Dulce de Leche Brownies

Posted by on Apr 18, 2014 in Desserts | 5 Comments

Dulce de Leche Brownies

It was late when the door opened. The bright thing had gone away hours before and the house was dark. Only the glow sticks on the shelf gave off any light. 

Hammer opened his one eye at the sound of the jingling. He already laid on the floor with the door in view and knew as soon as the footsteps approached that it was Blonde One and Dark Haired One. Though the loud rolling and scraping noise that came with them was disturbing. He decided to sound the alarm. 

Buckley (who was terrible at night watch because he was not rescued but purchased and thus thought that all people were fairy beings who carried bacon in their pockets) came flying around the corner when Hammer sounded the alarm and joined in the serenade. When Blonde One and Dark Haired One shuffled in, grunting and saying the curse words, Buckley decided it was an invitation to leap into Dark Haired One’s arms. The cursing was louder now. Something fell.

Oh, they had been gone for so long! Ages and ages and ages! Even Hammer could not contain himself and circled them many, many times. They were covered in strange smells and the loud rolling, scraping thing was actually the Dreaded Box that they sometimes removed from the closet- the Dreaded Box made them disappear and made the gray haired lady appear instead (she only gave them hard biscuits, never chicken). Hammer growled at the Dreaded Box and considered lifting his leg on it to show his displeasure. But then Blonde One put a hand on his head and he forgot all that. 

Dulce de Leche Brownies

The four of them moved slowly, one giant mass, into the kitchen. Dark Haired One stumbled in first. “Food,” he mumbled. Hammer stood by his side and they looked into the Cold Box together. For the first time, Hammer realized that Dark Haired One had a peculiar item on his head- a brown hat with a strap under the chin. His skin was darkened, almost red. He had blackness around one eye. “Babe?”

“Brownies!” Blonde One had the same brown hat under her chin. She yawned and scratched Buckley behind the ears (he immediately dropped onto his back, swinging his legs, because he lacked dignity). She held something up to Dark Haired One and he grabbed it from her hand. “God bless Gerta,” he said. 

Hammer watched them attack the treats with joy and happiness. The curse words stopped. Silence filled the dark kitchen as they munched and scratched the dogs’ heads.  

The special treats must have chicken in them, Hammer thought. Was only explanation.

Dulce de Leche Brownies

Let’s play a fun game where you pretend like you’re reading this and not completely consumed with the photos of these brownies.

I mean, I get it. I am that dorky friend at the pool sitting beside her best guy friend when the hot lifeguard emerges from the water, complete with slow motion and that “boom chicka-chick-a” music from Ferris Bueller’s Day Off.  (Lifeguard = dulce de leche brownies). I don’t know how we ended up in a Taylor Swift song but who cares, you’re not even reading this. I can say anything right now. Poop. Monkey butt.

Because brownies. BROWNIES.

Dulce de Leche Brownies

Dulce de Leche Brownies

Source: foodswoon.com | Makes: One 8”x8” pan | Print Recipe


10 Tablespoons (1 and 1/4 sticks) of unsalted butter
1 and 1/4 Cups of sugar
3/4 Cups plus 2 tablespoons of unsweetened cocoa powder (natural or Dutch-process)
1/4 Teaspoon of salt
1 Teaspoon of vanilla extract
2 Cold, large eggs
1/2 Cup of all-purpose flour
1 and 1/4 Cups of dulce de leche*
Coarse sea salt


1. Preheat oven to 325°F.

2. Spray an 8×8-inch baking pan with cooking spray and set aside.

3. In a medium bowl, combine the butter, sugar, cocoa and 1/4 teaspoon salt. Place the bowl on top of a pot of simmering water. Stir until the butter melts and the mixture turns into a paste.

