These tacos were eaten at 10am.

While I could say they were an early lunch, they were my fourth breakfast.

Yes, fourth.

Lest you think I am a total glutton, I did skip dinner that day.

(Don’t let Mr. Hausfrau convince you I did that just to get straight to dessert. He sits on a throne of lies.)

(Not really.)

While a supposed dessert-for-dinner is a dietary disaster, these tacos at 10am certainly are not.

They’re a mouthful to say – Vegan Tempeh Tacos with Avocado Lime Crema – and a mouthful to chew. A healthy and delightful one, I should add. The tempeh was marinated overnight in maple and spices, then sauteed up the next day in a smidge of olive oil. Did I mention, too, that the tempeh was cubed for maximum crispness opportunity? It matters.

Tangoing away in that taco with the tempeh is vegan pepperjack cheese, salsa fresca, and shredded lettuce, all topped with that avocado-lime crema that’s so tangy, fresh and creamy avocado-y that I’d like to tango with it myself.

In fact I did. No one was home but the dogs, so there’s no proof of me dipping and shimmying with a bottle of creamy green stuff. Thank you, Jebus. THAT would be embarrassing.

Will you just take my word for it that these were nothing short of glorious and almost life changing? I won’t require you to dance with your food, and I wouldn’t even advise you to eat these tacos at 10 am. But then again, I’m not stopping you.

Vegan Tempeh Tacos with Avocado-Lime Crema

1 6-ounce block tempeh, cubed
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 teaspoon soy sauce
1/4 teaspoon pepper
1 teaspoon vegan worcestershire sauce
1/2 teaspoon barbecue seasoning
1/4 teaspoon cumin
1/4 cup cashews, soaked 6 hours
2 tablespoons lime juice
1 small avocado
6 tablespoons water
1/2 teaspoon Lawry’s seasoned salt

Corn tortillas
Vegan pepperjack cheese
shredded lettuce
salsa fresca

To make the tempeh: In a medium bowl, combine the olive oil, soy sauce, pepper, worcestershire, barbecue seasoning and cumin. Add the tempeh cubes and toss until well coated. Allow the tempeh to marinate at least 2 hours or overnight. Saute the cubes over medium-high heat in a bit of olive oil until browned and crispy.

To make the avocado-lime crema: Drain the cashew and combine them in the bowl of a food processor wiht the lime juice, avocado, water, and seasoned salt. Puree until smooth and fluffy.

To assemble the tacos: Lightly toast the corn tortillas until warm and layer the lettuce, cheese, salsa fresca, sauteed tempeh within, topping with the avocado-lime crema.

If I knew someone who was getting married or having a baby, this is the dish I would bring to the shower.

Yes, I’d saunter in with my hair all shiny and flippy and my dress not-slutty with this Mediterranean 7-Layer Dip clutched protectively to my bosom. But not so protectively that I dip my bosom into it. That would be awkward.

I’d say my hellos, all hugs and kisses and clouds of perfume, and place my special dish on the center kitchen island, carefully removing the plastic wrap so as to not dislodge one single, strategic sprinkle or layer of hummus, tapenade, yogurt, pesto, feta, grape tomato, red onion, parsley. The guest-of-honor’s grandmother’s sister’s best friend, Linda, would be hovering at my elbow, oohing and ahhing. Is that lemon zest?

Yes, in fact, it is lemon zest, ethereal whispers of brightness threaded amongst the onions and parsley. Linda would be making such a production of my zest whispers, gesticulating madly with her freshly manicured hands, that it would attract a small crowd of inquiring minds. What’s in there? How clever! That must have taken you all day to make!

I would smile sheepishly, in the way that my almost half-dimple appears.

I would not, under any circumstance, tell them it took me all of 10 minutes to throw it together because I just opened up a bunch of containers from Trader Joe’s.

I wouldn’t tell them I was inspired by the traditional mexican dip, but I nixed the actual mexican idea because I thought it too trashy to bring to a high-falutin shower like this.

No one wants stinky refried beans alongside Quiche Lorraine and pink cupcakes.

No offense to mexican food, of course. I can love all over, up, and under some refried beans and cheese but it just doesn’t seem to fit every occasion, ya know. Plus, Linda wouldn’t want to get any under her nails..

