl haze for two days now.  It knocks me out, makes me have crazy dreams, and makes me feel like a crazy person.  Cray-cray.  This always happens with the change in seasons.  My allergies go nutso and I have a few days of sore throats and congestion.  It doesn't surprise me, but it does throw me for a loop.

The only thing making me feel like a real person right now is this pumpkin bread:

Secrets

It's secret time.  I know secrets don't make friends, but friends definitely make secrets.  And we're all friends here, right?  Okay, I'll go first.

• I prefer red wine to white.  Not that I don't have a fondness in my heart for the white stuff, I just like picking out a good red more often.
• My caffeine addiction is getting a little...unsettling.
• I can't poach an egg...yet. 
• Breakfast is my favorite meal of the day.  
• I get a warm, glowy feeling when someone loves something I made.  
• I will always give a funny birthday card before a shmoopy one.  I am not a shmoopy person.
• The one place that a massive crowd does not make me break out in hives is Williams-Brice Stadium. Otherwise, I should probably have a Xanax.  Or a cocktail.  

I secretly used to be really suspicious of red velvet cake.  Um, there's no logical explanation for this.  But if someone had just told me it was chocolate with red food coloring, I probably would've been much more receptive.  I know, I'm a weirdo.  And I wonder where my dog gets it from.

Roasted Butternut Squash Soup

Holy moly, y'all, it's October!  That means in the next week or week and a half, I should have a wee little nephew...!

We had a little cool spell here in SC, and it's been glorious.  It's going to be warmer this week but not as warm as it has been.  And the nights are getting chilly too, so I can make warm comfort food for dinner.

Confession:  I'd never had butternut squash before I made this soup.  I've eyed it in the grocery store and seen dozens of recipes for various raviolis, soups, etc.  You see, I used to be quite the picky eater when I was little.  And it's been in the past few years that I've really branched out and tried things that I previously would've avoided.  So.  Butternut squash soup.

Sugar? Bread? Why Wouldn't You?!

My dog is kind of a weirdo.  Evidence:

There was a bag on the floor, and he climbed right in.  He did a few turns and plopped down inside.  Weird.

What's not so weird about him is his absolute terror when he sees lightning.  You see, when he was just a puppy, a puppy not even the least bit concerned about thunderstorms, a giant ball of lightning hit the pecan tree outside our house.  It made a spectacular bang and obviously was very bright.  Since then, Puddin just hasn't been the same.  Now when there's lightning he comes into my room.  I think it's harder to see the lightning from my window, so he lies down and goes to sleep.  Poor baby.

Ya know what makes me feel better when there's lightning?  Cinnamon bread.  Specifically, Joy the Baker's cinnamon sugar pull-apart bread.

Mini Apple Pies

What's more American than apple pie?  Nothing.  Is everything cuter in miniature?  Yes.  Mini apple pies?  My head just exploded.  Actually, my head didn't explode.  It happily gobbled up these little delights.