Best idea of the week. Maybe month.

I can't take credit. My aunt, who gave me a bag of yellow corn tortillas yesterday, is the brain behind this: homemade tortilla chips.

I love, love, love restaurant-style tortilla chips. It's next to impossible to find quality chips at the grocery store. And it had never really occurred me to make them at home. That is, until my aunt suggested it.

So tonight I set out to make the warm, crispy, salty tortilla chips that I've only found in Mexican restaurants. Mission accomplished. Even someone who's as incompetent in the kitchen as me can pull it off.

Here's what you need to do:

Pre-heat oven to 350 degrees.

Cut small corn tortillas into six triangles. (I used about a 1/3 of a bag for two people)
Set the tortillas on a cookie sheet.
Brush them with a 1:2 mix of olive oil and lime juice (1 tbsp. olive oil, 2 tbsp. lime juice)
Sprinkle with salt.
Sprinkle with chili powder (optional).

Bake for 7 to 8 minutes on each side at 350 degrees.

I plan to make more chips tomorrow night and can't wait to share them with family and friends. Yeah, they're that good.

Check out these beauties

If journalism doesn't pan out, I could always be a pastry chef.

I made these little beauties today and made sure I had the above evidence to prove it. They did come from a box cake, but I added strawberry Jello flavoring and low-fat whip topping and sprinkles. Sprinkles.

The icing on the cake? They're delish. I ate three this afternoon.

Yeah, I won't be quitting my day job, which I enjoy, anytime soon. But I'm proud of these sweetheart cupcakes.

Minnesota -- and the insanity of stepping outside in winter

I have witnessed two acts of amazing, crazy, pure dedication -- or desperation, perhaps -- during the last two days. And the blue ribbon belongs to smokers.

Yesterday, at 15 below zero (not including the butt-biting wind chill), I saw a man driving down Nicollett Avenue puffing on his cig with his car window rolled down. Better to suffer frost bite than have your vehicle smell like an ash tray.

And today, just as my toes were about to fall off from the four-block walk to work and I was yelling expletives in my head, I saw a woman standing outside my building smoking. Without a coat. Or gloves. Or a hat. Or a scarf.

Holy poop.

Didn't they get the memo? It's frickin' cold outside.

I write this as I sit shivering at home, in my pajama pants and a long-sleeved shirt, slippers and Pepto Bismol-colored robe (it's not attractive).

Then again, I went to a press conference today that was outside. As in out on the street and not indoors. I stood out there for an hour in my pointy, not-so-insulated boots. Finally, a colleague threw a headband at me, told me that my ears looked like they were about to fall off and urged me to come to my senses...after I had turned down his offer earlier in the afternoon. So I put it on.

My fingers -- though properly covered -- still suffered. The Raynaud's disease (the poor circulation problem I have in my fingers) raged, and I almost sat on the quiet residential street because I swore I was a minute or two away from throwing up due to the pain. Damn you, Raynauds.

Next time -- if there is a next time -- I will have a hat, the expensive pair of "warmest" gloves I own from the Running Room and boots with a wool-lined interior.

So many kitchen misadventures to be had, so little time

I realize that I'm not living up to the title of this blog. As of late, I've had very few kitchen misadventures.

I can only blame myself. My work schedule hasn't been too demanding, although that's likely to change with a new job that I started yesterday. I also like to plant my lazy butt in front of the TV and eat a bowl of oatmeal with brown sugar (this is a recent discovery, and I've fallen in love with oatmeal) while Ben sits nearby with work he has brought home. I forget how romantic it can be to spend time in the kitchen with your significant other.

Today, I'm working the 3-to-11 shift, which means I've had the morning to myself. It reminds me of this summer and how I foolishly complained about having all the time in the world to get in trouble in the kitchen. I long for the days when I can spend as much or as little time as I want in the kitchen, go for a run with my buddy Naomi in the morning or afternoon and have hours to read magazines and books.

Until then, I'll work on the kitchen misadventure part a little more.