Category Archives: Food

Frog Eye Salad and Other Foods That Sound Gross (But Aren’t)

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A blue bowl filled with creamy frog eye salad made of acini di pepe pasta, pineapple, mandarin oranges, and colorful mini marshmallows, with a spoon resting inside the mixture.

Frog Eye Salad

When a Name Makes You Pause

How much are you influenced by the name of a food. Have you ever looked at a menu and thought, oh that sounds good — or just as quickly said, absolutely not. Would you try something that sounds, well… disgusting.

Recently one of the food bloggers I follow sent out a recipe for Frog Eye Salad. Yup. Frog eyes. It instantly made me think of a witch’s brew. All it needed was a little eye of newt or maybe a bat wing to round it out. Now, if they said frog legs, I could get behind that. After all, we eat chicken wings and legs, turkey legs, and even chicken feet. Why not frog legs. But frog eyes. I draw the line.

Fancy Names for Questionable Things

And while we’re talking about things that sound questionable, let’s consider eggs. We cook with chicken eggs every day, but I won’t even consider caviar. It doesn’t sound bad, but it’s fish eggs. I can’t. I just can’t. Meanwhile, I do like escargot — especially with garlic, butter, and cheese. Leave it to the French to make a tasty dish out of something slimy, but at least they gave it a cool name. Escargot is much easier to swallow than snails.

Moving on, let’s consider foie gras. Another French concoction. It sounds exotic and high‑brow. How do the French do that? It’s just a fancy name for goose liver. Goose liver pâté. Slap it on a cracker and voilà — a tasty appetizer. Ummm… no thank you.

Halloween Foods Are Just Drama Queens

Bloody Brains for Halloween

Now, if you’re preparing a Halloween feast, you might reconsider that Frog Eye Salad. Remember what started this whole train of thought. Halloween foods are basically regular dishes with dramatic names. A plate of “bloody brains” is just spaghetti with red sauce or a strawberry Jell‑O mold. “Monster eyeballs” can be mozzarella balls with an olive slice. And no one can skip “spider eggs” for a total gross‑out — deviled eggs topped with olive slices arranged like spider legs.

But back to the Frog Eye Salad. Is it a real thing? Yes. Yes it is. And based on the ingredient list, I think it might even be edible. No bat wings required. Not even any frog eyes.

Frog Eye Salad

A sweet, chilled holiday dessert made with acini di pepe pasta, coconut, pineapple, mandarin oranges, and marshmallows.

 Prep Time: 15 mins Cook Time: 20 mins Additional Time: 9 hrs Total Time: 9 hrs 35 mins Servings: 10

Ingredients

  • 1 ¾ cups unsweetened pineapple juice
  • 1 cup white sugar
  • 2 large eggs, beaten
  • 2 tablespoons all-purpose flour
  • 2 ½ teaspoons salt, divided
  • 1 tablespoon lemon juice
  • 1 tablespoon vegetable oil
  • 1 (16 ounce) package acini di pepe pasta *
  • 3 (11 ounce) cans mandarin oranges, drained
  • 2 (20 ounce) cans pineapple tidbits, drained
  • 1 (20 ounce) can crushed pineapple, drained
  • 1 (8 ounce) container frozen whipped topping, thawed
  • 1 cup miniature marshmallows
  • 1 cup shredded coconut

Directions

  1. Combine pineapple juice, sugar, eggs, flour, and ½ teaspoon salt in a saucepan. Cook over medium heat until thickened.
  2. Remove from heat; stir in lemon juice. Cool to room temperature, about 1 hour.
  3. Bring a large pot of water to a boil; add oil and remaining salt. Cook pasta until al dente, 5–7 minutes. Drain and rinse under cold water.
  4. Combine pasta, cooled egg mixture, oranges, pineapple tidbits, crushed pineapple, and whipped topping in a large bowl. Refrigerate 8 hours or overnight.
  5. Before serving, add marshmallows and coconut; toss and serve.

*Note: In case you didn’t know (I didn’t) acini di pepe pasta is a very small, round pasta (about 0.2–0.3 cm). It’s Tender but slightly chewy when cooked al dente.

