Lobster Mini Season

It's mini season.....that amazing two days of the year right before actual lobster season starts where we can go raid Biscayne Bay and the Keys for lobsters right before the commercial fishing people can put out their traps.

While you are currently reading this I am out killing mass quantities of Florida Lobsters. Yum.

I'll share more later.....

Happy Thursday. I'll be eating lobster tonight. Lobster that was swimming just hours before. God, I love living in Florida.

Happy Birthday

Today is birthday day. No, not mine (sadface) but my husband's and my stepmom's. So happy birthday to Husband and to Stepmom!!!!

Funny how two very important people have the exact same birthday.....small world. Ha! But it makes it easier for people like me to remember!

Eat some cake! Have a glass of wine! Pretend it's your birthday too!

Kisses to Husband and Linda if you're reading.....Xoxo.

Love,
Blogger Miss Molly

Razzle Tassel

Overbuying? Hoarding? Impulse purchasing? A simple addiction? What is it exactly? I can't figure it out. Maybe I need clinical help.

Sadly, I have a problem. No it's not my complaining, or overeating, or urge to elbow my husband 100,000 times when he snores every night. It's that I'm obsessed with tassels. Shameful, I know.

I have a monster collection of scarves with tassels. I don't know what to do. But I love them all. And I wear them all. Every time I see a new scarf with a tassel trim I turn into one of Pavlov's dogs and start salivating. Conditioned response central. 

Call it what you want. I call it a lovely collection. I'll seek some therapy if you end up seeing me on an episode of AE's "Hoarding: Buried Alive" ---by tassels of course.

From left to right
Banana Republic, Gap, JCrew, Banana Republic, JCrew

Fries.

I have a question. Or maybe a statement. Whatever. I need to know.

WHO decided it was a good idea to open a Five Guys burger franchise one block across from my gym? Some genius I tell ya. Some real genius. Someone who excelled in marketing in business school. Obviously it wasn't me. I'm the sucker on the other end of this wondrous strategy.

I die for their fries. In fact love them so much that I took a picture of them and I'm now spending several minutes talking to you about them. And you think you have problems.

And I love burning approximately 400 calories at the gym only to have my car go on autopilot over to the Five Guys so that I can consume 8,000 calories in animal product and fried potatoes. Swell.

Another question, who is the other genius who strategically opened the Jenny Craig office smack dab next to the Dunkin Donuts on US1 and 27th Avenue? They're all geniuses I'm convinced. And I'm not genius enough to stay away apparently.

If your Monday sucks, eat some fries.

Problems. Real problems. And they involve potatoes.

Orchids

There is a nice man that sells fresh flowers in work parking garage every Friday. Roses, daisies, orchids, you get the picture. I never have cash. I mean I like NEVER have cash. It's a disease. Or as my parents always tell me, "not safe in case of emergency." Ha!

Well now that we are on the subject of emergencies, I came across one last Friday at the end of a rather annoying "just came back from vacay" hellish week at work. Orchids! Gorgeous light pink, blushing cut orchids. 12 stems in all. God. I WANTED. Wanted them so badly that I did a double take on my way to the parking garage elevator. Then, like some kind of miraculous omen, I realized that husband had remembered to go to the bank and get us cash that day before. Hallelujah. This was some emergency indeed. An emergency in need of such attention that I stopped my car on the way out of the garage to purchase these beauties while backing up all the exiting traffic out of the garage (not something you want to do at 5 pm on Friday if you want to continue to have friends at the workplace). Shame.

Happy Friday. Buy some flowers on your way home from work today. I declare it an emergency you do so.

Homemade Sweet Corn Risotto

Last week, husband was in trial prep (aka husband being MIA for extended periods of time and then arriving home with a beastly appetite to boot). I became a sweet wife for the week and made him absurdly time consuming recipes which involved a lot of chopping, dicing and crying because I used insane amounts of onion. The queen of all time consuming recipes equals risotto. The painfully filling kind, which takes nearly an hour to stir, add broth, stir, broth, stir, etc etc.

Knowing that a plate full of delicious carbs alone is the ideal jackpot dinner for me I decided to up my "sweetness" and throw on some protein for the growling husband upon his arrival....shrimps. Yum. But shrimp neatly sauteed in olive oil and garlic. Delicioso.

Suffer through the painstakingly slow and tortuous process of making risotto and make a lucky dinner companion proud. Indulge a little, eat some carbs. Just make sure you have a fab playlist while you're stuck stirring.

Recipe for this risotto found here.

Like I said, stir stir stir

Protein for the husband.

Death by carbs.

