Happy Labor Day everyone! Today we are heading to a barbecue and enjoying these glorious cooler temperatures that have arrived in southern California just in time for the holiday weekend. But before we go, we had to share a delicious tropical cocktail for all your last-minute party-planning needs, a refreshing twist on the piña colada. It is incredibly easy to make and literally takes just thirty seconds in the blender. Here, light rum is mixed with cream of coconut, pineapple juice, passion fruit puree, freshly squeezed lime juice, and blended with ice to make a creamy and refreshing beverage inspired by the Puerto Rican classic. Garnished with a strawberry, a slice of pineapple, and a colorful paper umbrella, the only labor you’ll need to do today is print out this recipe and plug in your blender!
How did this happen? The calendar is trying to tell us that tomorrow is the last day of summer, but we are just getting started! The saddest part is that we have to wait an entire year to enjoy another burst tomato galette! (which we made on our instagram story last night) This just isn’t fair. So to soothe our sorrows and ease our minds, we’d like to close out the summer with a bang. Labor Day is this weekend, and boy do we gotcha covered. Have no fear, the Husbands are here, this time with a sweet treat that’s going to put a ribbon on your summer vacation and blast you off into pumpkin season, warm sweaters, and homemade apple pies. Say hello to mocha pudding parfaits, the star of this weekend’s festivities.
I (Adam) remember the day we brought home the new 1977 Cadillac Seville. With a stylish light tan exterior and a dark brown top, it had more space for the family, the beige leather seats were soft and comfortable, it boasted automatic locks and windows, it was our first car with air conditioning, and best of all it had a fancy 8-track cassette deck. I still clearly remember the music collection that my parents kept in that car: there was a bright blue Barry Manilow Live cassette that I would obsessively sing along with until I lost my voice or until my parents couldn’t take it anymore and asked me to stop. My mom worked in real estate, and this was the new luxury car for showing clients around town, an impressive replacement for the dark blue ’65 Volkswagen bug that she had been driving since her 16th birthday. Despite its classy appearance, the Cadillac ended up having lots of problems over the years. When I was fourteen, it caught fire one night as we were driving home through Topanga Canyon. The engine started to make an awful sound, and when I looked out the window, flames were shooting out from the sides of the car. We immediately pulled over, and ran as far away as we could. There we stood, helpless, on the side of the road in the middle of the dark canyon, waiting for the car to explode.
Two summers ago we visited a floating bar in the middle of the British Virgin Islands that served the best Bloody Marys we have ever tasted. Only accessible by small boats, the steel ship—converted into a two-story restaurant and bar—is regularly filled with smiling customers wearing bathing suits, flip flops, and sunglasses. Once people get a few cocktails to build their confidence, the fun begins and you can watch them jump from the second story balcony into the crystal clear ocean twenty-five feet below. Our brave niece, Stella, who was nine at the time, lost all inhibitions after downing a few Shirley Temples, and decided to jump with the adults.
This recipe was destined to be shared with the world. In 2010, while Adam’s band was touring the West Coast, they stumbled upon a Puerto Rican restaurant called Sol Food just twenty miles north of San Francisco. None of the guys had ever tried this type of cuisine before, but everyone instantly fell in love. The outside of the restaurant was painted a vibrant green and the interiors were decorated with colorful vintage doors and lush tropical plants. Adam ordered a flat pressed vegetarian sandwich with avocado, roasted red peppers, sautéed onions, organic greens, sliced tomato, Jack cheese and a tasty cilantro-lime mayo, and it was one of the best sandwiches he had ever tasted. On every table in the restaurant there was a mysterious bottle of red sauce with no label, and as the guys looked around, they could see other customers generously pouring it over everything: sandwiches, black beans and rice, and yuca. Well, they started by adding a few tentative drops to their dishes, but by the end of the meal they were all practically drinking it straight from the bottle. It was spicy, tangy, and deeply flavorful: filled with bright chiles and just the slightest hint of sweetness, it was unlike anything Adam had ever tasted, and he had to find out more about it.