Creamy Avocado & Egg on Toast

Ever since seeing a tiny, seemingly insignificant “what I ate” Instagram of this sandwich on another blog I’ve been thinking about making it myself. The richness of the egg coupled with the creamy textured avocado, pressed sloppily between seedy whole wheat sourdough bread, makes for a fantastic quick and easy meal.

For sides I added some cucumber slices for crunch, and cherry tomatoes with balsamic vinegar  for a little acidity. 

I rarely buy avocados anymore as I happen to live with a bonafide avocado hater (he asked I bold “hater”), but I grew up eating “avocado sandwiches” on potato rolls, and the fruit has a special place in my heart. In case that warrants more of a description: (1) 1 avocado smashed on 1 potato roll. (2) Eat vigorously before it “poops” out the back of the roll.

My love of avocados was restored tonight. I am going to make variations of it all. summer. long.

And for that, Steven, I am sorry.


Oatmeal Raisin Walnut Cookies

Favorite kind of cookie: Oatmeal Raisin Walnut

Favorite way to make ’em: Like this.

Favorite way to eat them: Warm, with ice cream.

Lord help me I’ve eaten a lot of these suckers today. If you can believe it, I was making them for someone else, out of the goodness of my heart. If you can also believe it, I was simply “testing” them to make sure they were delicious.

I’m meticulous in the kitchen. I am to be admired, really. Admired.

Marinated Grilled Vegetable Kabobbies

[You thought that said “boobies,” didn’t you?]

The best thing about being a vegetarian is that drinking the marinade isn’t against the rules. It’s frowned upon and “gross,” but I try not to let that stop me.

Grilled Vegetable Marinade:

  • extra virgin olive oil
  • balsamic vinegar
  • dollop of Dijon mustard (heavy-handed if you know what’s good for you)
  • 2 cloves garlic chopped
  • 1 tsp of honey
  • salt & pepper

I usually stick to 3 parts olive oil for every 1 part vinegar. It’s not hard and fast or anything, and such precision won’t make a lick of difference for this marinade, but it’s worked for me so far. Also, I will just go ahead and let you be a grown-up and pick your own vegetables.

There is just something about grilling on the patio while your new neighbors have a loud, drunken shindig on a Sunday night that makes you feel like city folk.

Feels like home already.


The Pink House

We are officially all smiles and sore backs here at the Pink House! While there are still a few home improvement-related projects in the works (a new kitchen ceiling fan, and some organization fixtures [aka hooks]), I am happy to report we are settling in quite nicely.

Every moment from when we started packing until this very one was absolutely exhausting, and it’s so nice to finally be here. I’ve always loved the inspiration that comes from living in a new space.

[And yes, that is a picture of a trashcan. It is, quite possibly, my most favorite possession now. Am I old?]

For our first night alone we grilled marinated vegetable kabobs, and after days of carry-out, it sure did feel good to get back into the kitchen.

Well, outdoor kitchen anyway.

I hope you all had a glorious weekend full of not carrying large things and home-cooked meals. To those of you who helped us put together furniture, hang pictures, and unpack – we love you. We’re totally busy the next time you move – but we love you!


Salsa: Three Ways

Or what they came to be called: “Regular, Green, and Fruit.”

Chopping is an incredibly calming and even therapeutic activity for me, especially with a low-stress recipe like salsa. Steve and I migrate to our respective chopping spots in the kitchen, divvy up the work, and get to it – he, the hot peppers, and me everything else.

So after making the Tomatillo Salsa with Black Bean Quesadillas about a month ago with much success, we got ballsy and made two more variations on the classic dip.

[All three salsa recipes are from Mark Bittman’s book, of course. Because it’s the absolute best.]

Pico de Gallo, Tomatillo, and Pineapple Salsas:

Four hand cramps later we took about 11 pounds of salsa over to a friend’s house to watch Round 2 Game 1 between the Washington Capitals and N.Y. Rangers.

The bad news is we came home with zero salsa, and two stomach ulcers.

The other bad news is the Capitals lost. And it was ugly.

I suppose if there was any good news it would be how excited we are to make different kinds of salsa all summer, with any luck using ingredients from our very own garden. (Herb Garden Round II, I’m coming for you this year)

Now, invite us to your parties. We’ll even bring chips.

The recipe for our favorite (we voted):

Pineapple Salsa

  • 2 cups chopped pineapple
  • 1/2 chopped red onion
  • 1 chopped jalapeno
  • 1 chopped red pepper
  • 1/2 cup chopped cilantro
  • juice of 1 lime
  • copious amounts of salt
  • sprinkle of pepper

– Brit

Bread, Two Ways

Steve made his second attempt at a whole wheat loaf this weekend and it turned out positively amazing.

Standing slow clap, please. 

For me.

I’ve been putting away some serious amounts of bread the past couple of days and I’m exhausted.

This time around the bread was less dense and crumbly (in a good way), and had such a nice familiar flavor. With the first attempt, he separated the dough into two pans for fear of it bubbling over it, realizing afterwards it wasn’t really necessary. So with this batch all in one pan, the top rounded out and crusted beautifully, creating that sandwich bread shape that feels and tastes like home. I have to say, I’m really proud of him. Homemade bread is a process, but I’d like to think the payoff is what makes it worth it. And by payoff, I mean a bread-monster fiancé with carbohydrate rage followed by an impromptu nap on the floor.

