Some Nights in Murcia...

Michiel & me, Granda, June 15, 2013

From the streets and mountains of Murcia, to the sprawling boulevards of Valencia, through the magical gardens of the Alhambra, and in and every damn playground we could find from Spain to Romania, my friends and I treated the act of having fun like a contact sport and a drinking game.

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There isn't much to be said about me reliving my college partying days on an epic scale of  international and therefore ridiculous "come home with the sun" proportion, aside from the obvious in that it was a lot of fun . In 10 months I literally drank more beer than I had in all four years of undergrad (because I didn't really do beer in undergrad and had upgraded almost exclusively to vodka once I got to grad school), discovered the upper limits of my alcohol/consciousness limits...twice (St. Patrick's Day was the set up!), loved and loathed la madrugada, and got to know some of my fellow expat friends in awesome, terrible, and hilarious ways.

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Bizzaro Land Christmas. And I Roasted a Chicken!

Christmas Land in Murcia. Polar Bears I get. The Panda Bear...not so much. There was also a clown among other randomness..

So this is a Christmas post in February, and the longer I live in Spain the more it becomes evident that this country is basically bizzaro USA. To be clear, this is not actually my homesickness talking right now--though I would like to point out that homesickness is a very real and insidious condition that seeps into your bones and spreads through your entire existence like a cold, cancerous tumor which poisons your spirit and shrouds you and everything around you with an inky blackness on even the sunniest of days. [In case you didn't know this, I'm a bit of a drama queen. Sue me.] But back to bizzaroland España--a first world country with third world tendencies--a land where the local government thinks it's perfectly acceptable to not pay me for three months at a time, banks and government offices are operational just 5-6 hours (if you're lucky) a day, supermarkets are closed on Sundays, teenagers dry-hump each other against the walls of the convent that's just 4 steps from my front door, and the Christmas holiday season is a mere fraction in size, commercialization, and obnoxiousness that we've all come to know and love/loathe stateside.

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Time Flies When...

You're prepping for your next pole competition! And you spend 90% of your time thinking about said pole competition, mostly because you spend 60% of your time at your sucky job, and therefore can only utilize the remaining 40% of your time to do everything else that life requires of you, which includes, but is not limited to: physically training for said pole competition, obsessing over and spending plenty of money on my costume for said competition, caring for the three animals with which I now reside [obvi my roommate and I split these responsibilities, but either way, it's a package deal, there's no way I can feed/walk/play with/scold one pet without doing the same for the other two], eating pizza/chipotle/scrambled eggs, & whey protein shakes because I no longer have time to cook or grocery shop, "studying" various pole techniques at establishments where women get paid to dance on poles as well as workshops with professional pole artists, sleeping , and some other stuff I can't really remember.

And then your pole competition comes and it was marvelous and terrifying and before you know it, it was over. I didn't place, but I didn't expect to. I was more honored by the fact that I made it to the finals, I had a LOT of fun, and I've got lots to learn/work on for my next competition, whenever, or wherever that may be ;-)

Ginger Peach Pinojito

"Whose leg do I have to hump to get a dry martini around here?"-Brian Griffin, Family Guy

My sentiments exactly, except I want peaches and a wet, vodka martini. Organic peaches to be specific. And I want them to be availalbe all gotdamn year. But sure enough, finding organic peaches in Maryland during the perniciously short season of the peach is like trying to find a pot o' gold at the end of a rainbow--and then paying damn near a ransom sum for it. So that brings me back to Brian's orignial sentiment. Whose leg do I have to hump for an organic peach that doesn't cost an arm in addition to the leg??  Why the hell are peaches only availble (in Maryland) for like two freakin months? And why do I never have the time to buy a bushel of peaches and make any and everything peach to my heart's desire? Why as ask you? WHYYYYYYY?!

These are questions that will haunt me until the day I die. Or move to Georgia. Which will never happen because I am not physically/mentally/emotionally capable of living any further south of the Mason-Dixon Line than I already do. And I can't live in a Red State either. Guess that takes the option moving back home to Jersey off the table, indefinitely. Shrug.

Peach Rum Stunner (Cheers to The Freakin' Weekend)

So the move came and went, and such is my the way of my life, there was drama with the movers. Go figure. 

