Photo by mmatins, Flickr
I think Ina Garten may be trying to kill me. She looks really cheerful, but I think she’s out for blood.
I’ve been working my way through her cookbooks because everything I make from them turns out so well that I can’t stop myself. Here’s the thing though: everything calls for about a pound of butter. She’s very careful to specify that it be unsalted butter, but that’s not really the issue when there’s a POUND OF IT.
She makes up for the no-salted-butter policy in her desserts by calling for tablespoons of salt in all her main dishes. Again: trying to kill me. She’s not even subtle about it: it’s right there on the page. Every page.
Don’t get me wrong: I’m a huge fan of salt. My family has ridiculously low blood pressure too, so there’s no danger for me in it – except of course if I breeze through my genetic good fortune directly into heart stop junction by adding spoon after spoon of salt to my dinners.
Then there’s the sugar. All her frostings call for one pound of sugar (not kidding, not even a little bit) and half a pound of cream cheese and the same amount of butter. Which tastes FANTASTIC but will definitely kill me in about a month.
Fortunately, the frosting recipes make so much frosting that even a fiend like myself couldn’t possibly use the entire recipe on my coconut cupcakes without being embarrassed. Or still being able to see the actual cupcake. So I cut it back to, like, half a pound of sugar, which, compared to a whole pound of sugar, isn’t much. It’s all relative.
As I see it, I have two options. I can either Paula Deen it up and just own the tastiness until I pass out from diabetes or high blood pressure or coronary failure, or I can dial it back to an Ina Once a Month plan.
*sigh* I love you, Ina. I really do, but I have a child to think about now, and the mobility scooter that is not that far in my future just won’t make it up the hill we live on, so I’m going to have to break up with you a little bit. Sort of. You should definitely drunk dial me though. A lot.
Displaced 
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