Recipe: Slow Cooker Curried Chicken That Will Rock Your Face Off

Subtitle: Unless You Are My Dad Who Refuses To Eat Things Like This

(Love you!)

One of my least favorite things about being engaged was registering for gifts. So much pressure! So many options! Such a weird but kind of awesome social norm!

The Robertson registry was one very thought-through list and the subject of many pre-wedding conversations which usually ended with us up to our eyeballs in imagined kitchen gadgetry that we would never use. (scream of horror!)

ALL THAT TO SAY, we have a slow cooker. It majorly failed us the first time we tried to use it so I have been busy pouting and resting my bruised ego. Plus it was REALLY CRAZY hot this summer (I know. Weird! Oh wait, totally normal...but we MidWesterners like to discuss the weather. A LOT.).

Fast forward to last weekend.

I stumbled across a recipe I had saved and decided to give it a whirl. I so badly want to redeem my first slow cooker experience and SO SO badly want us to become bffs so that I will have delicious things ready for my consumption shortly after walking in the door. I want to be that neighbor who always has good smells wafting out the window, curling down the stairs and snuggling up against those people below us who can grow amazing gardens and secretly judge us for our lack of produce this year. (And last.) ((And for forgetting our recycle bin on the curb. Often.)) I want the slow cooker smell to envelop them and say, "Well, they sure don't make use of their balcony but MY OH MY can they cook DINNER!"

...Is that too much to ask?

Imagine my delight when we threw a few ingredients in the slow cooker and after hours of increasingly tantalizing smells, we both took a forkful and our eyes popped open with, "This is SOOOOO good!"

(Well, that was Adam's reaction. Mine was much more controlled and just smartly appreciative. No emotional nonsense here!)

--What's that? You don't need the play by play and just want the recipe already?

Okay fine. But only if you tell me what I can make next in that thing! No holding out on me!

Recipe: Slow-Cooker Curried Chicken With Ginger
From: Real Simple

Serves 6| Hands-On Time: 15m | Total Time: 8hr 15m


Note to our dietician friend Steph--we used brown rice instead of white. Aren't you proud?!

Note to everyone EXCEPT our dietician friend Steph--we added a teeensy bit more salt and more cumin before serving. And we did not add scallions. And it was still good.


  1. In a 4- to 6-quart slow cooker, whisk together the tomato paste, garlic, curry powder, ginger, cumin, and ¾ cup water. Add the onion and stir to combine. Place the chicken on top and season with 1 teaspoon salt and ¼ teaspoon pepper.
  2. Cover and cook until the chicken is tender, on low for 7 to 8 hours or on high for 3 to 4 hours (this will shorten total cooking time).
  3. Twenty minutes before serving, cook the rice according to the package directions.
  4. Just before serving, add the yogurt and ½ teaspoon salt to the chicken and stir to combine. Serve with the rice and sprinkle with the scallions.

...Okay, now I am serious, what else can I make in this wonder of an appliance?

p.s. Sorry I keep posting so many recipes and so little...anything else. I would like to play the Still Transitioning to Fall card now. Please and thank you.


500 days of:

  • Who squeezes the toothpaste IN THE MIDDLE?!!
  • You are so not a morning person.
  • Your car is totaled.
  • New last name.
  • (sigh) Yeah, let's talk budget.
  • You never told me that!...no, you didn't!
  • Thank you!
  • Date nights.
  • I'm sorry.
  • Um, the keys are locked in the car...
  • Remember our wedding day?
  • Cereal for dinner!
  • We'll figure it out.
  • I'm really glad you're here.
  • ...one more episode before bed?
  • I'm proud of you.
  • I don't know what to do.
  • Worst day EVER!
  • I miss our friends.
  • Do I have gray hair?
  • You better be kidding.
  • I can't believe she's gone.
  • I love you.
  • Mr. and Mrs. Robertson.

Best day ever.

(Okay, fine, 503 days as Adam so patiently calculated. Close enough.)


Well, why didn't you say so.

At our favorite bustling Mexican restaurant on Taco Tuesday:

Me: (sliding into the booth) So what are you having?

Him: (leaning closer) What?

Me: (louder) What are you eating?

Him: Huh?

Me: (above the many clinking dishes and many screaming children) What are YOU. EATING?!

Him: (puzzled look) Um, chips and salsa...?


Him: We communicate so well.


Recipe: Fall, Let's Be Friends Blueberry Cobbler

It's been a week of early alarms, lots of coffee and more than one moment of Fall ruins EVERYTHING! as our daily obligations increased ten million fold overnight and our fun factor dipped as quickly as Wall Street. 

Annnnnyway, before you accuse me of killing the Friday mood, let me get right to the point: Sometimes, for me, baking can be a confidence booster and thus an attitude booster and THUS good for everyone. Plus, you get to eat the fruits of your labor, and most of the time it is a good thing.

(Note: all is null and void if the recipe falls apart because then SO DO MY EMOTIONS. I know. I'm a hot mess. It's fine.)

So, where were we? Ah. Yes. I hate fall, I like sweets and I make inappropriate jokes about our stock market.

This brings me to last night when I was just ho-humming along, reading a bit of this, distracting my teacher husband, looking forward to watching the Season 1 finale of this (OMG! INSANE!!!) and generally avoiding everything on my to-do list. Because it was Thursday. Which is pretty much Friday. Which is WEEKEND thus all responsibility is effectively rendered MIA til Monday! Duh.

So what did I decide to do with my time? Why, make blueberry cobbler, of course! I had blueberries that were itching to be used and I figured if anything would make me a teensy bit nicer to Fall, it would be a delicious, warm fruity/cinnamon-y/brown sugared goodness.

And I was right.

And I ate it with ice cream.

And then Fall and I became best friends.