I'm still very much not unpacked. But today is Friday, and rather than spend my weekend digging through boxes, spackling drywall, or scrubbing tar out of the carpet, at exactly 14:45 I'm boarding a Bolt Bust and heading to NYC for the weekend to leave my troubles behind catch up with some of the loves of my pre and post blogging life. Liz, Maddy, Ellen, Tifi, and all others, please prepare yourselves for tomfoolery, shenanigans, and the strong possibility of public ratchetassness drunkeness.

What better way to kick off the weekend than with a deliciously simple potent potable? Allow me to introduce you to the Peach Rum Stunner. Beware, this drink is dangerous, in the best way possible of course.

And the song goes a little like this:

Peach Rum Stunner
Print Recipe

2 parts dark rum
1.5 parts peach nectar
Bunch Fresh Mint leaves, bruised
Ice

Shake it all together. Strain the ice. Drink your face off. S L O W L Y.

¡Salud!

Samba Churrasco!

I'm back from the rabbit hole! Man oh man, what a rabbit hole it was, and oh em gee am I glad to be back.  I'm still hopelessly behind on my Harry Potter progress as I'm only about 1/3 through book 4...le fret! I'm seriously worried that I won't get through all these books in time to see the movie while it's still in theaters. Not because I'm a slow reader, but because my summer is about to go from crazy to ape $hit, due to the fact that  both of my sisters and 3 out my 5 closest friends decided to be born in late summer, and I'll be a bit preoccupied with dinners, mojitos, and awesomeness. Eh..I'm sure I'll find a way to make it work. Speaking of birthdays, I have yet another friend, whom though is not one of the fab five, also happens to be a summer baby, and celebrates his day with a big Brazilian barbecue. Some of you may remember my first experience with churrasco last summer, which was life changing. So as you can imagine, I was all too happy to celebrate with my friend Max David yet again, as well as eat half my body weight in grilled meats. 

Pear Sour Martini

Hola Guapas! I figured that since I'm probably elbow deep in guapos and mojitos, I would share with the fun. Sure it's not a mojito, but where there's pear vodka, there's a party. Ole!

Pear Sour Martini

Print this Recipe!

3oz Pear Vodka

2 oz Club Soda

3/4 packet Whiskey Sour Mix

Juice of 1 lemon, slice of lemon for garnish

Ice Cubes

Our about 1/4 packet of whisky sour mix onto a plate. Run a slice of lemon around the rim of a martini glass, and run rim of glass in sour mix to coat. In a martini shaker, combine vodka, club soda, lemon juice, and sour mix with ice cubes. Shake vigorously. Pour into rimmed martini glass, garnish with a slice of lemon. Salud!

Meatless Monday: City Girl Pasta Bowl

So I've decided to trademark the term "City Girl", and use it as the descriptor for my "original" recipes that I post on the blog when I can't think of anything else to call them. And by trademark, I mean, I'm going to use that term egregiously, claim it as my own, having done no prerequisite google search in order to avoid having my bubble burst upon discovering that some skank has already trademarked the term and is making a boat load of money by selling nasty food marketed to weight conscious women in our weight obsessed society. ::End mini-rant:: But actually now that I mention it, I probably should look into it, right? I mean, it's a pretty good idea--the trademarking thing--not the marketing of nasty low cal products, right? Hmm, that's something I can mull over before I pass out from a benedryl and white wine induced coma on my flight to Spain tomorrow! ¡Mañana a la feria!

Bourbon Vanilla Blondies + Giveaway= TGIF!

I don't know about you, but it's been quite a week for me. In the last five days, I have seriously considered quitting my job--twice, received my first acupuncture treatment, realized I have no choice but to pursue my plans for an Etsy shop lest I want to go to Spain with my old point n shoot, gotten about 20 hours of restful sleep, suffered through four nightmares, received my package for my CSN product review and found out that a 12" cast iron skillet is really fucking big, realized I lost my $10 bottle of mighty grip yet still attempted a pole split and didn't fall to my death (success pending on LOTS of stretching, mighty grip and a miracle), successfully made brownies and blondies of "insane greatness" and subsequently consumed half of each batch, thereby ingesting an estimated 3000 auxiliary calories that I'm sure will show up on my lower stomach three days before I leave for the beaches and men of Spain AND finally gave in to the feelings that I could no longer deny and admitted to myself and world via Facebook that I'm in love.........with Pauly D from Jersey Shore. Don't judge me.

