An artichoke aficionado, a devout lover of roasted tomatoes. A crazed fanatic of kalamata olives. Heck, I'm an antipasto freak. Italian cheeses, meats, and marinated vegetables...it's all so divine. I can vividly remember a lavish new years eve party several years ago that made me the antipasto admirer that I am today. Amongst the many tasty cuisine stations, there was a 3 ft. long and 3 tier high bar overflowing with the tangy, salty, and creamy bites. Ever since, I take any chance to make salads, sandwiches, and smorgasbords inspired by the Italian pre-dinner treats.I eat a lot of chicken. However, the bird can get pretty boring. Experimenting with sauces, seasonings, toppings, and sides, chicken stays pretty interesting in my home.

When life refuses you limes, what do you do? You use limeade of course...Simply Limeade, that is. I'm the first to admit, I usually detest semi-homemade recipes. Most of them require using processed products and eliminating naturally delectable ingredients. And frankly, I don't really like taking the easy way out....in the kitchen, at least. This semi-homemade thing just isn't cool in my (culinary) book. There I said it. Okay, so now onto my first shameful, yet very successful semi-homemade recipe.

I adore the art of gastronomy. Next to my writing craft, cooking is truly my passion. Yet, in the last couple of years, I’ve been forced to revamp my diet so that I may still don an itty-bitty bikini. No one ever said getting older is fun.

Oh yes...it's finally here. The dog days of summer have been long, hot, and sticky. Yet, when the first week of July rolls around, it all seems so worth it. Let the 4th of July celebrations begin! The glorious fumes of charcoal burning, the delightfully obnoxious sound of fireworks booming, and the laughter from friends and family all fill the warm summer air. For a cuisine connoisseur, the food takes the spotlight. I dream of burgers, brats, and beer during those first few days of July. With celebration invitations coming my way left and right, I also think about what concoctions I'll whip up as my party contributions.

It’s extremely rare that I order a chicken dish at a restaurant. You see, I’m always disappointed when I opt for the all-too common and generally unexciting bird. After just a few measly bites I catch myself mumbling, “Ehh, I could’ve made this at home.” Then I feel regretful and let me tell you, nothing is worse for a foodie than “menu regret.” For me, chicken=menu regret. Yet, let me be clear. I’m not a chicken hater. I just think it’s very easy to work with so why spend 18 bucks for a plate of it?

    Guilty as charged. I've been a total slacker in the recipe department recently. You see...the truth is, I've been eating Paleo 5-6 days a week for quite some time now. If you're unfamiliar with this "life-style" you must know that it bans all starch carbohydrates and grains as well as dairy, beans, and peanuts. Lucky for me, I've got a serious love affair with vegetables. Zucchini and spaghetti squash are now my "pastas" while cauliflower and parsnips are now my "mashed potatoes." Okay, you're not impressed. You do recall, however, that I only "follow the rules" on most days, right? Yep, you know what that means: cheat days! However, even with my infrequent rebellious days of dining, I've still been hesitant to create new recipes as I spend all week long dreaming about the food at my favorite restaurants. Cooking insanely healthy dinners five days straight makes me absolutely ravenous for my most-loved Mexican eateries, burger joints, and Italian cafes. But, it was time. I couldn't bear to neglect my recipe readers any longer. With Cinco De Mayo quickly approaching, I felt compelled to prepare one of my spicy and saucy specialties.

0 false 18 pt 18 pt 0 0 false false false    I love eggs.  C’mon, if you read my blog even sporadically, you already know that!  As I’ve said many times before, I take them anyway they’re handed to me- fried, poached, scrambled...you name it.  Yet, boiling them to a dense, pale yellow center is without question, my least preferred way to “take them.”  Growing up, I often requested my mom prepare me a perfectly timed soft-boiled egg. If my soft-boiled egg was one minute overcooked, I threw a fit.  Yeah, I was that girl.  At age 8, I was awfully particular about eggs.  Go figure.

0 false 18 pt 18 pt 0 0 false false false     There is something to be said about hot gooey cheese oozing from the center of some succulent meat.  It kind of makes me giddy…yes, giddy.  I am not ashamed.  As badly as I have yearned for a “Jucy Lucy” recently (a luscious…and very gluttonous cheese-stuffed burger), devouring one of these fat-laden beauties right before bikini season would be an awful decision.  Yet, with the intense Jucy Lucy cravings and a recent and random obsession with Kalamata olives, I began brainstorming.  I had just bought a package of Whole Wheat Israeli couscous that I had been pretty stoked to use too.   I could see clearly now…no obstacles were in my way.   My kitchen would be anxiously awaiting a Mediterranean (cheese stuffed) Meatball creation that my beau would later deem “incredible”- his favorite adjective when his taste buds are pleased. 

0 false 18 pt 18 pt 0 0 false false false            If you’re anything like yours truly, you enjoy burning, puffy lips and a runny nose as you eat.  Okay, chances are, you are nothing like me; for I am a certified weirdo with my passion for insanely spicy foods.  A heat seeker to the point of chaos, I love nothing more than to indulge in hot sauces and spices galore. With my mouth and stomach of steel, I never regret my scorching and oh so satisfying food decisions.  In fact, I tend to toot my own horn for superb genetics that have allowed me to devour a mound of food that would make most cringe and wave a white flag after one bite.  Along with Thai food, where I always order my noodles and Curry dishes “Thai Hot,” I am also a serious sucker for Creole cuisine.  Between my brother’s world famous black roux Gumbo and my delectable and simple Shrimp Creole, I’ve been very fortunate to get my N’awlins food fix on the regular after having not visited the Crescent City in almost 10 years (that little fact is unacceptable and must change soon). 

