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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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potato kielbasa soup: sometimes you eat the potato, sometimes you look like the potato

I had a nagging feeling this Monday morning when I woke up from a sleeping pill haze (an hour earlier, actually, thanks to the time change). I looked to my left and saw Monkey curled up in the crook of my rib and then I heard very loud, concentrated  mewing emanating from Osama Beans Laden, a very persistent, totally annoying rescue kitten downstairs, so I knew everything was OK, but something was off (anybody want a really cute, neutered gray cat--he's 'ca(s)t'rati?)... like in Pretty in Pink when Andie and wacky Iona are discussing whether or not Andie should go to prom. Iona says, "I have this girlfriend who didn't go to hers, and every once in a while, she gets this really terrible feeling--you know, like something is missing. She checks her purse, and then she checks her keys. She counts her kids, she goes crazy, and then she realizes that nothing is missing. She decided it was side effects from skipping the prom."

But I didn't skip the prom, I actually went four times. Granted I never even got kissed at any one of them, so it could hardly count that I even went, but I did take a hit of ecstasy my Sophomore year and I danced up a storm while I tapped my acrylic nails rhythmically on a red solo cup full of rum and coke, so I have that going for me. Which is good. I also happened to wear a silver lamé sequined poufy gown that year and I tanned myself into oblivion which meant the only things keeping me from exactly resembling a baked potato were a of a pat of butter and a sprinkle of bacon bits dusted on my head (ugly but DELICIOUS!). Incidentally, I think the fact that the only thing that keeps lamé from being lame is a french accent. Never has anything been more appropriate.

As I started my hike Monday morning, it hit me. Sunday was the three year anniversary of soupapalooza! and I hadn't remembered.

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PostedNovember 9, 2012
Authormelissa mcclure
Categoriessoup
Tagsrecipe, thanks for souping, potatoes, kielbasa, soup, ritz crackers, soupaversary, sausage, positively piggy, soup with a side of ennui, soupapalooza!, baked potato prom dress, piggy piggy piggy, potato
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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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