Fun Easter Treats

Easter is just around the corner and I thought I would post the super fun Krispy treats I made last year. I was instantly inspired when I saw the quick flashes of Rice Krispy treats shaped like eggs while my sister was forwarding past commercials on her DVR. "Oh my God!" I gasped, "GO BACK! It's Rice Krispy treats shaped into eggs and filled with M&Ms!" I am still amazed at how quickly my brain grabbed the whizzing images that flashed before my eyes and put them together to understand what it was. Why can't my brain work that well under normal circumstances, like when I walk into a room and forget why...but I digress.

Anyway, sugary sweets are not something I normally eat, but when inspiration hits, I must surrender to its power. Plus, I had never actually made Rice Krispy treats myself, and I always love new experiences. Turns out, they are super easy--a little time consuming with stuffing the eggs, but super easy. Making these 'treats' are fun for the whole family and I highly recommend these surprise 'eggs' as a creative way to make (and eat) them. So here is what you need:

Caffé Culture

The birth of my niece has brought me stateside once again and even though I am in love with this beautiful bambina, I can’t say I don’t miss my Italian luxuries (which are normal everyday things, but luxuries to me!)

Gone are my morning cappuccinos and cornetti… Now if I order a cappuccino, I get one of these humungous cups filled with I don’t know what. This is what I got the other day when I ordered a cappuccino at a local breakfast place. This cup was almost bigger than my head! And the contents? Some powdered mix from a push-button machine—no actual espresso. There has got to be tighter rules on what places can get away with serving!

The Italians, although not much of a rule-based culture, are very strict when it comes to food and coffee. So I thought I would give a little caffé lesson so you can be more in the know on the correct way of serving these beverages. But first, a little background and a few cultural comments about il caffé.

The Peanut Butter Ambassador

Peanut butter. A condiment so common in the US, that no one gives a second thought about it. It is so stitched into the fibers of the American life that we just take it for granted. But here in Italy, it just doesn’t exist. In southern Europe, peanut butter (like pecans and fresh cranberries) is a rare and abstract American food that many people have never tasted and some have never even heard of. So seeing it on the shelf of a tiny international food store, located between asian fish sauce and dried shrimp was a very exciting moment. It was a discovery that reunited my husband with his beloved peanut butter. 

We have since purchased three jars, as gifts for friends that really like peanuts but have NEVER tried peanut butter and I have also introduced my sister-in-law to this new nut butter. She has officially classified it as better than Nutella! Wow. There must be something about discovering a new flavor that makes it so special. I mean, I know peanut butter is good, but you should see how Italians go crazy over it! I feel like I’m spreading peanut butter joy. 

A Shared Lover

My Italian had only been back in Italy for two weeks when I spoke to him on the phone from the adorable shabby-chic apartment I was visiting in L.A.

He asked me: “How is my lover?” and I knew he wasn't asking about me.
I replied: “sexier than ever”.

In truth, his lover is also my lover and neither of us can get her out of our minds--and we're not the only ones. Our lover has inspired songs, films, novels and poems. She can be your most influential muse or the cause of your own destruction.

More songs have been written about her than anyone else--more movies have been filmed about her than anyone else. She attracts all kinds, from the destitute dreamers to the rich and famous; from low-life gangsters to Hindu gurus. She is Bold & Beautiful, famous and infamous--but also coy and secretive. Not everyone who meets her will know her--she doesn’t give it all up at once. You have to get to know her really well before she shares her real glory with you.

So who is this enigmatic diva?? 

She has been called many things, from "La La Land" to "Tinsel Town"; from "The City of Angels" to "The City of Broken Dreams". But perhaps she is best known by just her initials:

  

 
I had only left her a few months ago, but seeing her again makes me wonder why I ever left. She’s so beautiful and so much fun to hang out with--how could we have been so stupid???

I think of all the great times we could have if we got back together again. But this time, I would do it right--I would appreciate her more and take more advantage of all she has to offer. More evenings at great restaurants; more nights at the Hollywood Bowl; more lazy afternoons on cafe patios; more sunsets at the Getty; more hiking spots, more live shows, more days at the beach, more drinks by rooftop pools, more Sunday mornings at the farmer's markets...

Her allure is intoxicating and her food tantalizes my senses.

In our few short days together, I slowly checked off my list of favorites: late night coffee and cake at Urth Cafe; the special rolls at Boss Sushi on La Cienega; Thai spicy eggplant at Pink Pepper on La Brea, the BEST brunch at the Alcove on Hilhurst, the BEST veggie burger, "The Big Macro", and at M Cafe, freshly mashed guacamole and L.A. Lemonade at El Cholo. Oh, my list could go on forever...

   

But what is it about L.A.? 

What is that voodoo that she do?

Is it all the shiny, beautiful people? 

No. For me, it is much more than that. For me, it is all her beautiful neighborhoods with quiet, tree-lined streets and the only the sound of chirping birds. It is hearing at least five languages every time I leave the house. It is knowing that I am surrounded by artists actively being artistic at all hours of the day and night. It is laying on the couch, in the afternoon sun with all the windows open, feeling the cool, ocean breeze and hearing nothing but the song of birds--okay, maybe also helicopters, but after a while, you don't notice them anymore.

It is sitting in Susina Bakery on Beverly, surrounded by the glowing apples of MacBook Pros quietly writing scripts that just might get green-lighted; watching the Hacids walk by with little boys’ curls bouncing abruptly as they try to keep up with their dad’s stride; smiling to myself as a group of incredibly muscular West Hollywood bike cops come in for croissants and cappuccinos.

It is having more health food stores and holistic clinics per square mile than anywhere else in the world. It is Sunday afternoons on Urth Cafe’s patio on Melrose, sipping a matcha latte and watching the Aston Martins, Ferraris and Lamborghinis drive by. It is feeling giddy as I stand in line behind Billy Crystal to order ice cream at Milk on Beverly. It is running to the store to pick something up and getting caught in the middle of Oscar preparations.
  

It is the moment I stop and take in the incredible silence amongst the tall trees on Sycamore Ave. before going to a yoga class just one street over on busy La Brea Blvd. It is driving up Mullholland at dawn to watch the sunrise over downtown and color the hills and the Hollywood sign the most amazing pinkish-orange color. It is being able to eat everything organic and healthy, no matter where I go in the city and not being forced to eat at corporate chains. It is the deep, moving sound and vibration of the third OM at the beginning of my yoga class when you can feel that we are all in-tune and aligned.
   

Los Angeles is my lover, and I have to share her with about 18 million other people. She made her way deep into my heart and I will always think fondly of the good times we shared.

Sure, we had our ups and downs...the traffic, the parking tickets, the $45 breakfasts...but I still love her...and I always will.

♫ Los Angeleeeeez, I’m yours.......... ♫