4. Remove the bowl from the pot and allow to cool for five minutes.

5. Stir in the vanilla.

6. Add the eggs one at time, stirring vigorously after each addition.

7. Stir in the flour, then beat the mixture with a wooden spoon for 40 strokes.

8. Scrape half of the batter into the prepared pan. In spoonfuls, drop half of the dulce de leche on top of the batter. Run a knife lightly through the batter and dulce de leche in a swirling motion. Pour the rest of the batter on top, followed by spoonfuls of the remaining dulce de leche. Lighly run the knife through the batter again in a swirling motion. Sprinkle the top of the brownies with coarse sea salt.

9. Bake for 50-60 minutes until a cake tester comes out clean.

10. Let cool on a rack. It’s easiest to cut the brownies and remove them from the pan when they have completely cooled.

* You can find cans of dulce de leche near the sweetened condensed milk in the supermarket. If you would like to make your own, here are two recipes: David Lebovitz’ recipe or Smitten Kitchen’s recipe. If you go the homemade route, make sure the dulce de leche has cooled before adding to the brownie batter.


Creamy Cauliflower and Leek Soup

Posted by on Apr 11, 2014 in Entrees, Soups | One Comment

The young girl she once was would’ve been so disappointed. It was what Mad thought whenever she stepped onto a tour bus. She’d flashed her badge to the hefty bouncer and climbed the filthy steps up into the bus to find that it was precisely like all the others. Crowded with guitars and scarves, littered with debris, and the air vaguely damp. This one smelled like soup, she thought with a pang for that young girl. Vegetable soup, she thought and wrinkled her nose. She had become a reporter to write about music but the rock stars she followed around the country had, mostly, left their wild ways behind. Most of them were vegan and skinnier than her. The heaviest thing they drank was tea with honey and lemon.

The band was absent from the bus at the moment, thankfully. Mad appreciated the moment to collect herself. She was exhausted. Festival season was going to put her in the ground. The hot, dusty ground. She caught a glimpse of herself in one of the many, many mirrors on the bus and scowled. With her cropped black blazer, the sleeves rolled up past the elbows, the loose braid over her shoulder, the smeared black mascara, she looked like a poor imitation of Chrissie Hynde. And there was another pang.

She’d met Chrissie Hynde, almost eight months prior. Introduced herself. When she mentioned she was a reporter, a music critic, Chrissie Hynde had paused. “Who isn’t, these days?”

Mad wiped the liner from her eyes and took a swig of water from the bottle in her purse. There was a whiff of that soup again and she swore under her breath. This interview would be insufferable, she thought. Another week of her life that she would not be able to get back. It would be one thing to talk to The Kit Shickers and then leave but she had agreed to ride with them for their next slate of shows down the West Coast. A few years ago, she would’ve leapt for a shot like this. But the hot desert air made her brain throb and the bands had started to blur, merge together, into one androgynous blob. She cleared some debris from a seat and perched herself at the edge of it. She needed a break from herself, is what she needed. 

Then there was a rush of sound outside, a kind of roaring, and suddenly The Kit Shickers were there, up the stairs, hollering their greetings to the hefty bouncer. Two of them were in conversation and glided right past her, two sylphs in black, heading for the back of the bus. That would be Tom and Harris- she mentally checked them off her band dossier. They were cousins. And then the lead singer, whose name escaped her, hilariously, since he zeroed in on her instantly and clasped his hand to hers. He was beautiful, they usually were, and magnetic in a harmless way. He wasted his magnetism, she thought uncharitably. “You must be from Vinyl. I’m Pot.” He gave a little shrug, one that said she probably already knew that, and Mad felt her free hand clench against her side, into a fist. “Welcome.” He glanced down at the state of the bus and smiled apologetically. Christ, how old was he, she thought. Twenty? “Sorry for, uh, you know, the state of things here. Baxter, come here and say hi. This is Baxter.” He grabbed his bandmate and pulled him to his side. “Apologize better, would you?

