Gloomy Outside, Gloomy Inside

Oh boy. Don't look outside. Seriously, don't. We're all just kind of dealing with the change of season pretty badly today. None of us want to write anything. Some of us might not even want to eat anything. We're grumpy. And I get why. Earth is messing with us. Here are a few things that might cheer you up:

Punch Drunk

The Fred Swayze/Shivery McPickles union turned one year old last month. To celebrate, we were supposed to be in Spain for our honeymoon. Unfortunately, as you all definitely know, my Sidekick had to get - well - re-stacked this summer, so we've postponed. To soothe the burn of having to reschedule our ham and txakoli-oriented trip, we threw a bitchin' party centered around a giant bowl of punch.

If that looks like the sun rising over the horizon to you, it's no coincidence. This mother holds three gallons.

My Sidekick was in charge of the punch. A no-nonsense hell-broth of bourbon, citrus, maraschino, orgeat, bitters and sparkling wine that tasted like juice, went down like water and made everyone's cheeks especially rosy. I was in charge of the snacks.

Let's Have Some Frills

We have begun the Stuffed Eggs section of A Book of Hors d'Oeuvre and I couldn't be happier.

We all know that I love to make deviled eggs. A little bite of filling receptive to any spice you mix it with, held preciously in an edible boat? Uh, yeah. What's not to like? I am, however, relatively set in my ways when it comes to deviling eggs. I have a certain set of ingredients that rotate around each other that are usually on-hand because this keeps my life simple and simplicity is important to me.