Let me know if you make it. I’m still struggling with the name.

And while I’m thinking about it, there are plenty of less‑than‑appetizing food names out there. Ants on a log comes to mind — and it’s actually a favorite of mine, though I’d never call it that. To me, it’s peanut butter on celery. Then we can head to England and enjoy Toad in the Hole (sausages baked in batter), same family as our pigs in a blanket. And while you’re there, would you like a dish of Spotted Dick.

There are a bunch more. What’s your favorite gross‑sounding food or meal. Or what’s something you’d never try just because the name is off‑putting. Bring it on. Inquiring minds want to know.

 

It’s National Ice Cream Day- Who Wants to Party?!

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Children walking outdoors in cool weather, happily eating ice‑cream cones, with buildings blurred in the background.

I Scream, You Scream, We All Scream for Ice Cream!

Do you know what day it is? It’s National Ice Cream Day! A totally legitimate excuse to pig out on your favorite frozen treat — cones, sundaes, cups, bars, whatever makes your inner child happy.

A Little Nostalgia

Let’s get nostalgic for a minute. Do neighborhoods still have ice cream trucks? They used to cruise the streets with jolly jingles and ringing bells, and we all came running. We had to get our ice‑cream bar or our little “hoodsie” cup.

Anyone remember the old ice‑cream counters, or am I really dating myself? They were usually tucked inside the local drugstore or a Woolworth’s. You climbed up on a stool and ordered a shake or a cone, and life was good.

Right now I’m craving some Caramel Cup ice cream… and of course my freezer is empty.

Freebies for National Ice Cream Day

A bunch of ice‑cream companies are celebrating with deals and giveaways:

  • Dairy Queen: Rewards members get a free Dilly Bar with any order of $1 or more using the DQ App.
  • Baskin-Robbins: Rewards members get $5 off an order of $20 or more, plus a buy‑one‑get‑one free single scoop next week.
  • Friendly’s: Every guest gets a free cone or dish — no purchase necessary.
  • Dippin’ Dots: Participating locations are giving away free mini cups during a designated two‑hour window.
  • Häagen-Dazs: Rewards members can get a Buy One, Get One Free sundae at participating shops.
  • Insomnia Cookies: Get a free two‑scoop ice‑cream cup with any $5 purchase.

And while Boston isn’t hosting an official Ice Cream Day celebration, plenty of shops are scooping happiness today.

So… What Are You Doing for National Ice Cream Day?

I think I’m going to go buy a quart of my favorite flavors. Maybe two. It is a holiday, after all.

 

Necco: The Candy That Refuses to Die

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The former Necco candy factory in Cambridge, Massachusetts, with its brightly colored pastel water tower displaying the classic red Necco logo — a well‑known New England landmark.

If you grew up in New England, Necco wasn’t just a candy brand — it was part of the scenery. The pastel wafers, the Valentine hearts, the Cambridge factory with its neon sign glowing over Mass Ave… it all felt woven into everyday life. Necco was one of those regional icons you didn’t think much about until suddenly, it was gone.

Necco Wafers: America’s First “Melt in Your Mouth, Not in Your Hand” Candy… Before M&M’s

Necco Wafers weren’t just old — they were historic. Dating back to the 1840s, they were one of America’s earliest mass‑produced candies. Soldiers carried them in the Civil War. Explorers packed them for long expeditions. They lasted forever, held up in heat, and didn’t crumble in a pocket.

And here’s the fun part: Long before M&M’s turned “melts in your mouth, not in your hand” into a marketing empire, Necco Wafers were already doing it. They didn’t have a sugar shell — they were simple, chalky discs — but they were famously durable. They survived heat, humidity, backpacks, pockets, and battlefields without turning into a sticky mess. The original tough‑as‑nails candy.

Sweethearts: The Chalky Little Hearts That Defined Valentine’s Day

Then there were the conversation hearts — Sweethearts. Every February, those pastel hearts took over classrooms, office desks, and candy bowls. “Be Mine.” “Cutie Pie.” “Call Me.” Corny, chalky, and absolutely iconic.

