What to do when you don’t get into the bar…

Last night, our friend Bay suggested we go to Rosa Bonheur, an outdoor bar in a park on the outskirts of Paris. After making our way there via taxi, metro, and finally cobblestone streets (in heels mind you) , we were greeted by the world's longest line. Unforgivable. It was clear that waiting to start drinking until we actually got into the bar was a ridiculous concept, so three of our number bravely set off on an epic search for booze. They triumphantly returned bearing luke-warm champagne, plastic champagne flutes, 1664 mini-cans, cheese curls and curiously glitter-stained faces, only to realize that they had been locked out of the park. Bay's suggestion: Hop the fence! Liberty's response: No.Being the good friends that they are, the three inside the park came to find us, and we commenced our impromptu cocktail party.Liberty is...
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Presenting: Daniel’s Birmingham Grits

He obviously needs our help.Soon after he learned that I had started this blog, my very good friend Daniel began pestering me to do a post just for him. I didn't really feel like it, so I tricked Liberty into doing it!   Liberty:    At dinner last night (amidst caviar and vodka shots at a very odd Russian restaurant that I'm sure will be the subject of a forthcoming post), Serena informed me that I had a new friend and admirer: Daniel. Although we have never met, I feel like we have a deep connection based on the number of stories I have heard about him. I hope Serena talks this much about me... Interestingly, Daniel seems to have created a rather hilarious image of me as a gun-slinging southern gal from Birmingham, Alabama, who likes to cook grits.* None of this is true,...
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Roast Chicken with Jus and Signature Mashed Potatoes

Well it's like when I had this garden party for my father's birthday, right? I put R.S.V.P 'cause it was a sit-down dinner. But some people came that like did not R.S.V.P. I was like totally buggin'. I had to haul ass to the kitchen, redistribute the food, and squish in extra place settings. But by the end of the day it was, like, the more the merrier. ~Cher Horowitz A couple of weeks ago, Liberty and I had a “formal meeting” to discuss what I wanted to get out of doing this blog. At first I didn’t really understand why we needed to have an in-depth conversation about this, since I thought the answer was obvious. However, I can now see that this site is not just a stepping-stone towards a kick-ass cooking show and acquiring an incredibly attractive male personal...
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It’s not a party unless somebody gets EGGED…

“If you don’t like my cooking, lower your standards.” –Anonymous Friday night we gathered the troops for a comforting American feast. The meal was simple but with enough gourmet twists to impress Fifi and our guests. We decided to start with guacamole and homemade pita chips, followed by hamburgers (since apparently ground turkey meat does not exist in France) with sweet potato fries and a simple green salad. I’m not even going to attempt to describe the ridiculousness of the brownie extravaganza that was Liberty’s highly anticipated dessert.As far as our guests were concerned, dinner was effortlessly executed. (I have confidently made this assumption without asking guests’ opinions, so if any of them wish to lodge a complaint, they can leave me a note in the invisible suggestion box). Remember readers, as chefs and hosts it is your responsibility to fool your...
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Girl’s Night

The only time to eat diet food is while you're waiting for the steak to cook. ~Julia ChildLast week we decided to have a girl’s night. You know, invite a couple of girlfriends over, braid each other’s hair and have pillow fights in our underwear. (All males please stop reading here).Let’s be honest people, girls love a good feast as much as the next guy. So, every once in a while, gather your friends, and go big or go home. We decided on the totally slimming combo of beef tenderloin, potatoes dauphinoise, and sautéed green beans, and Crowning Glory Profiteroles. It was comforting, it was delicious, and after the fourth bottle of wine, I believe someone said that the potatoes were better than sex. On a bad day, I’m inclined to agree.Read More >>