So let's talk about those blondies. What's a blondie, you ask? Blondies are exactly what they sound like, which are a chocolate free, or "blonde" version of brownies. While a chocolate free version of any form of dessert may be considered sacrilege to some, it's a welcome variation on a American classic to others. I mean, even if you are a self proclaimed raging chocoholic connoisseur of fine cocoa based confections, can you really deny the awesomeness that results from combining browned butter is lust, brown sugar, bourbon, and vanilla extract?? I didn't think you could. Just admit it. It doesn't mean you love chocolate any less. I won't tell anyone. Scout's honor.



Good to the Last Drop



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It was only a matter of time before I ran out of my beloved caramel vodka. Considering my obsession with all things caramel, and my appreciation for fine wine and spirits (read: booze lust), it's actually rather impressive that I managed to make this vodka last for six whole months! This was largely due to the fact that this particular libation held a sentimental value of sorts, as it represented my incredible time in España and Morocco last summer, and therefore was reserved almost exclusively for reminiscing with my partners in crime, Hillary and Alihah (my sister doesn't really do shots...silly grownup she is) and other close girlfriends. But sadly, all good things must come to an end, no? So here's to the Caramel Vodka! We had a good run, thanks for the incredible memories...

¡Salud!

Well you know how the saying goes, there's no use crying over spilled milk vodka? Well I took that literally, and have decided to buy several more bottles while I'M BACK IN SPAIN THIS MAY!! That's right, I'm going baaaaack! I can actually hardly believe it myself. Remember my cousin that we stayed with for part of our trip last year? Well, he was at Christmas dinner this year, and mentioned he was going back "home" to Spain to visit this spring, and extended the invitation. Or maybe I invited myself and he obliged (probably what happened), I can't remember exactly, but those details don't matter because my tickets have been purchased! This time around, our trip will be a little more low key. Rather than traipsing all over several cities, we'll be settling in Sevilla for eight days, half of which will be during the Feria del Caballo--The Festival of the Horse. Apparently, it's a big freakin deal, and most of  of Southern Spain will be the scene of one epic party. I'm so stoked, I literally did a happy dance when I bought my tickets!

Speaking of those tickets though...they weren't cheap. Which means I'm on a 30 day spending freeze, which I hope to extend another 30 days and so on and so forth because, now I HAVE to buy a DSLR camera. I can't fathom returning to Spain and taking grainy pictures with the hot Spanish men on the beach of the gorgeous scenery and all of my food with my little rinky dinky point and shoot. Me being me, I did some research, and have picked my gorgeous future new camera (see sidebar). So here's where I need your help. I need to you remind me that I'm not allowed to purchase non necessities for at least 30 days. That means no clothes/shoes/accessories, no make up (even though I really need to replace my mascara, but that can wait), no non grocery food, no kitchenwares (which means I have to stay far away from TJ Maxx and Marshalls) NADA! I'm counting on you guys to keep me in line, and help me resist the urge to spend, which I'm sure I'll be lamenting about about on Facebook...and Twitter! That's right, as of yesterday afternoon, I totally caved and entered the twitter (so follow me!). I'm working on a few ideas on how exactly I'm going to finance this camera purchase and stack spending cash, none which invovle selling the poodle, details to come in the future!

Oh, and please believe, I'll  be returning with a giveaway gift or two! :-D

Here's to the road twice traveled...

*squeal*

A Timeout Was in Order

I'll be the first person to admit that I have a short attention span. In fact, some would go as far to say I have a mild case of ADD, which seems to have gotten worse with age--and I might be inclined to agree. But I pride myself on being able to focus long enough to get the important things done, especially at the very last minute, because I'm procrastinator. But this week, while working on an application for a possible future endeavor that I won't expand upon, I just could not focus.  Before I knew it, I was staring at my computer Thursday evening, having made practically zero progress on my essays in days.  And so I did what any responsible aspiring young professional did when facing a Monday deadline. I decided to put myself in timeout, threw on my coat and boots, and trudged through snow covered side walks to the fancy wine store around the corner from my apartment.  I figured since I was unable to put intelligent words on my computer screen, I could at least put some quality wine in my pantry, and my belly (cue Ron Burgundy). When I got to the store, I told them what I was looking for, and had a very "Say Yes to the  Dress Wine" experience. I ended up going home a a slightly buttery, unoaked chardonnay and an award winning Chilean Carmenere. According to the woman in the store, it was steal for the price, and she made me promise to come back and tell her how what I thought of it. Upon returning home, I took my little timeout one step further, and marinated a pork loin--details on that later. And then it happened. I had a glass of wine, and the words started flowing. I was able to produce about 75% of my essay that very night. It just what I needed to power through to the next day to complete and submit my application 3 whole days before it was due. Sha-zaam!