So I translated those 7 layers to something Mediterranean, that makes you think whitewashed houses studding a greek coastline. It something that requires pita chips or fancy crackers and a glass of Pinot Noir. It’s classy, with an honest-to-Goddess capital “C.”

Now, if only I knew someone who was knocked up or getting hitched – I wouldn’t be sitting on the couch, scraping the remnants of these 7 layers out of that pie dish with a Dorito (because I polished off the pita chips earlier in the day).

Mediterranean 7-Layer Dip

2 1/2 cups hummus
1 cup greek yogurt
1/3 cup pesto
3/4 cup tapenade
3/4 cup feta
1/2 cup grape tomatoes, cut in halves
1/4 cup red onion, finely diced
1 tablespoon freshly parsley, chopped
1 tablespoon fresh basil, chopped
1 teaspoon lemon zest

In a serving dish, arrange the layers in following order, starting from the bottom: hummus, yogurt, pesto, tapenade, feta, tomatoes, red onion, parsley, basil, lemon zest. Keep refrigerated until ready to serve. Can be assembled one day ahead of serving.

This is not your traditional St. Patrick’s day corned beef.

And canoodling up to the beef – that isn’t your traditional St. Patrick’s day cabbage.

In fact, you could say that corned beef and cabbage is a total betrayal of the holiday tradition. But! But! Betrayal is our theme today, in honor of the Ides of March.

Oh, the soothsayer could never have predicted such a twist as this.

(And, oh, I’m such a nerd.)

If only the soothsayer knew what it was to have those meaty, salty-sweet slices of barbecue-glazed corned beef pass his lips, Caesar’s prophecy would surely have been gentler and kinder. Had the soothsayer known that cabbage was roasted in thick wedges and liberally doused with a lemony dijon oil, good ole’ Jules may have come away alive. Perhaps with only his neighbor dicking him over by calling the HOA about the rotting soffit above his garage.

Alas, I’m not sure that either corned beef or barbecue sauce existed in Roman times. Or Shakespeare’s times. Which definitely puts a monkey wrench into my story. And keeps Brutus one big, bad jerk who’d do swimmingly on the Real Househusbands of Ancient Rome.

Bravo, are you writing all this down? Tell Andy Cohen I have a crush on him that’s nearly as ill-fated as Julius Caesar’s reign. Call me!

I know I’m breaking some rules with this corned beef and cabbage. I’ve probably taken a few liberties that I”m not even aware of. That’s what happens when you’re Jewish and the only corned beef you know is being slapped steaming between two slices of rye bread and smothered with spicy brown mustard, crumbling tumbling out the sides each time you pick the sandwich up, served alongside a crispy half-done pickle. *Sigh*

I’m a little verklempt. Corned beef and cabbage – talk amongst yourselves.

Barbecue Glazed Corned Beef and Dijon Roasted Cabbage

1 corned beef brisket (3 to 5 lbs), soaked overnight in cold water to remove excess salt
1/2 cup barbecue sauce
2 tablespoons brown sugar
2 tablespoons lemon juice
2 teaspoons dijon mustard
3 tablespoons olive oil
salt and pepper

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.

Remove the corned beef from its cold water soak and place it in a medium roasting pan, fat side up. Cover with the barbeque sauce and sprinkle the top of the meat with brown sugar. Cover the dish tightly with foil and bake for 2 hours.

Remove the foil and turn the oven up to broil. Finish the brisket under the broiler for approximately 5 minutes, until bubbly and crisp. Allow the meat to rest 10 minutes before slicing.

For the cabbage: Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.

Whisk the olive oil, lemon juice, and dijon mustard in a small bowl. Set aside

Slice the cabbage into 8 evenly sized wedges and arrange them in a 9 x 13 dish so the wedges touch but don’t overlap. Brush the wedges liberally with the olive oil mixture. Season with salt and pepper and place in the oven and roast 30 minutes, until browned and wilted.

The Spring Cleaning Project of 2012 started last week up in herrrrrre.

Just a few months ago, the Thankgiving Organization Attack went down like a clown. So you’d think a spring cleaning just a few, short months later would be bing-bang-boom and done.

Pshaw.

So far, I’ve sorted at least 12 bins of clothing and thrown away no less than 23 bag of STUFF. At least half of that has been trash. I think our trash has babies. Otherwise, there’s no reasonable explanation for how we accumulate so much junk in so little time.

