2011: Let's Get This Party Sharted.

I don't know what it is about the new year that makes everyone decide to throw their money down the nearest 24Hr Fitness' toilet, eat nothing but water and dust (<-- that vid made me lose my shit the first time I saw it), and swear up and down how they're going to be a better person.


It seems like I've come across a bevy of emo blogs lately that are all about how shitty life is. I get it, sometimes life reeeeeally sucks. Mine included. But if there's one thing I don't want to read about when life hands me shit it's someone else's unhappiness. I lurk on other people's blogs because I like to read hilarious/ interesting/ gossipy shit and I assume that's why other people come to my blog. So I'm not going to bore you with sad tales from yesteryear.


Instead, I'm going to share my master plan for 2011 and why it's going to rock my fucking face off.


1. Being proactive about my guts. I'm taking vitamins, Lactaid, and Oil of Evening Primrose RELIGIOUSLY. "Oil of Evening Primrose? What's that for, TILTE?" Well, all symptoms seem to be pointing to endometriosis up in my shit and since I don't want to pay the $300 copay for a Colons Gone Wild video, I'm just going to assume that's what it is. Oil of Evening Primrose is supposed to help ward off that fucking monster that rides the party train all around my insides every month and makes me want to hari kari my brains out. So far it seems to be doing it's job. Fingers crossed, mother fuckers.


2. Staying on top of my blog. Shit happens all the time that I take pictures of and have a good chuckle to myself while saying "Ohhhhhh man! I can't wait to share that with my best friend, Blog!!!" And then one tivo'd episode of Judge Judy later and it's forever erased from my memory bank. This year I want to up my facebook group members, get some commentary going (don't be escared- I LOVE facebook comments) and DEFINITELY get my blog followers to the big fucking 100 milestone. (To all you secret lurkers- I see you stopping by. I see your visits from Prior Lake MN, Ridgecrest CA, Mcminnville TN. It's time to join the club already. Unless you've already joined. In which case, thanks for joining.)


3. Experimenting in the kitchen. No, I'm not referring to crazy shit like drugs or placentas. These past few months I've really enjoyed trying out new recipes. Some have been winners, some have been losers, and some have been WTF's, but I realized that I fucking love cooking, baking, eating, sharing, and repeating. This is going to be the year of TILTE in the Kitchen. In related news, it may also be the year of Small Kitchen Fires, Accidental Food Poisoning, and Antacids: A Hero in the Making.

2011, I'm ready for you, you sonuvabitch.

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Forget World Peace. I Want Material Goods.

The week leading up to Christmas was crazy busy and I originally wanted to break this post up into like three entries. But since I was super busy doing work stuff (lame, I know), and wrapping gifts, and stressing about last minute purchases made on Amazon.com that hadn't yet arrived, shit got put on hold. Sidenote: Never order an apron online, no matter how attractive the print seems to be. Because when it arrives on your doorstep on Christmas Eve and that "print" turns out to be handcuffs, guns, and half naked Betty Page style girls, your 65 year old mom will be too embarrassed to hold up her new gift for everyone to have a laugh.

Get ready for like a brazillion photos of Christmas with TILTE...


Doing a little thing I like to call "Making Christmas Chains". I'm sure you've never heard of it before.

"No pictures while I'm decorating the tree. JUST KIDDING. Take like 50."

My Circus of the Stars decorations.

I got to visit with Kosmo the Wonderpup!!! Except his name was changed to Bosco. Sadz... but he looked happy in love with his new home, so not really sadz.

Holiday cookies made from MUTHA FUGGIN SCRATCH, Y'ALL.

Santa Barbara coast on the way up to boyfriend's family's house.

Remember Thanksgiving loose-tooth-girl? She's still holding strong.



Christmas Eve dinner with boyfriend's family. Not featured in this photo: The oyster I attempted to eat and then proceeded to spit out. I guess my palate isn't quite as refined as I thought. Hm... That's weird.

Season appropriate beverages.