I decided to save this for a special occasion

And with my application submitted Friday evening, I was able to enjoy a FABULOUS weekend that included a girl's night out for Baltimore Restaurant week (blog post coming), a ridiculously good pork loin (blog post coming) AND a few surprises for y'all in the near future!

Consider this my apology for my absence :-)

Croque-Mademoiselle

Anyone that knows anything about French cooking knows that it can range from the ridiculously complex and sophisticated to the absurdly simple and rustic. It's what I love about French food. It's also what I hate about it. Those same anyones that know anything about French food also know that the complex simplistic nature of French cooking is what elevates the humble ham and cheese sandwich to the out of worldly goodness that is the croque-monsieur and the croque-madame. I don't know the history of these sandwiches, but what I do know is that some evil genius thought to add dijon mustard, copious amounts of melted butter with a thick layer of a gruyere cheese saturated béchamele on the outside of a black forest ham sandwich, plus or minus a fried egg. What I also know is that when I came home after pole class and errands Wednesday evening, I didn't have gruyere cheese, black forest ham, or the patience to make a béchamele sauce. BUT I did have applewood smoked bacon, shredded extra sharp cheddar, and dijon mustard. I think you know where I went with this. A new sandwich was born...

Ingredients
3 slices thick cut, applewood smoked bacon
1 egg, fried
2 slices whole wheat bread
3 oz shredded extra sharp cheddar
1 tbsp dijon mustard
2 oz rendered bacon fat (bacon grease, yeah son!)
Handful of fresh spinach and arugula
Fresh ground black pepper

On a heavy baking sheet, bake bacon in a 350 degree oven for 12-15 minutes. While bacon is in the oven, toast slices of bread until a light golden brown. Spread mustard on one slice of bread, and set aside. Place a heavy (or nonstick) skillet on medium-high heat, add bacon fat and a healthy dose of black pepper. Add unbeaten egg to skillet,  sprinkle the top with black pepper, and fry for about 2-3 minutes, until egg white is firm. Slide the egg around in pan, flip and fry it yolk side down for 15 seconds to 1 minute (depending on desired level of yolk doneness). When done, remove from pan, and set aside. Assemble sandwich by adding greens to mustard slathered slice of bread, add cooked bacon slices, and top with second slice of bread. Transfer  sandwich to the same baking sheet on which bacon was cooked directly onto the leftover bacon fat. Top sandwich with shredded cheddar, and place into a 400 degree oven for about 2 minutes, or until cheese is melted and bubbly. Remove from oven and top with fried egg, and serve immediately.

I don't think I have to tell you about how awesome this meal was, but I'm going to. It was slap the poodle good. That's right. Whilst eating this sandwich, I looked at my precious Kona, and wanted to slap him in his cute little face. Ok, that's not true, but you get my drift. 

Oh and there's more! Thanks to a dear friend who is home from Japan for the holiday season, and insisted on meeting up for drinks on a weekday, I have a large can of pineapple juice in my fridge. This is an occurrence rarer than Halley's Comet, seeing as how I only keep water, coffee, or booze in my apartment. So I made a potent potable to accompany my profanely good sandwich, and this time I named it.

I can't believe my basil plant has managed to survive for over 2 months!

The Yankee Belle
1 1/2 parts bourbon
2 parts pineapple juice
4 leaves fresh basil slightly crushed
Pour over ice, stir, don't shake

You're welcome :)

Raspberry Basil Mojito

It's official! Every one's favorite lush is back [and in boots]! Remember when I first started blogging, and would pair most of my meals with a potent potable of my own creation, as seen here, here, and here? Well I though it was high time I started putting booze in every other beverage, seeing as how my summer of Spain is long gone and it's only a short matter of time before winter will be here yet again, and I'm still an employee with the state of Maryland. Yeah....all I want for Christmas is a new job and a well stocked bar.

