Queso Fresco Coleslaw

Once upon a time there was a girl of German descent living with a boy of Italian descent in the desert of the American Southwest.

Boy and Girl enjoyed eating Thai food, drinking Mexican spirits, and cheering for Canadian hockey teams.

One day girl decided to get back to her roots and whip up some coleslaw. Boy was on board – he liked to live dangerously. Achtung!

And the time was right. Spring had sprung (Girl knew it to be true because she had started craving fresh fruits and veggies instead of chicken nuggets and Hot Pockets):  the last of the winter cabbage crop was still robust, and local farms were bursting with fresh, fragrant Spring onions.

The clock read ‘coleslaw’, and Girl was on the stick.

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Vegetarian Texas Frito Pie

An Open Letter To The Makers Of Fritos

Dear M/M Frito,

Please stop making Frito chips so addictive. Please. I’m asking you nicely.

You’ve clearly put some time into making and marketing your product. And that’s just fine. But now I’m in need of some assistance and support, and you’re in a position to help.

Allow me to hit you with some knowledge.

Imagine sitting down with a bag of Fritos to a reality TV marathon (I’m seeking assistance elsewhere for my new X Factor addiction). Innocent enough.

You’ll just have a few of those chips, right?

You would never supplement that first bag of Fritos with a second bag of Fritos. No sir. No way.

So why are you waking up from your sweet dreams of Simon & Paula banter with a Frito mustache? And why is your head delicately cushioned by a pillow fashioned from Frito bags?

Why?

Shame spiral.

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Migas: Back Home Breakfast

Coming home from vacation is so hard.

Why is there so much junk in the mailbox?
Why is there so much laundry on the floor?
Why is there nothing but condiments in my refrigerator?
Why is my dog attacking my travel loofah?
Why did I think I would need a loofah just for traveling?

Whatever.

I guess I have to stop sleeping until noon.

I suppose I’ll have to start reading something other than Us, People, OK! and In Touch.

And you’re probably going to tell me that I can’t keep eating mimosas and brownies for breakfast.

This stinks.

I’ve got to do something here.

Action must be taken.

I need to pull myself out of this back home bell jar.

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