Everyone knows that anything in its best form is supreme. Supreme gasoline, THE Supremes, supreme pizza, Grand Supreme Little Darling and so on.
When brainstorming about what to make for this week of good brunch posts in preparation for Easter, a coworker suggested a breakfast pizza.
The age old label ‘friend of Dorothy’ needs a drastic update when it comes to this pair of kitchen queers.
When people speak of fruit salad I’m haunted by memories of those awful, slimy cups of peeled grapes and other indistinguishable fruit that the lunch lady, Linda, would thrust at me in elementary school.
People always say breakfast is the most important meal of the day, and most people’s favorite part of any meal is dessert.
By now you’ve probably caught on that we are not-so-subtle fans of any and ALL pork products. Especially bacon.
Our Friday nights almost always involve dinner with friends. By “dinner” we mean a half dozen margaritas interspersed with some food, and by “friends” we mean more margaritas.
What’s a better post for queer in the kitchen than a baking recipe that contains key elements to gay culture: fragile emotions, dramatic overreaction, and balls…
Due to our inherent and self-diagnosed chronic laziness, we are always on the lookout for gadgets or tricks to streamline our recipes.