I hate the idea of bread pudding but love the taste of it. Because of this, I usually don’t make it. But in a bind the other day for a breakfast recipe, I whipped up a batch of individual cinnamon roll bread puddings. And they turned out delicious!
Below is a recipe. It’s one part common sense, one part experimentation.
“Flexible” Bread Pudding – 4 individual servings
Remember, I’m no chef. This recipe is meant to be played with – add or subtract as you see fit.
You could throw some chocolate chips in the mix, add some pre-cooked sausage or get rid of the dried fruit. It’s your bread pudding, not mine. Enjoy it!
I’ve been thinking a lot about jewelry these days. Beautiful bobbles. While I love the concept of an uber-large jaguar Cartier brooch, I wonder what I would actually do with it. Sure, you can wear it to bed. But the reason to have such fabulous jewelry is to show it off to all your friends and make your enemies jealous. But llamas really don’t care about emeralds. And goats would probably just eat sapphires.
And then you have to insure it ’cause lord knows we loose things left and right in this house. I wouldn’t put it past those kittens to hit the Crimson Star of Siberia under the GE Clearance Refrigerator in our kitchen. We’d find it years later, I’d wear it to Ruby Tuesdays, everyone would think it was fake, and then it would be put away. And a kitten would find it again.
To all you lovelies out there interested in buying me something beautiful, I’m in love with Cartier these days. Tiffany’s has become too mainstream. There are too many wedding cakes and fantasy tablescapes on Pinterest in Tiffany “blue.” There are too many sorority girls at second tier state schools wearing Tiffany bangle bracelets, clinking carefree against their Coach purses. I don’t mean to hate, but when your shop starts popping up in high-end luxury malls across this great nation, you’ve become a little mainstream for my tastes. Cartier, Harry Winston, take me away. No one on the red carpet says their wearing Tiffany earrings, Paloma Picasso collection.
But I digress. I just want beautiful things. Just like everyone else. I could care less about electronics. I hate Precious Moments. I do like art. And antiques. And jewelry. And wine. While these have nothing to do with the bed and breakfast, or anything with the farm, sometimes you need to think further afield then the pasture outside your door. Maybe even to the emerald fields of Madagascar. Or the asphalt of 5th Avenue.
Owning a farm in the winter stinks. One day there’s snow. The next it melts. Then maybe we get some rain. Then, invariably, the mud comes. And sure, that mud may stick around for a few days. But then the snow returns. Cleaning barns and stalls can be pretty tricky during this ugly winter cycle. Not only tricky, but miserable.
It’s even worse when your animals are on the farm to live happily ever after. It may sound a tad selfish, but you still get up to feed them, carry water to them, and do all the normal chores without being able to enjoy them. They don’t want to be outside any more than I do. When they see me coming, they scream. I dispense food accordingly. And then it’s as if I was never there. At least until the next time they start screaming for food.
And don’t even get me started on their feet. The goats need some hoof trimming. But it’s impossible to do it while it snows. And it can be almost as hard in the mud. You can’t really trap them in the barn either, as they know when they see two people coming that something’s amiss and they scatter. So they walk with over-grown hooves until an opportunity presents itself. I’m still waiting for that opportunity.
So we wait. For the snow to melt. For the ground to harden. For the grass to grow. And for life on the farm to return to normal – when we can concern ourselves with fans and keeping animals cool – instead of working on keeping water unfrozen and chiseling away at petrified donkey manure. It’s only a matter of time, but it would be great to know if was coming sooner, rather than later.