Awww, TILTE and boyfriend!

"Merry Christmas!!"

"...I'm taking pictures- BEAT IT."

My holiday paper. Love it.


Biscuit guarding her Christmas loot.

TILTE with mom and sister. Note: This is the same sister who made the pterodactyl poop sweet potatoes. She wanted me to clear up any misconceptions based on her last appearance by stating that she is NOT, in fact, a dude.

You can thank The Vegetable Assassin for this festive liquory drink, the Snowball. It consists of Advocaat and 7-Up with two cherries on top and tastes like an orange creamsicle. Be forwarned: It is not for the lactose intolerant. Or anyone with egg allergies. Or anyone who doesn't want to gain 40lbs in 5 minutes.

Favorite gift given: Gin and Titonic Ice Cube Tray. We even added a drop of blue food coloring to the water before freezing. You know, to make it more realistic.

Favorite gift that may-or-may-not have been purchased for someone else and I decided to keep it instead and learn how to play Twinkle Twinkle Little Star: Accordion.

There you have it. I hope your holiday was as festive and carb-riddled as mine was. Or that you at least enjoyed your brand new slipper socks with the grippies on the bottom.

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Your Chins Will Thank Me Later.

The recent dramatic turn in southern California weather took its toll on me this past weekend. I was forced to stay indoors and live life like an Amish person- lighting candles and watching 48 Hour Mystery and Bridezillas.

However, I did manage to use the weather to my advantage by creating kitchen magic with my world famous Breakfast Casserole.

Ingredients:
16 oz. package hot pork breakfast sausage
10 eggs, lightly beaten
3 cups milk
2 teaspoons dry mustard
1 teaspoon salt
6 cups cubed bread (I used a country levain, crusts removed)
4 oz. (1 cup) shredded pepper jack cheese
4 oz. (1 cup) shredded sharp cheddar cheese
1/2 teaspoon black pepper
1/2 cup thin-sliced green onions

Directions:
Preheat the oven to 325°F.

In a large skillet, cook sausage over medium-high heat, stirring frequently until thoroughly cooked and no longer pink.

In a large mixing bowl, combine eggs, milk, mustard and salt; stir well.



Distribute half the bread evenly in a buttered 9″ x 13″ x 2″ baking dish. Sprinkle with half the pepper, half the cheese, half the sausage and half the onions. Repeat layering using remaining bread, pepper, cheese, sausage and onions. Pour egg mixture evenly over casserole.

Bake uncovered for 60 minutes, or until eggs are set. Tent with foil if the top begins to brown too quickly.

NOTE: May be assembled ahead and refrigerated up to 12 hours before baking.


Okay, so here are some sidenotes from when I made it...

-I used regular, instead of spicy, Jimmy Dean sausage (because I didn't want to have asshole burnout). I also crumbled it apart into the pan before cooking it so it wouldn't cook into one big fucking meatball.

-I used like 3/4 of a loaf of day old french bread, crusts on.



-I went easy on the green onions because it seemed like there was going to be a shit ton in it. But after cooking and eating, I realized I totally could have used them all.

-I cooked for 60 min uncovered, but the inside texture was too gooey and made my mouth say "wtf", so I covered the casserole with foil and cooked for an additional 15 minutes on 400.

As noted above, this recipe can be prepared up to 12 hours before cooking, which makes it the perfect meal for Christmas morning. And by Christmas morning, I really mean any morning because this shit is delicious.

Boner'ppetite.

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The Holiday Where the White Man Stole America.

I'm sure everyone enjoyed their Thanksgiving get togethers and I'm sure I could post 85 photos of autumn leaves and cornucopia that would look just like everyone else's. But I'm not going to do that to you. Instead, I'll just share some of the precious moments that may or may not have made my day a little more tolerable.

First we'll start with dinner at boyfriend's family's house.

I'm not a fan of deviled eggs... or pickles... or olives, for that matter (cheese and salami, that's another story). But this spread looked too retro and "holiday" to pass up.