“Yeah, no probl-” The words got stuck in her throat, just for a second. Baxter was drums. He was tall. Older than the rest. Cleaner than the rest. Of all the rock and roll on the bus, he was the least. He met her eyes and offered her a smile, a real one. Shit, Mad thought. There she goes. Another one bites the dust. 

*You all gave such lovely character name suggestions for our annual giveaway so I thought I’d give you proper credit. Our last story featured the names Margo and Natalie, suggested by Tabitha H. and Mitzie T, respectively. Today’s story names come courtesy of Natalie.

You may have noticed, over the last three years, that the typed recipe on the blog often looks different than the beautiful recipe card that’s attached to each post. That’s my fault. I cannot leave well enough alone. Nicole creates the beautiful recipe card and sticks to what was written by our source (in this case, the lovely Love and Lemons. I could crawl into that site and pull up the covers and take a nap there, I love it so much.)  And I… futz. I tinker with the words. I can’t help it.

I never used to be this way but over the last three years, I’ve become obsessed with scribing (or re-scribing) recipes in a way that makes sense to me, that makes me feel calm and in control. Beyond my notice, I’ve developed recipe idiosyncrasies. They are, as follows:

Adding “of” to the ingredients list. As in “3 cups of flour.” For some reason, the lack of “of” was making me crazy.

Writing “and”  between whole numbers and half numbers. I actually stand by this one- do you know how many times I’ve glanced down and thought 1 and 1/2 teaspoons actually stated 11/2 teaspoons and ended up doing crazy math in my head before coming to my senses?

Numbering each separate task in the instructions. (Hi, is this the party for Type A List Makers? It is? Great.)

Again, in the instructions, stating the item you need first. As in, “take a baking sheet and add cauliflower” and not the other way around.  I… don’t know why I feel it’s necessary to do this, I just do.

Anyway. No matter how you choose to read the recipe, you should make the soup. I will, this weekend. It’s lovely. There’s something about creamy white soups that remind me of Julia Child and leeks always make me think of spring. I feel like I could use a dose right now.

Creamy Cauliflower and Leek Soup

Source: Love and Lemons | Serves 3 as Main Course | Print Recipe

Note: Overnight alert! You will need to soak the cashews overnight.


About 2 cups chopped cauliflower
2-3 Leeks, white and very light green parts, chopped (about 1 to 1.5 cups)
2 Cloves of garlic
Olive oil, for drizzling
1/2 Cup of raw, unsalted, un-roasted cashews, soaked overnight*
1 and 1/2 Teaspoons of miso paste (or just salt if you don’t have any)
Leaves from a few sprigs of marjoram or thyme
3 Cups of water
2 Tablespoons of more olive oil (to blend into the soup)
1/8 Teaspoon of smoked paprika (or more to taste)
A squeeze of lemon
A few more pinches of salt
Red pepper flakes (optional)
Splash of white wine vinegar or champagne vinegar, at the end


1. Preheat oven to 400°F.

2. On a baking sheet, spread cauliflower, leeks and garlic. Drizzle with olive oil and sprinkle with a few pinches of salt and pepper. Roast for 20-30 minutes, rotating baking sheet halfway through. Remove when everything starts to turn golden; you don’t want to burn the leeks.

3. Toss the roasted veggies, drained cashews, marjoram leaves, miso paste, a squeeze of lemon and 1.5 cups of water into a blender. Blend until pureed. Add olive oil, paprika and the rest of the water. Blend again. Taste and adjust seasonings.

4. Pour puree into a medium saucepan and heat until it’s just warm (and thus, soup). Stir in a little more water to desired thickness. Serve with bread.

*Use plain, raw cashews or the soup will taste too much like cashew.

The Baguette

Posted by on Apr 8, 2014 in Breads | 4 Comments

They sat on a blanket in the grass and leaned their backs against a tree. Margo scratched an errant itch on her arm and gazed out over the fields. “Do you think French women complain about yogurt as much as we do?”

“I dunno.” Her friend Natalie let out a rumbling sigh.

