kung-fu silicone grip

Tonight, I made the cranberry relish I mentioned in an earlier post.

Usually, I buy the canned stuff, and I still like it. Timber had his own “secret” recipe, and I enjoyed his citrus-y contribution for a number of years. He has inadvertently guilted me into home-made sauce each year. But I must respect his secret, so I had to strike out on my own. Dean & Deluca sell a cranberry-cardamom sauce, but for $25. Um, no. (Quick check on their site indicates that they’re sold out. Whoa.) Epicurious set me up with a reasonable-sounding recipe, so that’s what I made. Lemon juice, honey, apricots, cardamom… and cranberries.

Cranberries are just the cutest little things.  I’ve had them in the house before, but never before cooked with them. I was instructed to boil them until they popped. Bubble, bubble, hisssss… hey! It popped, alright… and spit hot cranberry juice at me! The nerve.

Ah, right, the point of this post. Last Christmas, Mandy bought me an assortment of kitchen gadgets in my “signature” color, red. Potentially the oddest item, a silicone utensil clip, has turned out to be an absolute wonder to have in the kitchen. Forget about gloppy, sticky spoon rests. This doohickie fits right over the edge of my saucepan. It’s heat-resistant and malleable enough enough to securely hold any spoon/spatula/whisk/whatever without me having to sully my counter, stove top, or another dish. The utensil drips neatly back into the pan, and stays within easy reach. It cleans up in a snap, too.

End, public service announcement.

50 Dresses

Many posts ago, I mentioned the idea of blogging A Pair Of Shoes A Day, which then morphed into an entire Catalog Of My Closet. Mostly for insurance reasons, because I’m a fan of vintage wear and that’s tough stuff to replace. Then I did nothing about it.

Erin, however, did. She recently posted her Event Dresses on her blog, villanovababy, and lit the fire under my butt to do the same… or similar, anyway. My collection isn’t quite as large as hers, so I photographed ALL of my dresses at once. Except for the one that’s in the laundry room. And whichever one may be lost in the back of a closet, because I can’t go around having 49 dresses. That’s just odd.