the stories
the kitchen
the market
the proof (party pics!)
the food porn
the recipes
the about
the drop me a line part
the resources
the full list
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soupapalooza!

the stories
the kitchen
the market
the proof (party pics!)
the food porn
the recipes
the about
the drop me a line part
the resources
the full list
jewelry alchemy

turkey sausage patty sliders: love is in a biscuit

Doing a breakfast-palooza was a no-brainer for me, though I do not eat breakfast with any regularity at all; mostly my days begin with at least three cups of espresso (thanks to Arash and his amazing gift of the Francis) and then some kind of lunch around 4pm. It's probably not the best way to set myself up for success nutritionally speaking, or as a practice of self-love, but it is what it is. When I do have breakfast or brunch it's nothing short of a celebration.

We didn't really eat breakfast when I was a kid, either. I remember that there were sugary cereals in the pantry for Saturday mornings when my mom would sleep in and my brother and I would get up early to watch cartoons (why, exactly, can I not get excited enough about anything to get me out of bed at 6am these days?), and there was the occasional pouch of instant grits that I would float a stick of butter on. And Mom would make bigfoot pancakes for us on very special occasions, the treatiest of all possible treats, when she would whip up bisquik in her bathrobe and, using a spoon and guiding the batter with her tiny little finger, add little drops that would form "toes" on the top of the browning-in-butter edges of the flap jacks. I always knew something great had happened when bigfoot pancakes would show up in the morning and I still can't help but get a little rush when I smell butter foaming in a pan.

I've said it before, but I think it bears repeating: food is a nostalgic experience. It's full of the details of our memory and emotions which is why it can sometimes be addictive. ​It is comfort, reward, celebration, and sometimes punishment. For me it's a connection to my family, to the narrative of my life, my parents' lives, my grandfather's stories...and breakfast is the very beginning and the base for everything during the day, which makes it unique.

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PostedFebruary 22, 2013
Authormelissa mcclure
Categoriesappetizers and snacks, breakfast
Tagsbreakfast-palooza!, breakfast for dinner, appetizer, turkey, sausage, turkey sausage patties, biscuits, papa, Texas, rancher cuisine, food is love, caring is sharing, coffee is morning soup, recipe
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blueberry drop biscuit cobbler and buttermilk ice cream: Bon Appetit, badass upgrade

I'm typing to you large and in charge from business class on my flight to JFK. Yes, it would seem that my August Humble-Pie-a-polooza is off to a pretty great beginning. I mean there's pomegranate hand soap in the lavatory, for shizsakes. That alone was worth waking up at 4.30am and having the Supershuttle driver text while he drove the entire expanse to LAX with the A/C off. Though it was kind of like a little eastern european adventure all its own, with his smoking outside the van, crappy attitude and the general pre-dawn steam bath ambiance. 

If I had thought, even for a second, that the slightest hint of a possibility of an upgrade existed for me, I may have passed on the $15 La Brea Bakery panini I bought right before I got to the gate. But as it is, I've had two fat breakfasts and a bloody mary (two turntables and a microphone!) before 10am and there's wifi and a footrest and a tablecloth and I must look like the biggest rube ever to fly taking pictures and grinning ear-to-ear like I just won the flipping lottery. It's like I've never even seen a plane before. It's no surprise that the guy next to me gave me the side eye an hour ago and is pretending not to speak English.

I was sitting in my coach seat when the flight attendant came to my seat, and, addressing me using the very proper sounding "Ms. McClure" (is my stepmother in the row behind me?), told me that I had been given a seat up front. It must be a good omen for what I'm sure is going to be an anxious few weeks for me, right? But here's the thing, I can't help but remember the other times I've been unexpectedly upgraded on my out-bound flights and how those trips kind of blew up in my face.

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PostedAugust 7, 2012
Authormelissa mcclure
Tagshumble-pie-a-palooza!, recipe, Barcelona breakup, sweet biscuits, Evil College Boyfriend, upgrade, Crocs of s*&t, adventure, soupapalooza!, blueberry cobbler, stagiaire, pack your knives and go, biscuits, dessert
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roasted corn, okra & smoked turkey stew with chive biscuits: when the common denominator in bad semi-blind dates is you (and by you I mean me)

I blame it on the rain. Or on Vanilli Willie for aiding in the unleashing of that song on us all and just for being an easy, funny target. But just a week ago last Monday it was 113 degrees, and this Monday it was 59 (that’s a 54 degree difference) and now it has been raining enough to leak through my skylights and create a little stream inside my loft. Almost nothing is better than the seasons changing, especially when you live in a completely season-less city, but when it rains it pours.

And almost nothing helps a girl’s dating life out more than a national magazine article that uses the word “Single” to describe her and uses an overly flattering photograph of her chopping prop herbs (did you SEE how I was holding that knife? It’s lucky I have fingers at all). Really. It’s been the best personal ad anyone has ever imagined. Screw piña coladas and getting caught in the rain. The only glitch: the girl.

Here’s the thing. I have been moping more than dating recently and I am totally out of practice and off my game; if you read about the One Night Stand-Up you even know that sometimes a date with me is not only emotionally painful, but physically so. I have friends because they stick around long enough to get to know me (I am highly contextual), but, as evidenced in these here little pages, I would say I am not so adept at the first (and sometimes second or third) impressions thing when there is a chance of romance. I get super nervous, usually drink waaaaaayyy too much and say things that no girl should (I like to announce that I don’t even have a savings account, because nothing says successful, independent woman more than that). And, as the Guy I went out with on Monday night said, I like to under-promise and over-deliver, minus the over-deliver part.

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PostedOctober 6, 2010
Authormelissa mcclure
Categoriesappetizers and snacks, soup
Tagschive biscuits, smoked turkey leg, okra, recipe, soupapalooza!, herbs, second dates are hard to get, One Night Stand-up, Vanilli Willi, turkey, Soup and the Single Girl, soup, biscuits
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goldsmith, sometime costume designer and badass cat owner. 

goldsmith, sometime costume designer and badass cat owner. 

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Why? Because soup is cheap, delicious and easy. Kind of like me.

a weekly attempt to eat well and to savor life. or to see how much food I can get on my clothes.

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