I’ll admit I did go a little overboard stocking up on holiday baking supplies. I really did intend to go through all those bags white chocolate, dark chocolate, milk chocolate, butterscotch, and mint chips. I just fell into a sugar coma before I could get to those bags wayyyyyyy in the back of the pantry.

But, there’s no sugar overload here today. I’m purging. I’m repurposing. I’m making room. For more baking supplies, no doubt.

I’m also having fun throwing together a little bit of this and that, while emptying a few more jars and shelf space – as evidenced by these candy cups featuring a semisweet chocolate bottom and a butterscotch top.

They’re stuffed with Biscoff cookies and Biscoff spread. Oh, yes. I like stuff stuffed with stuff. It sounds like the story of my life.

Oh, and those sprinkles on top? I don’t even remember buying those. Ha ha! Laugh with me here, so I don’t sound like a nervous giggler.

Sprinkles don’t go bad, right?

Well, even if they do, it’s only a few intermittent flakes of Botulism. More importantly, that’s one more container I can get out of the pantry. CHA CHING.

Butterscotch Chocolate Biscoff Cups

1 1/2 cups butterscotch chips
1 cup semisweet chocolate chips
2 tablespoons coconut oil, divided
1/4 cup Biscoff spread
3 Biscoff cookies, cut into quarters
chocolate sprinkles for garnish

Line a 12-hole muffin pan with paper liners. Set aside.

Place the chocolate chips in a microwave-safe bowl with 1 tablespoon coconut oil. Heat the chips in the microwave at 30 second intervals until 80 percent melted, stirring after each heating interval. Once the chips are 80% melted, stir the chocolate mixture continuously until fully melted and smooth.

Pour a scant tablespoon of the chocolate into the bottom of each paper-lined muffin hole. Place the pan in the refrigerator and allow the chocolate to chill and set for 30 minutes.

After 30 minutes, remove the pan from the refrigerator and place 1 teaspoon Biscoff spread in the center of the chilled chocolate. Place 1 Biscoff cookie quarter on top of the spread and press down lightly. Set aside.

Place the butterscotch chips in a microwave safe bowl with 1 tablespoon coconut oil. Heat the chips in the microwave at 30 second intervals until 80 percent melted, stirring after each heating interval. Once the chips are 80% melted, stir the butterscotch mixture continuously until fully melted and smooth.

Pour a heaping tablespoon of the butterscotch mixture over each Biscoff-filled chocolate layer, shaking the pan lightly to evenly fill each hole and cover the Biscoff completely. Decorate with sprinkles, if desired. Place in the refrigerator to chill and set for 30 minutes.

Serve. Keep the uneaten cups refrigerated. And hidden from other humans.

It’s high time this blog featured something cute in shot glasses.

And, really, I’m already kicking myself. While the whole shot glass idea is admittedly really cute, it’s also really hackneyed.

BUT, I recently ate at Seasons 52 and their desserts are served in little shot glasses and they’re all so insanely delicious and cute and it’s totally okay if you choose 5 out of the 7 they offer you because they’re all calorie-controlled and healthy or something like that. So I, too, shall give you shot glasses filled with delicious stuff.

And, it’s actually good-for-you stuff. Since I’m already cleaning out your insides with the juice I posted earlier in the week, I’ll just ride that raw, vegan wave out to never-never land and give you some more stuff that’s healthy and permissible if you eat all 3 shot glasses.

Maybe.

This mousse was also inspired by a recipe from The 3-Day Cleanse. It’s derived from their raw chocolate cashew milk that I tasted and instantly decided it is nectar from the Gods. Upon my second sip, I declared that every stinkin’ day should be raw chocolate cashew milk day. 90 seconds later, when I guzzled all 16 ounces and tried to move, only to feel it luridly sloshing around in my belly, I revised my opinion and wondered what I can do about incorporating the flavors into something with, say, a little less liquid.

And this is it and it’s worth waiting the blasted 6 hours to soak the cashews. So worth it. I generally don’t even go gaga for straight chocolatey desserts (you’ll hate me for saying that), but this stuff has my tongue seeking every nook and cranny of that shot glass. I kinda feel like Snooki, pre-pregnancy.