0 false 18 pt 18 pt 0 0 false false false   A chilly winter night comes rather infrequently in my homeland.  Florida offers very few opportunities for true jacket and scarf weather and most of the time, I don’t mind this sunshine state characteristic one bit.  Yet, my yearning for a steaming bowl of soup is often foiled with an eighty degree December eve.   It is on those slightly chillier nights- those brisk seventy degree nights that I get in serious soup spirit.  With my porch doors swung wide open, allowing the fresh air to make its way into my living room and kitchen, I am in full soup swing.  This week will be one of those perfectly cool weeks as a storm is coming in tomorrow night, bringing a refreshing “chilly front” right along with it.  I am anticipating soup galore in my kitchen and I couldn’t be more ecstatic.    

      I come from a family of Thanksgiving traditionalists.   Dare I try and make any modification to the big dinner; I’d likely get ridiculed.  My mom liked her turkey dinner the way she had always known it to be: Turkey, dressing (the proper term for stuffing, people), cranberry sauce, carrots, peas (yes, peas), rolls, squash casserole and rice and Giblet gravy.  Oh yeah, did I mention us Southern folks prefer the white grain to the white root?  No Mashed potatoes for us unless a guest insisted on bringing the unnecessary savory fluff.  Giblet Gravy, a Southern Turkey day tradition too.  If you’ve never had it, you my friend, are a deprived human being. Giblet gravy is one of God’s greatest gifts to this glutinous November day.

A southern gal, comfort food especially strikes my fancy.  Macaroni and Cheese-bring it on.  Pot roast- yes please. Fried chicken- I just can’t get enough.  Sometimes though, the Americana standard for comfort fare gets a little heavy and a little lackluster. Occasionally, I need a bigger world of bold flavors to truly comfort my tired and hungry soul.  Vietnamese Pho will often do the trick.  A large and in charge, proper gyro has been known to put a smile on my face.  Thai Curry has also successfully relieved some whining.  This Moroccan Pork tenderloin recipe is yet another consoling concoction I frequently crave on a bland kind of day.  With an exciting blend of warm and delightfully dominant spices, it hits your tongue with some positive energy, reminding you that dinner will lessen the pain of a very bad day.

I didn’t even buy a Halloween costume this year.  Disgraceful. Unacceptable.  I’m madly ashamed of my Halloween spirit-or lack thereof.  I had all the plans in the world to dress up as a character I was sure no one else would be.  Had already planned and envisioned the costume from head to toe.  Yet, I did nothing.  Without a single tempting Halloween party and having lost even the slightest interest in hitting the bars in camouflage, I was in complete ignorance that one of my favorite holidays was rapidly approaching.  And then it was just too late.  On Sunday morning, I devastatingly scrolled through my Facebook news feed envious of all of my friends and acquaintances decked out in obscene, sexy and down right scary gear.  Dang.  No Halloween for Les this year.

     Let’s get one thing straight. No arguments allowed on this one people. Tacos never, ever, ever get old.  I think I speak for many with my taco declaration.  I could eat one of the meat and veggie stuffed packages of pleasure for breakfast, lunch and dinner if my body so happily approved.  My genes are great…but not the taco indulging every 5 hours kind of great.  I’m just not that fortunate.

  Fall is just around the corner…I can almost feel it in Florida’s crisp dry air.  I am totally lying.  It is hot as Haiti, the humidity is still plaguing my thin blond locks and my deodorant is definitely working overtime.  For Floridians, fall takes its sweet time getting here which annoyingly deprives me of wearing scarves and boots, planning picnics in the park and taking down the top and windows of my Jeep.  I do not however, let this irritating season dilemma deny my right in making one mean pot of chili.  I simply turn down the thermostat and imagine the leaves turning vibrant colors of garnet and gold.  For those of you Floridians who can’t possibly allow yourselves to imagine such a thing, I suggest you hold onto this recipe until November, when Florida has finally caught up with every other state in terms of season. 

My go-to.  My weeknight staple.  My healthy, fresh and seasonal shrimp salad.  “Cooking” doesn’t get much easier than this.  With the zest from lemon and the bite from garlic, this salad is packed with flavor.  Texturally, it is even more exciting.  Tender shrimp play nicely with smooth Hass avocados, crisp romaine and crunchy corn.  Every ingredient is fresh and every ingredient demands serious attention in this guy-approved creation.  It screams healthy...it screams yummy….it screams summer.  But don’t take my word for it…make this colorful and oh so delightful dish tonight…for summer is almost over my friends. 

I am not recipe savvy. For I am the gal who sneers at the idea of having to put down my spatula, rinse my flour dredged hands and pick up a “how-to” for the cuisine I am preparing. Now don’t be fooled, I often drool over the photos and recipes from my fellow food bloggers, my mother’s torn and stained vintage cookbooks, Southern Living’s seasonal staples, and of course, dishes from my favorite Food network chefs. I look, I drool, I quickly process the ingredients and directions in my little noggin and then I never look back. Modifications are unintentionally and intentionally made along the way, making the cuisine my very own.

My mom was a foodie long before loving food was “cool”.  A South Tampa native, she grew up with her very own mother’s southern kitchen fixins’ and her grandmother’s authentic Spanish specialties.  She adapted many of these family recipes into her very own kitchen, where she’d show my brother and me the ropes around the stovetop.  Never into baking, her signature dishes were drool-worthy dinners.  When complimented on her scrumptious culinary combos, she would laugh and shake her head, not knowing why on earth anyone would praise her for a skill she deemed mediocre.  Although I did not inherit her modesty, I certainly inherited her trim waistline, allowing my love for food to flourish over the years.   I’m going to let you in on some of her tried and true recipes, her simple supper secrets and her all-time favorite things to eat.