The Way Marcella Told You to Make It

I remember cotton candy. I remember one of my little hands in my mother's milk-soft hand and the other in my father's leathery baseball mitt hand. I remember white overalls with paint splotches on them. Wearing pig-tails that fell into ringlets. I remember running toward something, the zoo or State Fair, a spectacle larger than my brand new brain could understand. I remember being swung back and forth by my arms through the air, and my parents being really excited to show me something. But most of all, I remember cotton candy.

Seriously. These are your ingredients.

This is one of my first memories. And one of my favorites. I have no idea how old I was. Maybe three? It stuck with me. I totally abandon all culinary principles in favor of cotton candy every time. There is a picture of this moment somewhere. **(Update: Not just somewhere, after the jump! Thanks, mom!)** Even if it were lost, it's been permanently burned into my cortex.

How to Horrify Your Dinner Guests

Because of my upbringing, I take Halloween very seriously.

When I say "my upbringing", what I mean is this: my childhood house turned into a crypt for the entire month of October and part of November because my mother takes Halloween very seriously. Our front yard was a cemetery. Our windows were blockaded with ghosts and warning signs. Navigating the spider webs in the hallways became an important skill. There was a fountain of blood in our dining room. Doorknobs turned into monster hands. Am I painting enough of a picture for you? Every year my parents threw a balls-out, lavish, enormous Halloween party for 100 of their closest friends. I've decided it's my responsibility to uphold this tradition, albeit on a slightly smaller scale in my adult life. In that spirit: a little Halloween party food porn:

Jerry Orbach's Trifle

Just wanted to share the most amazing, nerdy food thing I've read about today. The Dead Celebrity Cookbook is for sale on Amazon as we speak, and I think I'd really like you guys to buy it. Also, please be on the lookout for my new punk-soul band, Jerry Orbach's Trifle. I am not kidding about this. This is really going to be the name of my (imaginary) band. I created our first album cover for our (imaginary) forthcoming, self-titled EP.

Have I mentioned that a seasonal change makes me a little weird? You're welcome.

When the Grid Goes Down, at Least I'll Have This

UGH, Blogger.

As some of you may have noticed, the post about the epic dinner party of pork in pastry has been taken down. This is because someone at Blogger rubbed sandpaper on their brains and did some "maintenance". I'll rewrite it soon! Until then, here's something I promised to show off: the new thistle that is going to share the rest of my life with me.

Bacon, Tomato, Butter

There is something so charming about the name of this canape: Bacon and Tomato Canapes II. It sort of indicates that, yes, there is another bacon and tomato canape in this book that includes mayonnaise and eggs and olives. But BTCII gets straight to the heart of what you most desire. Bacon, tomato and butter. And on this particular evening, we were fortunate enough to have Mangalitsa bacon.