1. Put 2 dozen eggs on the stove to boil.
2. Make sure the pot is full of water.
3. Turn on medium heat.
4. Forget to put on timer.
5. Talk to best friend on the phone for over an hour.
6. Go investigate strange popping noises from the kitchen.
7. Remember the eggs!
8. Turn off burner.
9. Turn on exhaust fan to remove smell similar to burnt popcorn.
10. Remove eggs from burning pan with tongs. Let cool.
11. When eggs are cool enough to handle, see what damage has been done.
12. When pan is cool enough to handle, add soapy water and scrub.
13. Make smoked egg salad (or throw away).
14. LOL

(P.S. This is not a recipe I would recommend for the family cookbook!)

Happy cookbooking anyway,

Matilda

Chocolate banana split cake

Two of my favorite flavors are chocolate and banana. I don’t usually eat them together, but one day last week I had a desire for a nice slice of chocolate cake. There were two bananas on the counter (sorry, banana trees are for monkeys), so I thought why not make that Chocolate Banana Split Cake my cousin, Jean Brown Craft Batts, raved about a few years ago.

It just so happened that the local ladies club was having a dessert social that day and had invited members to bring a favorite sweet to share. Thank goodness! I really didn’t want to have to eat the whole Chocolate Banana Split Cake by myself. Read the rest of this entry »

We all have our moments, and today I had one that’s too good not to share. This morning I was thirstier than usual, and really wasn’t in the mood for a cup of decaf or green tea after my workout. So I thought, instead of just water, how about one of those cold, fancy frappe-type iced coffee drinks instead?

I’ve had these iced coffee drinks at the coffee bars. I’m a cookbook software entrepreneur, and I’ve been around long enough to be able to figure out how to do this simple iced coffee beverage and not have to run out to get one for around $40 dollars a gallon (and we think gas prices are high). Read the rest of this entry »

“Honey, you don’t want to get feathers in the salsa,” I shouted to Ruth over the song “It’s Raining Men.”

It was a Red Hat party, and Ruth was drinking a daiquiri. It was virgin, but the grandmother of seven still seemed a little dizzy. Maybe it was the Chippendale dancer beefcake strutting on the stage in front of her. She pulled her red feather boa away from the dip. “It could only improve it,” she giggled. “Honestly, Sharon makes a much better salsa. Her trick is to use fresh pineapple.”

This wasn’t exactly a Red Hat party, to be honest. There were only ten of us. The real Red Hat party was in three weeks. We were supposed to be the Red Hat Party Planning Committee, but as is often the case we were easily distracted.

Sharon set a folded dollar bill on the stage and smiled smugly. I think it was about the salsa compliment, but it might have had something to do with the blond hunk with the rock hard abs who’d just wiggled in front of her. She was the one who convinced us “The Official Red Hat Party” Organizing Party of the Red Hat Party Planning Committee had to happen in front of male strippers.

“You know,” she said, “we ought to use Matilda’s software to make a cookbook for the upcoming party.”

I was stunned. I hadn’t thought we’d actually get around to talking about the “real” party. But I was also ready. “Well,” I said, “I’ve got a template designed with lots of red hats in it. Nice and red and purple. It’s not officially endorsed by The Red Hat Society or anything–”

“Neither is Butch over there!” Ruth blurted, her eyes fixed on a very uncomfortable-looking thong.

“–but,” I continued, “I think it’d be perfect. We’ll ask everybody to email each other their favorite recipes, and we can vote on which ones we’ll put in our Unofficial Completely Unauthorized Underground Illegal Red Hat Party Cookbook at the party. I’ll take the recipes we decide on there and get a cookbook done in a week or two.”

Ruth looked at me for the first time in an hour. She mumbled something I couldn’t quite hear about pineapple and feathers. I mouthed “What?”, and the music cut suddenly as she shouted, “I want that man dipped in salsa!”

Needless to say, the business portion of “The Official Red Hat Party” Organizing Party of the Red Hat Party Planning Committee adjourned in shrieks of grandmotherly cackles.

If your Red Hat group is interested in making it’s own Unofficial Completely Unauthorized Underground Illegal Red Hat Party Cookbook, click here for the template.