St. Patrick’s Day Post #4: Happy St. Patrick’s Day!

Bailey's Whipped Cream

For your last minute St. Patrick’s Day needs, here is a quick two-step idea to get you to your ideal level of inebriation, and then pass it.

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St. Patrick’s Day Post #3: Corned Beef and Cabbage St. Patty’s with Minty Irish Iced Tea

Corned Beef and Cabbage St. Patty's

Irish Mint Iced Tea


We were running out of light to take the photos for this blog post, probably because we made the iced tea first. And then we made it again. And then a few more times.

It became quite the frantic race as we struggled to plate this dish in an appealing way. Gravy was flung and splattered like a salty ode to the era of abstract impressionism. Towers of patties were stacked and re-stacked on every flat surface in our apartment until each one smelled like fried potatoes. For her part, Sarah twisted her body in every possible contortion to get the perfect angle. At one point she actually managed to squeeze under the table but over a chair and between the wall and the couch. With the way her limbs were bent, it looked like she was auditioning for a part in The Exorcism of Emily Rose. 

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St. Patrick’s Day Post #1: Salted Caramel Irish Coffee with Whiskey Espresso Caramel

Salted Caramel Irish Coffee with Whiskey Espresso Caramel

Unsurprisingly, Sarah and I were having a disagreement.

Because she has a way of convincing me that I should be a reasonably functioning adult, I agreed to be productive and write her some blog posts for St. Patrick’s Day. But what she couldn’t quite convince me of was to go about it like a kindergarten teacher.

“We don’t need to get drunk at every excuse,” was the gist of her argument.

“You’re only right because there’s no need for an excuse to be drunk.”

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“Oh Thank God” (Low-Carb) Coconut Chocolate Peanut Butter Pie

"Oh Thank God" Chocolate Coconut Peanut Butter Pie

Maybe you’ve climbed mountains. Maybe you’ve gone swimming with sharks. Maybe you’ve prayed to Zeus and ascended above mortality so that even your slightest aggravation manifests in airwaves of heated friction which produce daggers of lightning to strike that bastard you work with, or that ex-boyfriend who never returned your favorite hoodie, or those people who walk too slowly in the mall.

But you’ve done nothing until you’ve made and eaten this pie.

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