Necco made billions of them every year. When the company collapsed, Valentine’s Day actually felt wrong without them. Stores had empty shelves. People hoarded old bags. It was a tiny cultural crisis.

The Collapse: When a New England Institution Went Dark

In 2018, after nearly two centuries, Necco abruptly shut down. Workers were locked out. The Cambridge factory closed. The neon sign went dark. Candy lovers panicked, and New England collectively realized how much this quirky little company meant to its identity.

Necco Wafers disappeared. Sweethearts vanished. Sky Bar went extinct. It felt like losing a piece of home.

The Rescue: Necco Lives On

But New England doesn’t let its traditions die quietly.

Spangler Candy Company stepped in and revived Necco Wafers in 2020, keeping the classic flavors intact. Sweethearts returned too — a little imperfect at first, but unmistakably back. The original company is gone, but the candies themselves survived. The spirit of Necco lives on.

Sky Bar: The Rebel That Went Its Own Way

Sky Bar didn’t follow the others.

Instead of being scooped up by a big candy company, it was rescued by a tiny gourmet shop in Sudbury, Massachusetts. Duck Soup bought the rights at auction, rebuilt the production process from scratch, and brought Sky Bar back as a small‑batch regional candy.

Eventually, Sky Bar spun off into its own brand — Sky Bar Candy — with its own website, its own store, and even its own merch. T‑shirts, hoodies, hats… all in that bright yellow retro logo. It’s the most New England thing imaginable: a beloved candy bar saved by sheer local determination.

In the End, It’s All New England

Necco’s story — collapse, rescue, reinvention — feels like a perfect metaphor for New England itself. Old traditions, stubborn loyalty, small businesses stepping up when the giants fall. Whether it’s wafers, Sweethearts, or the resurrected Sky Bar, these candies are stitched into the fabric of the region.

The factory may be gone, but the candy lives on. Still loved. Still nostalgic and unmistakably New England.

 

Home Again, Home Again… for Donut Muffins

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Mini cinnamon‑sugar donut muffins nestled in a parchment‑lined bowl, their tops glistening with sugar, with soft greenery and a white flower behind them.

From Road Trips to Donut Muffins

After weeks of writing about Boston, Cape Cod, whales, candy shops, and national parks, I’ve been thinking about that feeling you get when the traveling finally pauses. The suitcase goes back into its corner, the cats settle in around you, and home wraps itself around your shoulders like a familiar sweater. Exploring is wonderful — but coming home is its own kind of sigh.

So today, instead of another adventure, let’s step back into the kitchen and savor something warm and nostalgic: old-fashioned homemade donuts… or at least their modern cousin. I made mini donut muffins the other day, and they tasted exactly like cinnamon sugar donut holes — no frying oil required. Sometimes the sweetest part of traveling is the moment you return.

Those homemade donuts have been calling me ever since I had a crispy Old Fashioned from the Colonial Donut Kiosk in the lobby of Morton Hospital. That really took me back. It’s one of my favorite memories: watching my mom drop raw donuts — and the leftover holes — into hot oil. I wasn’t allowed anywhere near the pot (hot oil and kids don’t mix), but we were always ready to start sampling as soon as they were draining on paper towels.

I was almost at the point of trying to make some myself. I just needed to figure out what to do with the used oil.

While I pondered that dilemma, I ran across a recipe for mini donut muffins. Honestly, I wasn’t expecting much, but the recipe was simple and I hoped it would satisfy my craving. They turned out surprisingly good — good enough that I want to share them with you. So pull up a chair and pour yourself a cuppa. Imagine a plate of warm, tender mini muffins sitting right in front of you.