Burgled

Yes. Burgled. You might not think it a legit word, but I do. As in "to burgle/burglarize." But past tense. Like on Sunday night. The victim....my car. My sweet, poor little white SUV. Burgled by a vandal of ruthless thieves during a monstrous rainstorm in the middle of the night while sitting in our driveway, in a nice neighborhood. Damages, my iPod. Now I am musicless. Even more sad. And I feel violated. So icky that people were snooping around in my car. Double icky.

Mondays are dreadful in general. If you like them, then we are not friends you and me. But Mondays are even more catastrophic when you go to your car and you find out that it has been ransacked in the middle of the night by a ciggy smoking vulture. Ugh, my car smells SO bad now. Totally icky, like a bar.

So I had to call the police. They arrived in 3 minutes. Taxpayer money hard at work. I was impressed.
Even more impressed by the dreamy looking officer who had to deal with the petty theft I was reporting.
Then they sent the crime scene van to fingerprint. No joke. Yes CSI Miami was happening in our front yard. Awesome. But not awesome enough to deal with the fact that I am now iPodless and have to change all my checking account numbers since I leave checkbooks in my car. Not smart. Learn from me.

Husband so eloquently reminded me that the thieves who burgled me were most likely regretting their theft, and were currently being tortured by the plethora of early nineties dance music on my iPod. Suckers.

Reliving the Honeymoon

It's hard to think that this time last year husband and I were indulging in our wondrously relaxing honeymoon....ahhhh the memories.

We started out at Little Palm Island, deep in the Florida Keys for a few nights, which is probably one of the most romantic and secluded places I've ever been. Bonus, it's about 2 hours from Miami. A private island that you can only get to by ferry, they know your name upon arrival, and we dined nightly on the most elegant cuisine I thought could be possible in the Florida Keys. Bonus #2, the most insanely gorgeous sunsets I have even seen. So dying to go back.....I highly recommend Little Palm.

We then spent another week down in Barbados where indulged the Bajan lifestyle. Yet again we ate ourselves into food comas at the most fabulous Bajan restaurants where we continuously ate Flying Fish and Barracuda (yes I said Barracuda). We even risked our lives driving on the left side of the road in our ridiculously unsafe island rental car just so we could visit the famous Mount Gay Rum Factory....wherein we drank approximately 10 rums each then proceeded to drive the hour back to our resort again on the left side of the road. Thank god I'm still alive. Husband seriously was the most inept chauffeur after this excursion. The rums didn't aid in his driving abilities either.

When can we honeymoon again?

The Key Deer freely roaming on Little Palm. They like champagne.

One of the many gorgeous sunsets at Little Palm

A sunset like this every single night

Indulging at the Mt. Gay Rum factory in Barbados. 

At The Cliff restaurant Barbados. Best restaurant ever.

Doing what I do best.

Let us eat cake

The husband and I celebrated our first wedding anniversary this past Sunday, hence the hiatus again from posting. We were on a boating excursion deep into the Bahamas for about 8 days and I finally got that much needed tan I was craving.

When we arrived back at home on Sunday I promptly took out our wedding cake topper from the freezer and began the thawing process. Although I was a bit weary of how our year old cake would taste, I am one for superstitions, and apparently you HAVE to take a bit of your wedding cake on your first anniversary or else your marriage is doomed. Sadface. So we ate the damn cake. Freezer burn and all.

It wasn't quite preserved properly for its year in our freezer section, and the white buttercream showed that for sure. Blech. It was nasty. The cake....was ok, and it still had some resemblance of its key lime flavor. So husband and I each eat ate a slice, his of course twice the size of mine. This is usually the case with our portions, even if the what we're eating tastes like it was found in the garbage 3 years ago. He will still double up. And this is one of the quirks I love about him.

Hopefully we will be blessed with years of good luck and happiness since I monopolized 1/4 of my entire freezer space for the past year by storing this dessert.  Cheers.

Mango Salsalita

I used to hate mangoes. Yes. This is true. But my mother-in-law's monster beast of a mango tree keeps raining them down and they keep multiplying, like they're the last mangoes on earth.

But now I like mangoes. Want to know why? Because I found this salsa recipe here. It changed me.

Besides all the dicing and chopping (ugh) the final product is perfecto. Plus I get to use all my seriously sharp and scary looking knives that we got for our wedding. Gracias Williams and Sonoma. Sometimes I like to pretend I'm Ina Garten Barefoot Contessa Style and that I can dice an onion in T-minus 20 seconds. But the onion makes me cry. Oh well. Just don't touch your eyes after you chop the jalapeno....

And since when did I start passing out copies of recipes at work to all the elderly ladies I work with? Since this recipe, that's when. And all the old ladies made this salsa and praised me the next day. They love me. Now I'm the 27 year old who passes out recipes like the weirdo guy that passes out Sudoku puzzles to people. Obviously I need to get my life in order.

Enjoy. Husband sure did, he ate it all in one sitting. And since we had no Tostidos left, he just used a spoon. No judgement.