Whatever you do, when you make this, go out and buy the real deal cacoa powder or grind down cacao nibs into a powder. That raw cacao powder is key, with all that sexy, intoxicating, deep, rich flavor that will turn you, too, into THAT girl at the bar, trying too hard to impress THAT guy by showing off her tongue skills.

Cacoa is where it’s at. Cocoa is whacked.

Raw Vegan Chocolate Mouse

1 cup cashews, soaked 6 hours and drained
2 tablespoons agave syrup
4 teaspoons coconut oil
1 vanilla bean, scraped
1/2 cup water
2 tablespoons raw cacao powder
raw cacao nibs for garnish

Combine all the ingredients in the bowl of a food processor and puree for 3-4 minutes, periodically scraping the bowl, until the mixture is creamy and fluffy. Chill 1 hour to further thicken the mousse. Serve garnished with raw cacao nibs.

Be prepared to hate me now – I did a juice cleanse, and I liked it.

That’s right – for 3 days, I drank nothing but juice, juice, juice. 6 times a day. Juice with kale, spinach, parsley. Juice with cucumber and carrots. Pineapple and cilantro. A cashew milk for “dinner.”

Who am I?

A few months ago, I’m sprinkling bacon on donuts and marshmallows. Today I’m talking about juicing? If it’s any consolation, I tried to juice a nice chunk of pork belly but it clogged the damn thing up.

No, not really. And, wow, that’s gross.

It’s just like this: Remember when I said that my guts hate me. Well, I showed them who’s boss with an ass ton of produce. And guess what? My guts don’t hate me anymore. In fact, they don’t even rumble back at me after most meals. I can ease back on the pimple cream because those went buh-bye. The stock price of Coca Cola products must be plummeting because I’ve eased off my 8-a day Coke Zero habit (yes, you read that right). I have MAYBE 1 soda a day. That’s my new happy hour.

In short, my pants are fitting better, and I’m feeling better – quite glorious, in fact.

Have mercy for small miracles.

And my new favorite way to start the day? With a green juice. My new favorite afternoon refresher. Another juice. Ugh, what happened to me?

Perhaps I’ll ponder that during my next cleanse.

(Which is now. Squeeee!)

(Ugh, I’m annoying myself.)

In the meantime, I’ll share with y’all one of my favorite juice refreshers that will be a perfect way to unwind on the deck come one upcoming spring evening.

(And if all this healthy stuff offends you, I promise to look the other way when you drop a hefty slug of vodka in the glass.)

Cucumber Grape Juice Cooler
(Adapted from The 3 Day Cleanse)

10 ounces green grapes
1/2 a large cucumber
1 pear
1 large stalk celery
1 lime, peeled
3 sprigs mint

Juice all the items on low speed once. If desired, run any wet pulp back through the juicer. Serve immediately.

Is it too late to get in on the Brussels Sprouts party?

What, with it being March and all. We’re all fantasizing about the budding spring trees (er, unless you had a really mild spring like Baltimore did and the trees are kinda, sorta already budding. Freaky, but welcome). The gardens are planned, the pantry is stocked with pastel colored sprinkles.

This post should wax poetic about the season’s first asparagus and the subsequent smelly pee. Or maybe the bulbs I’m getting ready to plant. But, uh, I kinda, sorta don’t know what bulbs are because I kinda, sorta can’t even keep a plastic plant alive. Yeah, my garden is planned and it’s called Wegmans. Whole Foods if I’m feeling really fancy.

Furthermore, I’m a realist. It’s March 1st. The air is still dry enough to cause random nose bleeds and we’re still wearing sweaters, so we’re still eating brussels sprouts, mkay?

Besides, who can put a kibosh on those adorable, little cabbagy things? Coincidentally, the rest of the world has caught on and who isn’t tickled with that? They’re popping up on menus everywhere. It makes me proud and misty eyed. Perhaps it’s the world’s efforts converging with mine to convert my husband into a BL (that’s Brussels Lover).

It’ll take a village.

A village full of people pinning him down and forcing him to eat. just. one.

In the meantime, if those brussels sprouts are anything like these babies, all roasted soft and crispy, tossed in a tangy, sweet and slightly smoky vinaigrette, I’ll gladly eat his portion and mine.