“God, I’m sick of eating yogurt.”

“I know you are.”

They sat in silence for a moment. The wind rustled the weeds around them and a cluster of reeds played them a song.  Margo settled back against the tree and tried to get comfortable. “Do you think French people really eat baguettes every day? I mean, that’s a lot of baguettes.” 

Natalie reached between them and tore the end off a baguette. “That’s true.” 

“Throw me a piece?” Natalie complied and they ate the bread in silence.

“Do you think French people-”



Natalie smiled and placed a floppy hat on her head. She hopped up off the blanket and grabbed the handlebars of her bike. The blanket and baguette were tucked into the little wicker basket in seconds. “Let’s just go back to town and ask them. Okay?”

Margo smiled and grabbed her bike from the other side of the tree. 

Look! Bread! WE MADE BREAD.

I’m as shocked as you are.

I will admit, I had my doubts about this recipe. (I also found it hilarious that Food52 is all “It only takes four hours! You can do it!” where other places are trying to get recipes down to, like, 10 minutes or less. We are not a normal group of people, huh?)

But anyway BREAD. On the scale of leave it to worth it (the leave it category includes croissants and bagels. As in, too much work for subpar results at home. The worth it category includes ice cream, air popped popcorn and granola.)  I’m going to go ahead and say WORTH IT. These came out truly impressive. They were delicious and so professional-looking. Which is a shock considering I was bumbling around the kitchen most of the time like some kind of demented French cartoon character. BREAD. Glorious bread!

The 4 Hour Baguette

Source: Food52 | Makes 3 Baguettes | Print Recipe


1 and 1/2 Cup (12 ounces) of tap water, heated to 115°F
1 Teaspoon (1/8 ounce) of active dry yeast
3 and 1/4 Cups (14 2/3 ounces) of all-purpose flour
3 Teaspoons (3/8 ounce) of kosher salt (if using a fine-grained salt or table salt, use less salt)
1/2 Cup of ice cubes


1. In a large, clean bowl, whisk together water and yeast; let sit for 10 minutes, until yeast is foamy.

2. Add flour to yeast/water and stir with a fork until dough forms and all flour is absorbed. Let the dough sit about 20 minutes.

3. Add salt, then transfer dough to a lightly floured work surface and knead until smooth and elastic, about 10 minutes. Transfer dough ball to a lightly greased bowl, cover bowl with plastic wrap and place bowl in cold oven or microwave. Let dough rest until doubled in size, about 45 minutes.

4. Transfer dough to a lightly floured work surface, and shape into an 8-inch x 6-inch rectangle. Fold the 8-inch sides toward the middle, then fold the shorter sides toward the center, like a T-shirt. Return dough, seam side down, to the bowl. Cover with plastic again, and return to oven. Let sit until doubled in size, about 1 hour.

5. Remove bowl with dough from oven, and place a cast–iron skillet on the bottom rack of oven; position another rack above skillet, and place a baking stone or upside down or rimless sheet pan on it.

6. Heat oven to 475° F.

7. Transfer dough to a lightly floured work surface, and cut into three equal pieces; shape each piece into a 14-inch rope. Flour a sheet of parchment paper on a rimless baking sheet; place ropes, evenly spaced, on paper. Lift paper between ropes to form pleats; place two tightly rolled kitchen towels under long edges of paper, creating supports for the loaves. Cover loosely with plastic wrap; let sit until it doubles in size, about 50 minutes.

8. Uncover; remove towels, and flatten paper to space out loaves. Using a sharp razor, knife, bread lame, or scissors, slash the top of each baguette at a 30–degree angle in four spots; each slash should be about 4 inches long.

9. Pull out the oven rack with the stone or baking sheet on it and, using the corner of the parchment paper as a guide, slide the loaves, still on the parchment paper, onto the baking stone or pan. Place ice cubes in skillet (this produces steam that lets the loaves rise fully before a crust forms)- (so cool!)