But back to the boozin'. Remember those frozen raspberries that I used to make my souffles and dolci pastelillos with? Well I still had some left in my freezer--actually it was just a few ounces of raspberry juice left that I couldn't bring myself to pour down the sink, and figured I would find a way to use it. I've also always wanted to experiment with a basil based mojito, and much to my amazement my basil plant is still alive. As you would imagine, I always have at least one bottle of liquor in my pantry, and as fate would have it, I still have Raspberry Rum in my freezer. *LIGHT BULB*

I was so psyched when I realized I had the makings of something wonderful, including my brand new mortar and pestle that I got from TJ Maxx for $12. Putting this together took all of two minutes. Pardon my lack of measurements, but this is me you're dealing with, so just guesstimate for your own drinks.

Ingredients
Raspberry juice/puree
White sugar
Basil
Raspberry rum
Cold water

Crush basil and sugar in mortar in pestle into a dry paste. [In hindsight, I would use less sugar, more basil and not entirely pulverize the basil leaves]. Combine paste with rum, raspberry juice and a splash of cold water, and shake vigorously.  [I think next time, I'll use club soda in place of water.] I loved this drink, the sweet savory notes of the basil were like music with the tart raspberry. And it was just so damn pretty! Shades of raspberry are my all time favorite colors, so it's only fitting that I enjoyed looking at this drink as much I enjoyed drinking it.

I currently have some frozen peaches, so I'm thinking of making another peach cobbler and some sort of peach/caramel vodka drink next. Here comes trouble :)

Home to Roost

It's Oprah and Gail's BIG ADVENTURE! Except instead of Oprah and Gail, it's me, Hillary of The Sweet Maple Life, Latoya of the Quarter Life Chronicles, and Keeley from My Life on a Plate! That's right y'all, it's another blogger meet up spectacular. You may remember from this post, that I realized that Keeley is an alumni of my Alma mater, University of Delaware. You may also recall that on several occasions, I've waxed poetic about wanting to invite myself over for dinner at Keeley's. Well my friends, two weeks ago during homecoming weekend, that dream became a reality and then some!

When I realized that the four of us all went to UD and suggested we meet up at homecoming, Keeley was the 'sponsible one who sent out a coordinating email. We decided to meet up at the alumni bar crawl event on Friday night, which netted us alumni scarves, a free drink to start off, wristbands for discounts at all the participating bars, and a waffle breakfast after it all. Booze, food, & bloggers=AWESOME. Meeting Keeley and her husband E was great and the five of us hit it off fabulously. We then proceeded to hit several bars for blue hen themed libations, sliders, wine and more blue booze. We had such a good time, in fact, that naturally I have no pictures from Friday night. FAIL. Buuuut, Keeley, whose a 'sponsible blogger and posted about our little get together in a timely fashion has pics here!

But what about dinner at Keeley's? Glad you asked.

Naturally, during our boozin' and cruisin [on foot] Friday night, the topic of food was discussed, which then led to a discourse about bacon [and my undying love for it] which then segued to a conversation about Keeley's epic bacon mac n' cheese. Or at least I think that's what happened, but honestly can't remember for sure, because I was boozin' hard [I'd had a rough day earlier]. Regardless of the details, the pertinent facts were that an invitation to Keeley's home with her husband and dogs was extended and accepted. Speak it. Live it. Luv it!

Saturday came, and after what used to be an obligatory appearance at the Center for Black Culture's BBQ, but is now totally wack and has been usurped by the tailgate,  we piled in the cars and headed to Keeley's for lunch. We would've gone for dinner, but Hill, Alihah, and I had tickets for Kathy Griffin in Philly that evening. When we got Keeley's, we were greeted by our gracious hosts, her uber cute dogs Milo and Zelda, and wine, cheese and crackers. But this is Keeley I'm talking about here, so you know it was good wine, french cheese, and those good water crackers. And then came the bacon mac n cheese. Y'all know how I love bacon, but I haven't discussed my love of mac n cheese on this blog, largely because I only eat it twice a year when my mom makes it for the holidays. Well, the holidays came early this year, because that mac n cheese was a.ma.zing! It was creamy and cheesy and bacony and glorious. It was so good, I honestly believe that Oprah could give it away on an "Oprah's Favorite Things" episode. YOU GET A PLATE! AND YOU GET A PLATE! AND YOU GET A PLATE TOO OF KEELEY'S BACON MAC N' CHEESE!! The audience would go ape shit, and rest assured I would too.