Don't take my (many many) word(s) for it, go try for yourself!

Recipe: Fall, Let's Be Friends Blueberry Cobbler
(which is really just this recipe but mine was more "cobbler" than "crumble bars" if you know what I'm saying. Thus the ice cream. Also, I just really believe ice cream makes everything better.)

You need:
1 1/2 cup rolled oats
3/4 cup flour
3/4 cup brown sugar
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/2 cup butter + 2 tablespoons
1 cup blueberries

This is what you do: 
Preheat oven to 350.
In a large bowl, combine flour, sugar, oats, cinnamon and salt and mix until combined. Melt the 1/2 cup of butter and add it, along with the vanilla, to the oat mixture. Stir until moistened. Fold in the blueberries.
Press batter into 8 x8 pan. Melt remaining butter and drizzle it over the bars. Bake for 20 minutes, the let cool completely – this can take up to 45 minutes! Cut and serve. Can be kept in the fridge or at room temperature in a sealed container.


Tick, tock.

It's back to school time at the Robertsons and if you hear a faint "Nooooooooooooooooooooo!" howling from your speakers, I apologize. I'm not exactly welcoming the season with open arms. (Exhibit A: the return of my persnickety eye twitch. Drat!)

I used to look forward to the fall because a) I'm a nerd and love school and b) the beginning of a school year always seemed like a good time to start fresh--new shoes, organized supplies, lists upon lists of goals, etc. for the year.

(Note to any snarky comments coming from my little brother: YES, we have already established that I am a nerd so NO NEED TO REMIND ME.)


The trouble is, when my Type A First-Born Child starts showing, I get caught in the all-too-familiar web of a) craving order b) making too many goals and c) wondering if I'm "doing it wrong".

Because I want to do it all! And brilliantly! And, well, there just isn't enough time in the day. So I zig-zag all over the place and end up tired, cranky and curled up in the fetal position with a bowl of Puppy Chow and a spoon, (OH LIKE YOU ARE PERFECT!) wanting to do nothing for no one and swinging my pendulum back the other way.

But then I get bored and a bit panicky and all too comfortable and then even more panicky because I'm comfortable and all the while think opportunity is passing me by.

And I don't really know how to find that right balance.

And I kind of want to run seven steps forward--or maybe two steps to the left?--or maybe just throw up my hands and just go, already.

Really, I'm just saying a really long-winded "Ditto" to this guy.

...and now also craving puppy chow. Shoot.


Come on, y'all

Okay, fine, I'm no Tami Taylor but can you blame a girl for trying?

Now listen close friends, because this is serious. SERIOUS, I tell you!

About the time summer peeked around the corner and began wooing us with sunny skies and growing tomato plants (such a tease), The Robertsons began watching a little thing called FNL.

I had heard good things. I added it nonchalantly to the Netflix queue thinking it would be a fun thing to watch on a night I was flying solo. BUT THEN Adam watched the pilot with me. And would you believe he agreed to watch another? And another? And suddenly we were so knee-deep into Dillon, TX drama that we were just a few pairs of boots away from Texas Forever!

BUT NOW it is over. Gone! Done! Off the air! No more Landry! No more Lila! NO MORE TAYLORS! (well, I mourn them all but Julie. OBVIOUSLY.)

So, I turn to you dear, sweet friends.

I know you may be thinking, "Sara. You did this last year with LOST. You did this last May when Michael Scott left. Get a grip!"

To which I would reply, "YOU GUYS, all my current faves have not come out with their newest seasons on Instant Watcher (here's looking at you, you and you) and things are getting desperate around here!"

And also, "Since when is it a crime to wear your heart on your sleeve?!"


...See what you made me do?

The point is, I need you. You came through so much for me when on the lookout for new books. Won't you pretty please tell me what you are watching and loving? (Bonus points if it is on Instant Watcher.)

Oh, and don't worry, I am eating old office chocolate cake so I'll be much more positive as soon as my frosting-induced cavities kick in.

Have a great weekend! Or as my mysterious-sometimes-idiotic-yet-strangely-intriguing friend Tim would say, "Cheers."

(He doesn't exclaim things otherwise you know I would add about five !!!!!)

((why yes, I do have a life...why do you ask?))



Well helloooooo long lost friends! It's been awhile.

We are back from vacay and I have been slowly but surely easing my way back into all things real life and after living a week unplugged, it has taken me a bit to catch my breath.

I could tell you a lot of things about my time away, such as our fabulous company, yummy food, books read, perspective gained, naps taken, new goals set.

I could talk about how nice it was to get away, catch a breath, take it easy.

The greatest thing for me, though, was a moment on a mini-hike one quiet afternoon as we meandered our way down a tree-lined trail behind our cabin.

I was thinking about the year, soaking up some sun (and keeping an eye out for BEARS which okay fine I was terrified of seeing even if the odds of doing so were oh-so-slim) and still trying to make sense of all the crazy bumps we've had along our way the last few seasons.

We've seen a lot of people go through a lot of hard things. We've gone through some hard things ourselves. And several times I looked around and felt so very small, so insignificant, so forgotten. And I would try my hardest to look outside of myself and my circumstances, but when you're feeling empty and depleted, and when your world seems to be a bit rattled and your mind is whirling, well, even when you try to look outside your story, everything seems to be a bit tilted, off-color, blurry.

But you keep going. And it gets better. But it still leaves you a bit shaky as you try to put one foot in front of the other.

So there I was on that trail breathing in some crisp mountain air as the sun dazzled on the nearby lake and the trees towered and the mountains loomed in the distance and it seemed impossible to do anything but gaze outside myself. And I had to keep reminding myself to watch where I was going because I was surrounded by so much beauty. And I felt so small, so insignificant, so forgotten.

And oh, how wonderful to get lost in a bigger story again.