[Steve used a recipe from the 90 lb. book he bought in San Francisco called Bread Matters to make a very simple half white/half wheat loaf]

If deliciously dense, covered in butter and jelly, homemade loaves of bread aren’t quite decadent enough, let’s chat about the crispy French Toast we made tonight as part of our Breakfast for Sunday Dinner Movement. I just made that up.

To prevent what has happened the past two Sundays (accidentally polishing off the pancake batter between the two of us), we decided the best policy from here on out is to have company over to share the wealth. Enter Carly & Brian, French Toast Destroyers.

[Slight tweek: Pancake Sunday, for this week anyway, evolved into French Toast Sunday. Why? Because I make the rules around here! And as it turns out, 52 weeks of pancakes might be a bit much.]

We used Challah bread because 1) it’s the best for this recipe (or just in general?) and 2) we weren’t totally sure how the homemade loaf would fare as French Toast. For fun, we experimented with a piece of the whole wheat, and it actually had a better texture than the Challah. However, the Challah still takes the cake for flavor. Ooh, Challah Cake – must find out of this is a thing.

I always have a touch of anxiety on Sunday evenings. It means Monday is upon us and it’s time to be a grown-up again. I think that might be how this whole breakfast-at-dinner thing came about, actually – to give into a bit of regression.

It’s just that nothing brings me inner child-like peace more than warm, sugar-loaded cakes at the most unexpected of times. I’m fat in my head, aren’t I?

The bottom line is French Toast can really help a girl ease back into the work week.

Breakfast for dinner is extremely powerful like that.

Just a dog and his pig…

The new leash and travel water dish went relatively unnoticed, but the cookie and Pig were a hit. Said Pig makes the most unholiest of noises. 

Pig also made it onto the bed a few times (as shown). Pig is so not allowed on the bed.

But I let it slide since it was Wash’s birthday. Turns out, Wash doesn’t understand “special circumstances” and now thinks Gross Outdoor Tennis Ball and Nasty Chewy Rope can come up on the bed too.

I give up.

Until his next birthday,

– Wash + (consequently) Pig’s Mama

Pancake Sunday: Blueberry Edition

Like I said, pancakes on Sunday are becoming a bit of a tradition around here. And thank goodness for that.

The difference between everyday pancakes and light, fluffy pancakes is, in my humble opinion, egg whites. Whipped into stiff peaks, egg whites can make or break a cake. Look at that, I did a rhyme.

I’ve even included a recipe so now you too can have Pancake Sundays. Or even Pancake Tuesdays, should you be inspired…


  • 1 cup all-purpose flour
  • 1 cup milk
  • 4 eggs (separated)
  • 1 tablespoon sugar
  • 1 1/2 teaspoon baking powder
  • 1/2 cup blueberries
  • dash of salt

I’m partial to pancakes on the flat-top cast iron griddle, but I’m even more partial to using what you got. So whatever it is, heat it up to about medium heat.

  1. Beat egg yolks and milk together
  2. Mix all dry ingredients together
  3. Whip egg whites with an electric mixer until you get stiff peaks
  4. Combine dry ingredients and milk/egg yolk mixture together until blended (no lumps!)
  5. Add blueberries (or whatever fruit you fancy, really)
  6. Gently fold in egg whites

Spoon heaping (heaping, people!) tablespoons onto the buttered griddle top. Flip when the bottom is lightly browned.

Fluffy, yes? I know, dude. I know.

Step 7. Bring me some.

I love pancakes.

Flowers for “Brit Kern”

On Saturday morning I received this gorgeous bouquet of flowers as congratulations on our engagement. They were addressed to “Brit Kern,” so I assumed a grandmother sent them.

Turns out, they were just from someone who drives like one.

Shiela lives in Chicago now, but at one point in time, for six antic-filled months, we lived together. Both now approaching the big 3-0 (me just a tad faster), I’d like to think we have calmed down. These days, our friendship exists on phone calls with wine, a quick text, or even a nice quiet dinner when we are in the same city (made possible by Shiela’s “dual residency”).

As much as I miss those days, complete with diet coke & rum all-nighters, 4 a.m. tap dancing, and fake accents, it’s nice to know our friendship is making the trip to adulthood with us.

I wish I could say the truly memorable embarrassing moments lived solely in my memory, but sadly, the Internet totally existed in 2010. Pay attention, kids. This is what happens when you lock two girls in a room with rum, a full closet of clothes, and then tell them to be quiet.

“We’re going to Karma.”

Words cannot describe the hilarity of this night. However, if I find a moment sometime soon, I will most definitely try.

Speaking of Karma, I wonder if they do weddings?

Thank you so much for the beautiful flowers, Shiela. It was thoughtful and sweet. Nothing like how you are in real life.

“Friendship is born at that moment when one person says to another: “What! You too? I thought I was the only one.” – C.S. Lewis

– Brit AKA “Boots”

Could you give me a paw with my hat?

OK, so we don’t technically know Washburne’s real birthday, but for all intents and purposes, it’s today. Rejoice!!

Exactly one year ago we brought this little guy home. And I haven’t made it to a weekday Happy Hour since.

He jumps on strangers, endlessly licks our faces, humps vigorously, pulls relentlessly on the leash, and barks at other dogs.

But we love him just the same. If not more.

And to prove it, we spent almost $100 on him to celebrate this very special day. We are the worst kind of dog people.

Happy Birthday, little buddy. We love you.

– Lady Who Lets You Sleep On Her Feet & Dude With The Leash