In addition to the mind blowingly good food, we talked, we laughed, we drank more wine, I learned that I really need to get a Costco membership...it was grand. Before we knew it, it was time for Hillary and I to leave to get ready for our show, and we literally had to drag ourselves out the front door. I considered stealing one of Keeley's dogs, Zelda. She was just sooo cute! But I realized that if I stole her dog, she probably wouldn't be my friend anymore, and that Kona would be having none of that sharing the spotlight with another dog, so I decided against it.

Yet another fabulous blogger meet up. I'm 3 for 3, I like this trend. Keeley and E, I can't wait to do it again!

Oh and btw, Kathy Griffin was hi-larious! She literally has ADD and never finished telling her Oprah story, lol.

Go Blue and Gold!

Caramel Vodka Peach Cobbler

I have a confession to make. I don't like baking very much. It's an ironic thing for me to not like baking, because some of my earliest food memories involve me helping my mom make her awesome pound cake for Thanksgiving, and eating the batter left in the bowl [mmmm cake batter].  Christmas time means red velvet cake, and since my grandmother's Alzheimer's diagnosis several years ago, Odichi and I have been charged with making this labor intensive cake, Georgia style, with three layers and pecans and coconut in the icing. So it's not like I don't know how to bake, I just don't like to bake. Baking requires precision, focus, and patience, three qualities that I famously lack, and don't really have any desire to add to my personality repertoire, in spite of the fact that they would probably make me a better person [as if I need to improve on thiiiiiis].

However, I will occasionally disregard my disdain for baking when I think it's worth it. And two weeks ago, I came across a blueberry cobbler recipe on Keeley's My Life on a Plate blog that made me remember that I love cobbler. Cobbly Cobbler Cobbler. Here it goes down. Down in my belly. Mmm Mmmm Mmm. It was also an oddly cool and grey day in August, which meant I could turn on my oven. I was sold! Me being me, I went straight to Whole Check Foods after work to buy blueberries, and left with peaches instead.  I decided on peaches because I prefer peach cobbler to any other fruit and I'm a diabolical booze hound genius and realized that peaches would make the best medium in which to incorporate my beloved caramel vodka. I also heavily debated between Häagen-Dazs dulce de leche or plain vanilla ice cream. Vanilla won, only because they had the single itty bitty ones in vanilla, and I wasn't in the mood to spend $5 on half of pint of ice cream that day.  Next time, I'm going all caramel though, budget be damned!

Ingredients (adapted from Keeley)

Filling:
7 large peaches, peeled and roughly chopped
1/3 cup dark brown sugar
1/3 cup Caramel Vodka (you know I didn't actually measure it)
2 tablespoons all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon finely grated lemon zest
1/3 freshly grated cinnamon stick*
Pinch of salt

Topping:
1 1/4 cups all-purpose flour
1/3 cup sugar
2 teaspoon. baking powder
1/2 freshly ground cinnamon stick
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 egg
1/2 cup buttermilk
6 tablespoons (3/4 stick) unsalted butter, melted and cooled
1/2 tsp. vanilla extract** (I omitted b/c I didn't have any)


Preheat an oven to 375ºF. Lightly grease a pie/baking dish***

Toss the peaches with the vodka, sugar, flour, lemon zest and salt until blended. Pour into the prepared baking dish. In a bowl, mix dry flour, sugar, baking powder, cinnamon and salt. In another bowl, whisk together the egg, buttermilk, butter and vanilla until well blended. Pour the egg mixture into the flour mixture and, using a rubber spatula, fold gently until the flour is moistened and the mixture forms a soft dough. Drop spoonfuls of the dough onto the filling, spacing them evenly; the dough won't completely cover the filling.

Bake until the filling is bubbling, the topping is browned and a toothpick inserted into the topping comes out clean, about 40-45 minutes, depending on the deepness of your pie dish. Serve warm with ice cream, and eat your heart out. I sure did.

While I thoroughly enjoyed eating more than half of this cobbler by myself [and then rightly gave the rest to my sister], next time around, I'm going to make some changes, mainly in the crust. I like the biscuit like topping, but what I really wanted was a pie-like thick and flaky crust. So now to find the perfect pie crust recipe. For the filling, I'll let the peaches soak in the vodka for a full day, and add some corn starch to thicken the filling. Mmmm peachy...

*I bought a huge bag of whole cinnamon sticks at my local Indian market for $3. I went nuts in that store that day!

**I have yet to buy my Madagascar Bourbon vanilla extract b/c it's like $15. But one day soon...

***I forgot to grease my baking dish. I suck at following instructions. smh