Monthly Archives: June 2011

Honey-Lime Fruit Salad

Once upon a time, we were having some friends over for dinner. These friends happen to follow a gluten free and vegan diet. What should I serve for dessert? I wondered, since eggs, flour, milk & cream were all out (thus eliminating my dinner party stand-by Pôts de Crème). The answer to my dilemma was clear: fresh fruit! A quick search on Tasty Kitchen provided this recipe, which suited my needs perfectly.

Adorned with a little syrup made with lime juice, honey, sugar, and mint, this fruit dessert is so simple and so fresh. And as soon as the gluten-free and vegan ‘component’ is no longer present, it would also be delicious scooped over ice cream.

Let’s go!

Ingredients

(Serves 6-8)

10 cups fresh seasonal fruit (berries, mangoes, kiwi, peaches, etc.)
3 TBS fresh lime juice
3 TBS chopped mint leaves
3 TBS honey
3 TBS brown sugar

Chop up the mint leaves . . .

. . . and squeeze out that fresh lime juice. My lime was pretty large, so I only needed one to get the 3 TBS of juice.

Combine the lime juice, honey, sugar, and mint to form the dressing.

Whisk it until it’s all combined.

Chop up the fruit:

The chunks of mango were my favorite part.

Berries are also in season, so I loaded ‘er up with blackberries and raspberries and strawberries.

Toss the fruit with the dressing . . .

. . . and serve!

We weren’t able to finish this the first night, and after the salad had spent 2 nights in the fridge I wondered if it would still be holding up okay. The juice from the berries had tinted everything a slight reddish color, but once I got past its appearance, my taste buds swooned. After marinating for a couple days, it’s even better. Each bite of mango was full of minty lime berry juice. I could have eaten 5 pounds of the stuff.

In another life in which I have the stomach of an elephant, of course.

Anyway, it’s the perfect dessert for the summer–no oven or stove involved.

Click here for printer-friendly version: Honey-Lime Fruit Salad

BYOB Pedicure

For my birthday a couple weeks ago, my friend Carrie took me to Arbre Nail Spa to get my first pedicure ever.

I know . . . 28 years old and not a single pedicure. I’ve also never had a manicure–not even for my wedding–I know some of you are shivering in horror. Don’t try to hide it.

It was BYOB–Bring Your Own Birthdaygirl. So Carrie brought me! Thanks Carrie.

Oh, and you can also bring some of this stuff:

White, girly, delicious wine.

In the spirit of documenting the experience, I started with a picture of my feet pre-pedicure.

I know that some people out there have a thing about feet. They don’t like ’em. They don’t like to look at ’em. They get uneasy when people start taking off their footwear. If that’s you: you certainly do not want to keep scrolling down. Because it’s all about the feet today.

My callouses were a little out of control, as you can see in this unflattering close up.

That’s one uuuugly sole right there.

We carefully chose our colors. Here’s the old red color on Carrie’s toes:

Yes, I think this new shade will look fab, girlfriend.

After waiting for two seats to free up next to each other, Carrie and I adjourned to the little foot-soaking station. The chairs vibrated and massaged you with little rollers. There’s even a personal remote control for your chair! Man, the things I’ve been missing.

Soaking, scrubbing, buffing, lotioning–it all felt great. I even got a calf massage–it was fierce, painful, and wonderful all at once.

Carrie looked like she was in severe pain for about half of her pedicure. Then it turned out that she’s just severely ticklish.

Conclusion: I loved it. However, I can’t get addicted to it because it costs something known as ‘money,’ ‘green ones,’ or ‘hard cash.’

The results were lovely, though. My feet have never been more beautiful. Of course, you can’t tell because this picture turned out dark and weird-looking.

No, I didn’t paint my toenails black. It’s a deep, gorgeous red. But the lighting at the back of the spa was all wrong.

Callouses = no longer terrifying.

I’m thinking once per year should be enough to keep me feeling appropriately decadent.