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Hi There!  Did you know that you’ve found us at our OLD location?  Wouldn’t you just love to join us at our shiny and pretty NEW location?  All the kids are doing it!  Click here!

…and it was so much easier than I had ever imagined.  Like, seriously, what was I waiting for?

Pizza is a near religious experience in our household.  Before we’d even cemented our then-future daughter’s name, or color of her nursery, it had already been decided that Friday night would be family pizza night.  Living in brownstone Brooklyn, the pick of pizza places can seem pretty luxurious.  Want it delivered?  There are no fewer than 25 places that are willing to deliver, half of which will serve you a pie worthy of a true pizza connossieur.  Willing to get in the car?  We’ve got the original Totonno’s in Coney Island, Jay Z-hangout Lucali, Man Vs. Food endorsed L & B Spumoni Gardens, NY Times 2 star rated Franny’s, and, of course, the pizza mecca itself, DiFara’s.

So why would I ever make one?

But then, this new pizza place opened in our ‘hood, Fornino, (which had garnered accolades for their original location in Williamsburg).  Fornino’s pizza is grilled to a cracker-crisp perfection, and the lower heat on the grill allows them to top the pies with cheeses and vegetables that normally wouldn’t survive the heat of, say, an 800 degree coal burning oven.  We’ve enjoyed their pizza on a few occasions, (and not just because of the offspring-friendly widely spaced tables or the fact that they are happy to store your folding stroller in a back room).  On our last visit, however, an idea sprang forth into my sippy cup-addled brain.

“Why, I could grill a pizza at home!”  So, I did.

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Hi There!  Did you know that you’ve found My Husband Hates Veggies at our OLD location?  Wouldn’t you just love to join us at our shiny and pretty NEW location?  All the kids are doing it!  Click here!

Dear Crockpot,

Crockpot, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but people in the foodie community tend to be really down on you. I am not quite sure why you’ve become the Sandra Lee of small kitchen appliances, Crockpot, cause in my book, you’re aces.

Remember that time we made those Chipotle Beef Short-Ribs? Those were like, really really good. Thank you, Crockpot, cause the day we made those, I was at work most of the day, and even though Husband was home, you and I both know that he doesn’t quite grasp the concept of pesky little things like cooking temperatures. (Like that time he tried to cook a Stouffer’s French Bread Pizza at 250F! Seriously, you and I had a good LOL over that!)

I also really have to take my hat off to you for always agreeing to be the designated Cook on Thanksgiving, and keeping the mashed potatoes warm all day so I can mash in the morning, guest-free. Sure, that third glass of Gewertzaminer before 2pm last year may have meant we all ate dry turkey, but everyone commented on how light and fluffy the potatoes were! Kudos, Crockpot. Nice save.

But your crowning achievement yet would have to be the Pulled Pork you whipped up this past Labor Day weekend. I may have called it a night and went to bed, but not only did you pull an all-nighter, you also kept the pork warm until 4pm the next day for our party! The pulled pork (with a bit of effort from me on the whole pulling part…I can’t exactly expect you to do everything) was moist and deeply flavorful – the kind of flavor that you only get when you cook something for like 16 hours. Seriously, Crockpot, I don’t know if there are words to describe your awesomeness.

So the next time you feel that I am neglecting you for Miss Orange Creuset or Mr All-Clad Sautee Pan, just remember – I love you all equally, but in very different ways. (Though, between you and me, Crockpot, you will always be my special little guy.)

xoxo,

Kitty

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Hi There!  Did you know that you’ve found My Husband Hates Veggies at our OLD location?  Wouldn’t you just love to join us at our shiny and pretty NEW location?  All the kids are doing it!  Click here!

Over a month away from you, and the best I could come up with is cole slaw? After the unpacking of boxes and the setting up of stand mixers and the building of IKEA kitchen islands…I come back to you with a recipe that doesn’t even need to be cooked? Well, take my word for it, I have my reasons. For this isn’t just cole slaw, oh no. Because no ordinary cole slaw could ever live up to the spectacular title that is : THE WORLD’S BEST COLE SLAW.

I mentioned to my husband that I was going to be whipping up some cole slaw this past weekend, for our first official day of entertaining in the new apartment, the new backyard, to be precise. Lowes failure to deliver the gas grill we ordered over a month ago meant I was going to have to get creative and come up with a new menu for our Labor Day soiree. I settled on a crockpot pulled pork (coming soon to a food blog near you!), some Seriously Ridiculously Good Guacamole with chips, and this amazing slaw. Well, my husband seemed kind of surprised that I would be making cole slaw, because, as he said “you don’t even like cole slaw”. At first, I had one of those marriage moments – a moment when I was momentarily shocked and appalled that I had somehow married a man that knows me so little, being that I absolutely adore cole slaw. Kind of like how I am guessing he must have felt about a week or so ago, when I told him that I thought he didn’t like classical music. But you see, just like I had never ever witnessed him actually listening to classical music, he had never seen me eating cole slaw, because I am just so incredibly picky about it. Cole slaw can’t be all white and squishy and swimming in watery mayo like it may be if you’ve purchased it from a supermarket deli case or if its served alongside a diner burger in a pathetic little white paper cup. It has to be crisp and fresh and colorful and zingy with flavor…which leads us to The World’s Best Cole Slaw.

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