Zesty Brussels Sprouts

1 pound brussels sprouts, rinsed, trimmed and cut into halves
5 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil, divided
1 tablespoon dijon mustard
1 tablespoon balsamic vinegar
1/2 teaspoon agave syrup
1 teaspoon worcestershire sauce (use a vegetarian version to keep these vegan)
2 tablespoons parsley, chopped

Preheat the oven to 400.

In a small bowl, whisk together 3 tablespoons olive oil, dijon mustard, balsamic vinegar, agave, and worcestershire sauce until thickened and creamy. Set aside

In a large bowl, toss the halved brussels sprouts with 2 tablespoons olive oil. Arrange the sprouts in a single layer on a sheet pan and roast 25-30 minutes, stirring occasionally, until browned and crispy. Toss with the reserved vinaigrette and fold in the parsley before serving.

February is National Sweet Potato month. Haaaaaaay!

Betcha’ didn’t know that.

Neither did I. Which is why I’m busting out the sweet potatoes on February 27th. Whatevs.

Actually, that isn’t why I’m telling you about sweet potato donuts today. This is.

That torch there has been in my hopes, dreams, and fantasies for several years. Too many years. I’m don’t know why I couldn’t bring myself to spring $35 on a kitchen torch but have no problem springing, oh, a few bits more on another pair of Frye boots. I think I should like to open a store.

More about that another day. Today, it’s all about my torch and how I can’t find enough things to singe, er, sear.

I hope I’ll get as much use out of it as I get out of my donut pan.

Would it be really wrong to say that my donut pan has more miles on it than Lindsay Lohan’s bedsprings?

Sorry, Lilo. Doesn’t mean I’m not rooting for you to turn it around, girlfriend.

But, really, back to these donuts – they’re commemorative aaaand they’re healthy because they contain oatmeal. The oatmeal slows down the absorption of all that glazed and torched sugar on top of the donuts, right? The oatmeal also makes these donuts all wholesome and whatnot.

You’ll be happy to have these plump beauties on the countertop, with their gentle, comforting spices mingling with that moist sweet potato, tangled with those nutty oats under a crispy, toasty, burnt sugar shell.

Of course you don’t NEED a torch to get these all crispy – a quick run under the broiler will bring you that same toasty effect. And probably make your whole house smell like burnt sugar. Which is always, always a good thing.

Sweet Potato Oatmeal Brulee Donuts

1 cup rolled oats
1 cup flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon nutmeg
1 cup sweet potato puree
3/4 cup brown sugar, packed
1/3 cup oil
1/4 cup sour cream
1 egg, beaten
1 tablespoon vanilla

2 tablespoons brown sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla
1 cup powdered sugar
2-3 tablespoons milk

1/4 cup brown sugar

Preheat the oven to 400.

In a large bowl, whisk together the oats, flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt, cinnamon, and nutmeg. Set aside.

In a medium bowl, combine the sweet potato puree, 3/4 cup brown sugar, oil, sour cream, egg and 1 tablespoon vanilla until well blended.

Pour the wet ingredients into the dry and fold until the mixture combined. Don’t overmix. Spoon the batter into a greased donut pan, filling the wells 2/3 full.

Bake 12 minutes, or until a tester comes out clean. Cool the donuts completely before removing them from the pan and glazing them.

For the glaze: In a small bowl, whisk together the 2 tablespoons brown sugar, 1 teaspoon vanilla, powdered sugar and milk until a thick but drippy glaze is formed.

For the burnt sugar topping: Place the 1/4 cup brown sugar in a small, shallow dish.

To finish the donuts, arrange a cooling rack over a sheet pan. Dip the top of the donuts in the glaze and set the donuts, glazed side up, on the cooling rack, allowing the excess glaze to drip down. Allow the glaze to harden one minute.

Dip the glazed donuts, glazed side down, into the remaining brown sugar. Run the sugared donuts under the broiler or fire them with a torch until the glaze begins to brown and bubble. Allow the glaze to cool and harden before eating the donuts.

Perhaps it’s because I have 3 dogs, 2 of which like to go hunting for “chocolates” in the yard.

Perhaps it’s because my immaturity is fueled by a (sometimes) man-child known as Mr. Hausfrau.