10. Bake the baguettes until darkly browned and crisp, 20 to 30 minutes; cool before serving.


A few notes:

The step by step instructions on Food52 include some photos which may help.

- My dough didn’t rise as much as I was expecting but the loaves still came out great. So as long as you don’t kill your yeast (see link in instructions) you should be okay.

- The next day: the bread was still chewy and good but could benefit from toasting. So, you know, eating three loaves of homemade bread the first day is probably not necessary. Or you can just pretend I didn’t say that.


Free April 2014 Desktop and iPhone Calendar- Spring Risotto

Posted by on Apr 1, 2014 in *Calendars*, *Smitty & The Girl Series* | No Comments

Smitty & The Mother

Read the First 31 Episodes | Previously on Smitty & The Girl: It’s been a long day for Petula Mathers. She swept into town just to cause her usual amount of mayhem and drama only to end up conked on the head by her twin sister and tossed into the backseat of her car, to be hauled out of town. Now she’s come to, only to realize that her long-lost son is feet away from her…

Her sister was not being as quiet as she thought she was. 

Rose kept one eye on the kid and one eye on the car, which rocked ever so slightly. She must be awake by now, Rose thought. Probably considering how she could make a run for it, in Rose’s own car. Rose stood up. “Want to get a look at her?” 

Freddy blinked, hands on his knobby knees. When she’d first spotted him, he looked older than his years. Now he looked much younger. He looked like a little boy. “Uh, okay.” He followed her to the car. 

Rose didn’t rush but she didn’t hesitate either. She opened the passenger door, smoothy bent down and retrieved the dangling car keys from the dash and gestured toward her sister. “There she is. Your mother. Petula Agadora Mathers.” Rose leaned against the door frame and nudged her sister’s foot with her own. “Right now, she’s pretending to be unconscious.”

Freddy looked at her and then at Petula, bewildered. “She is?” 


“Why?” The poor kid was so confused, Rose thought. Cripes, what a mess. 

“Because she’s a coward.” Rose narrowed her eyes at her twin sister. And suddenly she had an idea, one that made her belly burn and her heart sing. “Let’s see if you can still fake it when Mike gets a good look at you.” And she swore she saw Petula twitch in response.

“Come on, kid,” Rose said. “We’ll take you home.” 


You guys, I don’t want to jinx anything but it was fifty degrees and sunny today. FIFTY DEGREES. It felt like eighty degrees. Say what you will about winter but damn, nothing gives you an appreciation for the slightest bit of warmth like months and months of relentless, frigid cold. Warm sun and risotto for dinner. In a funny sort of twist, Nicole and I made the same dinner this week. The difference is that she plated it, shot it and turned it into a calendar and, uh, I just ate mine. Semantics. (Hello asparagus! Old friend!)

Download free April 2014 Desktop and iPhone calendars:

For iPhone 4 Series

For iPhone 5 Series

For your computer:

Click here for 1920 x 1080 version.

2560 x 1440 version

1680 x 1050 version

1600 x 1200 version

1440 x 900 version

1280 x 960 version


Winner, Winner, Burrata Salad Dinner

Posted by on Mar 28, 2014 in *Some Kitchen Stuff*, Entrees, Salads, Side Dishes | 2 Comments

Destiny and Keevah never really met, formally. There were no real introductions, no mention of last names or what they each did for a living, at the time. They ended up in the same small circle at the home of their mutual friend Maris who had decided, on a whim, to throw an informal brunch for everyone she knew. The only thing she had said as she glanced from side to side at her friends was, “My two most unusually named friends, under one roof!”

Destiny and Keevah had both smiled sheepishly and sipped their coffee before they fell into separate conversations.

In the corner of the room, unseen, the same Destiny and Keevah stood. They were ten years older and surveyed the brunch scene, and their younger selves, with bemused horror. “God, look at my hair,” Keevah said. She reached a hand up to touch her own natural curls, now unruly but still far, far improved from the days when she would forcibly iron her hair into flat, shiny submission. “Why am I talking to Brad Saunders? Ugh, I hated that guy.”