A bottle of wine that comes with its own coonskin cap. If the drink sucks, at least you have a fascinator for your next Davy Crockett themed party.


It's almost impossible to enjoy Thanksgiving when you have a loose tooth and everyone within a 10 mile radius is trying to get their mitts on it.

Thanksgiving dinner #1: A meal fit for a king. And by king, I mean pig.

That's right. Three slices of pie in one sitting. Read em and weep.

An after dinner digestif, if you will.

Next. On to dinner with the Insane in the Membrane family. Only half of the TILTE bunch made it to the festive Horn of Plenty holiday because either A) we don't like each other, or B) we're too lazy. Which is totally fine with me because that means less effort pretending to be interested in stupid stories, less eyeballs bleeding from football on the living room TV, and less lurking on kids who you know are up to no good. I'm sure it was the same in every house you were in and you all know exactly what I'm talkin bout.

I attempted boyfriend's sister's recipe for Sweet Potato Casserole. Only, I forgot to check and see if we had the necessary utensils. No potato masher on hand? No problem. Use anything you have laying around the kitchen.

My Sweet Potato Casserole: Looking perfect.

My sister's Sweet Potato Casserole (that she forgot under the broiler): Looking like a pterodactyl did a drive by pooping. (click on photo for close up- it's better that way.)

Thanksgiving meal #2. My casserole success (along with casserole angel).

My BEAUTIFUL MADE-FROM-SCRATCH apple pie. :::hearts all over the fucking place:::

Unfortunately, that is NOT apple pie throw up. It's the inside of my beautiful pie. I've tried this recipe twice now and both times the apples have become obliterated. This is no fault of mine and I obviously blame the recipe.

There you have it. Stay tuned for "Christmas with TILTE". It should be equally nail-biting.

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Fondue.

Last night, handsome boyfriend (that's right, I said boyfriend) came up with the wicked idea of having cheese for dinner. :::Match.Made.in.Heaven::: He researched some recipes and even stopped at the store ALL ON HIS OWN to pick up the goods for a fancyass fondue.

Ingredients:
8 ounces shredded cheddar cheese
8 ounces shredded emmental cheese (we subbed Swiss)
1 clove garlic
1 (12-ounce) can beer
2 tablespoons flour
1 teaspoon salt
Pinch pepper
French bread, cubed, for serving

Directions:
-Combine all ingredients except bread in a fondue pot; heat until melted, stirring occasionally.
-Serve warm with French bread. (We also ate it with apple slices. Delicious in my mouth AND totally healthy too. Fuck yeah.)


Ingredients you will need. -Minus the flour. Why? Because I forgot it. Sue me.

Quality pix taken with a REAL camera and NOT taken with an iPhone camera.

Attempting the iPhone. (So sad to my eyeballs...)

Cheese is starting to melt. Along with my heart.

I know what you're thinking. Yes, I'm growing my bangs out. No, I am not Joyce DeWitt.

(Joyce DeWitt. NOT TILTE.)

MmmMmmMmMmmm... Dinner is served. (It's important to note that your fondue will cool the millisecond you unplug it from its heat source. This results in knuckle-deep, trowling of your bread as the cheese instantly hardens. Lesson learned: Eat fast, fools.)

Strapping on the old feedbag. (I'd like to clarify- that yellow thing I'm wearing is a tank top, and not my bra. It's cold and I like to wear layers, ok.)

Since this was a fanciest of fancy dinner that would have made Robin Leach foam at the mouth with jealousy, we decided to serve it up with a Framboise Lambic. If you're never tried it before, Lambic basically tastes like Martinelli's flavored apple cider. Only it's a beer. It's sold at World Market and I expect all of you to be getting Lambic shitfaced this weekend.

Try this dinner out at your next rendez-vous and your friends will think you are a time-traveling master chef from the 70's. (PS: This was the only close up of me where I didn't look like a prime fucking candidate for a LifeStyle Lift. And if you don't know what that shit is, google it and then cry for me.)

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