Perhaps it’s because I’m just a thoroughly inappropriate person without a filter, but I think no-bake cookies are one of the most unappealing desserts for the one precise reason that they actually look like poopie.

The recipes always sound good and easy to make, but when I get to the part in the cooking directions where I have to drop those little chocolatey piles on a sheet of wax paper, I change my mind and decide to heft out the Kitchen Aid and make a traditional cookie instead.

Unless! Unless! How about I trick myself? What if I make those no-bakes and instead of dropping the cooked mixture into those, um, piles, I chill the mixture until it’s cooled and firm but pliable. And then I can take that dough and form it into little balls.

Oh geez, how cute is that? And portable, hello?! I’m totally okay with bagging up a few of these balls and busting them out in the car, in the movies, in the line at Walgreen’s.

I bet I would even inspire some snack envy from a few onlookers. They may even ask me WHAT is that? And WHAT is the recipe? And I would brag to them that it’s a no-bake recipe. I’d further impress them by admitting that I cleaned the recipe up, took out the highly processed junk, and made them healthy.

They’d walk away from the conversation totally convinced that A) they just had a life changing encounter and, B) the time for no-bakes is RIGHT NOW.

To which I would say, “Amen.”

Chocolate Coconut No-Bake Balls

1 1/3 cup agave
4 tablespoons cocoa powder
1 stick butter
1/2 cup milk
1 cup coconut butter
1 tablespoon vanilla
3 1/2 cups rolled oats
3/4 cup unsweetened shredded coconut
1/3 cup cocoa nibs

In a large saucepan, Bring the agave, cocoa, butter, and milk to a boil and allow the mixture to boil 1 minute.

Remove the mixture from the heat and stir in the coconut butter, vanilla, oats, coconut, and cocoa nibs until fully blended. Transfer the mixture to a large bowl and allow mixture to cool on the counter before placing in the refrigerator to chill for 2 hours.

Working with the chilled oat mixture, roll into 1-inch sized balls. Serve. (Keep the leftovers refrigerated)

I’ll be 35 years old in May. For the last 34 1/2 years of my life, I’ve hated avocado. Until 6 weeks ago, when I fell head over heels in love with avocado and decided that I will dedicate the rest of my life making up for lost time between me and the avocado.

It’s kinda weird and pretty embarassing and no, I can’t for the everloving life of me explain it. Right now, all I can do is love all over that creamy, dreamy stuff, and I can’t find enough ways to cram it in my pie hole.

Hence, this chicken salad. Not that chicken salad needs any enhancement to make it the cat’s meow. Chicken salad on it’s own is pretty groovy. It’s certainly the highlight of any baby or bridal shower for me. I’ve even got a chicken salad rating system.

Points are deducted for a dressing that’s too loose. Further points are lost if the chicken pieces are too precisely square. I want to see some pieces that are shredded or torn. It makes me imagine someone in the kitchen savagely tearing apart a poached chicken breast with their bare hands. It’s so primal, so strange, yet so right for chicken salad.

Small bits of celery are a definite plus. But keep it small. Bits. Not chunks, ya know. Chunks are gross.

A little bit of dried fruit? Okay, now you’re really starting to impress me. Why haven’t we met before?

Served perfectly chilled, in some sort of carb contraption with a crisp leaf of lettuce? Leave me alone and let me sunbathe in all that salad glory. (Hope you don’t mind that I’m overdue for some waxing, though.)

So, as you can gather, this chicken salad meets all my requirements. AND there’s avocado in there to add a “Sweet Jesus, whatever is in here, I’d like to sleep with it” dimension that only avocado can add.

Oh, but I wish I knew how to quit you. . . .

Avocado Chicken Salad

1/2 an avocado
1 tablespoon lime
1/2 cup mayo
6 tablespoons sour cream
1/2 teaspoon worcestershire sauce
1/2 teaspoon Lawry’s season salt
2 1/2 cups poached or roasted chicken breast, roughly chopped
1/3 cup celery, diced
1/3 cup dried cranberries

Combine the avocado, lime, mayonnaise, sour cream, worcestershire sauce, and season salt in a food processor and process until smooth. Transfer the dressing to a large bowl and fold in the chicken, celery, and dried cranberries until well-combined. Chill in the refrigerator at least 1 hour before serving.