I've been researching olives and how to cure them and I've come to the conclusion that making olives is a dying art for a reason.
What a pain...but oh well. Here we go. I'm looking forward to 6 weeks from now when my first batch of home brined olives (all 47 of them...we had 48 but one rolled away when I was counting and I can't find it anymore) are ready to eat.
They better be good.
I can't help it but it's happened. I love this dog. He is always happy to see me, wags his tail, follows me around.
Did I mention that we changed his name again? It's officially Buddy. Buddy the dog. Little Buddy. Buddy, Buddy, Buddy.
He is, though, another male in this little house on this little street and thinks nothing of walking away from me when I'm talking to him.
Fits right in with the rest of them.
See that mug on the table?
Best mugs ever. Had to fly to Colorado to buy them and with what they charge for shipping, I might just need to fly back to purchase 2 more. They are the perfect coffee mugs...your hands fit just perfectly on them.
I've never had a 'favorite' mug until now...and now I get it.
We made homemade ravioli the other night...half roasted pork/sage/ricotta and half raddichio/walnut/ricotta. Hard to choose the best of the two but I'm leaning slightly toward the radicchio ones.
Might have to have another bowl to help me decide.
Making pasta is one of those things I love to do...no fancy equipment needed. These were rolled a tad too thin but other than that were pretty darn good.
It's Monday night. That guy that I like so much has worked all day and again tonight; I've ordered a pizza with the hopes that he'll watch The Bachelor with me. What painful season, yet I've watched every episode.
Why? No clue.