“She’s serving that burrata salad. I remember how impressed I was about that. Burrata at brunch.” Destiny, now largely pregnant, rested a hand on her kicking belly and stared at the back of her younger self. “Is that really how I look from behind?”

“You’re fine.” Keevah scowled at her younger self who, at that moment, batted Brad Saunders on the arm and laughed. “I wish we’d been friends at this party,” she said. She’d shuffled home miserably after the party, Keevah remembered,  exhausted by the chitchat and the forced splendor of Maris’ home in the South Loop, depressed about her own crumbling apartment, stung by an offhand comment from Maris about the state of her love life. Or lack thereof.

“Me too.” Destiny arched her back and winced. “Look at poor Maris. Trying so hard to have a good time.” They both glanced over at the friend who had introduced them or, really, just off-handedly put them together in the same room. She was wearing pearls but was barefoot because that had seemed very elegant, to be in pearls but barefoot. She could not really pull off the look though, when so many people nearly stepped on her naked feet. 

How could Maris have known that this was the first of many times that the two women would be thrown into the same awkward party or social situation? That they would eventually come to seek each other out. That they would catch each other’s eye when someone said something just too ridiculous to go unnoticed. That they would then meet up for a drink, just the two of them, and end up, as it happened, talking about Maris, who they were both struggling to still be friends with, or find things in common with.

More trips to the bar, stops at the bookstore, coffee after coffee after coffee, lounging movie nights, late night texts after one of them had broken up with a guy or was starting to see a guy or when each of them had met the guy. Keevah at Destiny’s mother’s funeral; there was a moment when she could feel Destiny start to go beside her and Keevah reached out and grabbed her arm and Destiny did not cry, which was what she wanted- she was trying to be strong for her brother. Destiny running up the steps at city hall in her black pants and boots when Keevah called in the middle of work on a Tuesday to tell her she was getting married and could she get there quick, as Keevah had changed her mind at the last second about wanting a witness. All the little moments in between; countless, endless, stacked up like gold coins between them. 

They watched the scene before them and their singular, struggling selves and then Keevah snagged two glasses of mimosa from the side table and handed one to Destiny. “Just a sip for you, Mama,” Keevah said and she raised her glass. Destiny looked at her expectantly. “To Maris. Who did her job.”

Destiny grinned and raised a glass to toast their hostess. “Who did her job.”

Thank you so much for helping us celebrate our three years of SKS this week! All of your warm and lovely comments were deeply appreciated. And, uh, wow- I got a lot of good name ideas so thank you for that too. The full list is below. I think it’s safe to say that we, as a group, wish we were living in a romance novel.

And now… drumroll please for our two winners! The numbers picked, by Random.Org were comments 31 and 3; congratulations to Allison Day and Melanie!

We will email you today to discuss which foodie package you would like to receive in the mail from us. Our most sincere thanks to everyone who participated.

Here were your character names, in the order received. I should be good for the next three years with these. Or ten years.

Gertrude (Trudie)
Computer (for a dog)
Ignatious (Iggy)
Earlene and Earl (twins)
Eleanor and Leanore (twins)
Jeanette and Antoinette (twins)
Zola Summers
Axel de Luna
Baloney Raymond (ha!)
Anders (Workaholics fan?)
Bronwyn (perfect for that Lord of the Rings fan-fiction I’ve been meaning to write…)
Ogee Eckard (your own name IS amazing)
Reese Luisi (I’m Italian, so I liked the full name)
Pickle (!)

And now, ladies and gentlemen, your salad… specifically, your Heirloom Tomato, Chorizo and Burrata Salad which, frankly, is almost too beautiful to eat. Let us just stare at it and behold its wonder and be thankful that cheese exists. Especially burrata which is like mozzarella but magic. If burrata is ever on a menu, you say “We will have all of the burrata you have.” End of lesson.