Donut Mini Muffins

Servings: 24 mini muffins

Ingredients

Muffins:

• ½ cup granulated sugar

• ¼ cup margarine, melted

• ¾ teaspoon ground nutmeg

• ½ cup milk

• 1 cup all-purpose flour

• 1 teaspoon baking powder

For Finishing:

• ¼ cup margarine, melted

• ½ cup granulated sugar

• 1 teaspoon ground cinnamon

Directions

  1. Preheat oven to 375°. Grease a 24-cup mini muffin tin.
  2. Make the muffins: Mix sugar, margarine, and nutmeg together in a large bowl. Stir in milk, then mix in flour and baking powder until just combined. Spoon into prepared muffin cups, filling each ½ full.
  3. Bake until the tops are light golden brown, 15–20 minutes. Remove from oven and transfer to a wire rack.
  4. Immediately place melted margarine in one bowl and mix sugar and cinnamon together in another.
  5. Dip the top of each warm muffin in melted margarine, then dip in the sugar mixture to coat. Let cool for 10 minutes before serving.

 

Notes • I used stick butter in place of margarine.

• I tried rolling the whole muffin in the butter and coating, like donut holes. It isn’t necessary — just dipping the tops gives a better balance.

• You won’t get a crispy exterior like deep-fried donuts, but the nutmeg and cinnamon will certainly give you a donut vibe.

Let me know how yours turn out.

 

Those Silly Kitty Cats Are at It Again

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And a Four‑Year Mystery Is Finally Solved

Banner and Balboa, those silly kitties,  have a talent — not just for finding things, but for finding the exact things I don’t want them to find. Rubber bands, paper clips, bottle caps, the occasional bug… and yes, even my car keys. (If you missed Banner’s infamous key‑hiding caper, you can read the full story here: Tale of the Lost Keys — October 3, 2021.)

Their preferred playground is the middle of my tiny kitchen floor. Runner‑up: the bathtub. At least in the bathroom they’re out from underfoot.

Anyway, there has been a mystery in my house for more than four years. It only ever annoyed me when I wanted to use my food processor — and only when I wanted to grate carrots — so you can see why it wasn’t exactly top of mind.

The Food Processor Era Begins

I bought that food processor in a moment of weakness. A literal one. I had just shredded a five‑pound bag of carrots by hand for a carrot cake, and my arm was about to fall off. My thought was “There has to be an easier way.” I watch the Food Network. I watch the cooking shows. You drop ingredients in, press a button, and voilà — shreds, purées, grinds, blends. It was time to modernize.

I brought it home, plugged it in, dropped in a carrot or two, and it worked beautifully. Perfect shreds. Coleslaw here I come. I gave it a place of honor on the counter.

The Carrot Catastrophe

Now, I’m not always the most mechanical of people, and the next time I tried to shred carrots… mush. Tiny bits. Sand. What was going on?

I ran to my computer and watched YouTube videos. Looked simple. Tried again. Same result. Back to the old‑fashioned hand grater I went, but the food processor was still great for bread crumbs, crushing crackers, and grinding honey grahams for pie crusts.

Over the years I kept reviewing how‑to videos and giving carrots another try. No success.

Then one day, I had an epiphany. I Googled the parts of a food processor.

And there it was. The answer to my question. The missing part. The center shaft.

 

I only had the shaft with the blade. So when I put carrots in, they got shredded by the disc and then immediately chopped to bits by the blade underneath. I couldn’t remove the blade without having the center shaft to put in its place.

Head‑slap. Duh.

 

Enter: The Culprit

Okay all you culinary experts, stop laughing. I can explain.

Not long after I got Balboa, I found the little culprit in the kitchen playing with a plastic thing. I had no idea what it was — I thought it was something he found under the sink. He used to go in and out of there all the time, and I figured it was leftover from when the workers replaced the countertops.

Now that I realize what I’m missing, I recognize the thing as the shaft from the food processor.

Needless to say, it’s long gone. It was tossed even before the Great Kitchen Declutter.

Balboa posing in the middle of the kitchen with the food‑processor shaft he ‘liberated,’ looking very satisfied with himself.

The Wallet‑Smacking Finale

The worst part? That tiny plastic thingy costs almost as much as a new food processor to replace. Can you believe that.

One small moment of stupidity… one big bang on the wallet. But at least I finally know why I couldn’t shred carrots with my food processor.

When that part gets here, I may have to make a carrot cake to celebrate.