Heirloom Tomato, Chorizo and Burrata Salad

Source: ChantelleGrady | Makes: | Print Recipe


400 grams of heirloom tomatoes, halved
Olive oil
Sea salt and cracked black pepper
6 Slice of chorizo, sliced diagonally
1 Tablespoon of capers, rinsed
1 Ball of Burrata cheese

To serve

2-3 Slices of fresh baguette
Olive oil
1 Garlic clove, halved
Balsamic vinegar
Fresh basil leaves
Sea salt and cracked black pepper


1. Preheat oven to 265°F. Line a baking tray with parchment paper.

2. Place halved tomatoes on baking tray, drizzle with oil, season with salt and pepper. Toss to coat. Turn tomatoes so cut side is facing up and roast for 30 minutes. Transfer smaller tomatoes into a bowl to cool while the larger tomatoes roast for another 30 minutes. Remove from oven and add to bowl.

3. In a frying pan, grill the chorizo on each side for 1 minute until golden. Transfer to paper towel to drain. To hot pan, add capers and fry for 30 seconds until slightly golden. Transfer to paper towel with chorizo.

4. On a baking sheet, place the baguette slices. Drizzle both sides with olive oil and grill until golden. Remove and rub one side with the cut garlic.

5. To serve, place the tomatoes, chorizo and capers together on a plate. Top with the burrata, drizzle with oil and balsamic to taste. Scatter with basil leaves and sprinkle with salt and pepper. Serve with grilled baguette.


We’re 3! Win Free Stuff!

Posted by on Mar 20, 2014 in *Some Kitchen Stuff* | 54 Comments

Some Kitchen Stories is three years old this week!


We want to celebrate by giving you free stuff. This year, we’re doing something a little different. We’re going to offer three SURPRISE prize packages. Comment below to enter for a chance to win one of them! We’re giving away two, one from me and one from Nicole.

Each package will be filled with fun stuff that fits the theme (stuff you’ll actually want, we promise) with locally sourced products from our homes (Chicago and Maine) and one delicious baked good, baked personally by us as a thank you to you. Think of it as a delicious care package from a stranger who loves food and food gadgets as much as you do.

You could win one of these babies:

Brunch Party

A loaf of delicious cake-bread (banana! chocolate banana! zucchini! lemon poppyseed!)

An assortment of items that will be perfect for your next fancy breakfast party.

Dessert Party

Cookies or Bars (winner’s choice)

Fun stuff for your dessert table! Could be syrups for sundaes, cute parfait glasses, zippy serving ware.

Midnight Snack

A candy or savory treat, just for you, baked by us.

And yet more candy and savory treats. Treats of all kind! Perfect for hiding away and snacking on in the dark when all of your loved ones are asleep.

Dates: Thursday, March 20 to Thursday, March 27, 2014 (contest ends 12am ET on the 28th)

How to Enter: Just leave a comment below with a character name (I always need more character names).

Selecting a Winner:  Winners (2) will be selected on Friday March 28, 2014 using random.org, a random generator. The winner will be notified by email and will have until Monday to respond. If the winner doesn’t respond to the winning notification email, another winner will be chosen.

Boring/Horrible Disclaimers: You must be 18+ to enter. We will only be shipping within the continental United States.  SKS reserves the right to disallow comment submissions for the following reasons:

  • Any rude or obscene comments will not be approved. (But I will laugh at them silently before deleting them.)
  • All spam comments will not be approved. (Again, some of these make me laugh. But they will not be approved.)
  • No purchase is necessary to enter. A purchase will not increase your chances of winning. I’m not even sure what you would purchase to win, honestly. Wait, was someone going to send me money to increase their chances? Maybe I should rethink this disclaimer… (aw, happy three year anniversary to you, snarky contest disclaimers!)

So what are you waiting for? Go win free stuff!!!



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