bite sized desserts


Yield: 2 dozen

The things you’ll need


  • 2 ½ cup all purpose flour
  • 2 tablespoon sugar
  • 1 teaspoon salt
  • ½ vanilla bean
  • ½ cup butter flavored shortening, chilled
  • ½ cup salted butter, chilled
  • 6 tablespoon buttermilk
Pumpkin Filling
  • 6 oz. cream cheese at room temperature
  • 1 ¼ cup pumpkin puree
  • ½ cup light brown sugar
  • 2 eggs
  • 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
  • 1 teaspoon pumpkin pie spice
  • ½ teaspoon cinnamon
  • ½ teaspoon sea salt
Whipped Cream
  • 1 cup heavy whipping cream
  • 2 tablespoons sugar
  • Egg wash
  • Pastry brush
  • Decorating bag fitted with a #849 tip
  • Cinnamon for decoration
  • Large mixing bowl
  • Mini tart pan
  • Plastic wrap
  • Round cookie cutter
  • Rolling pin
  • Baking sheet tray lined with parchment
  • Two medium mixing bowls
  • Hand mixer
  • Two rubber spatulas
  • Small ice cream scoop

Let’s get started!

  1. In a large bowl, combine flour, sugar, vanilla bean, and salt.
  2. Add cubed butter and shortening and work between fingers until the mixture resembles coarse meal. Drizzle in ice-cold buttermilk. Work in the buttermilk to form a dough.
  3. Form the dough into two discs and wrap tightly in plastic wrap and chill for 2 to 24 hours to set.
  1. Preheat oven to 350ºF.
  2. In a medium mixing bowl use a hand mixer to combine cream cheese and brown sugar until smooth. Add eggs one at a time, mixing between each addition and scrape down the sides as necessary.
  3. Add pumpkin, spices, salt and vanilla extract and beat until smooth.
  4. When dough is set, roll out to 1/8 an inch thick and cut circles out using the round cookie cutter. Line dough rounds into each tart pan.
  5. Use a fork to prick the bottom of the crust then brush egg wash on the tops of each cup. Scoop filling into each pie cavity almost to the top, almost 2 tablespoons.
  6. Bake for 12-15 minutes. Allow to fully cool before adding topping.
  7. In a medium mixing bowl, use a hand mixer to whip the heavy cream and sugar until stiff. Scoop into a decorating bag attached with a #849 tip.
  8. Sprinkle each pie with a bit of cinnamon. Ta-da! Mini pumpkin pies!

anonymous asked:

The Minyard last name reminds me a lot of the french word "mignardise" (pronounced minyard-eez) which means a tiny version of a dessert, a mini pastry, and honestly if "tiny pile of sugar" isn't a definition of Andrew idk what is

not to alarm you or anything but this is stupendous & you’re a comedic genius

If I had character tags you can bet your bottom dollar that I would be stealing “tiny pile of sugar” for andrew

a little bite-sized dessert wow how much do you think french-speaking neil absolutely calls andrew his mignardise :////

Dumb genius

fandom: Stony (Steve x Tony)

summary: Tony starts to hate his additional pounds which leads to starving and self hatred and feeling unworthy of dating a person like Steve. Luckily, Steve knows better

length: 1 243 words

warnings: body acceptance fic with chubby!Tony, mentions of alcoholism

a/n: filling in more prompts! this fic is a bit on the sad side, but has a happy ending. hope you like it!


Dumb genius

Tony groaned, doing his best to suck his stomach in. Almost, almost there… Done! He managed to pull the zipper up and even button the black slacks. He looked in the mirror, turning around. Not bad. He just couldn’t breathe. That was a minor discomfort. He also noticed that the material clung around his hips and butt. Nothing a long jacket wouldn’t fix. If only the jacket would fit too, that was…

Giving up, Tony groaned louder, sliding a hand down his face. When did it happen that he stopped fitting in his own pants? He noticed that he had gained a bit of weight, but didn’t realize that it was that bad. Damn sweatpants with elastic. They mislead him as the material was stretching with his growing waist, and he didn’t think that it was so bad.

“Babe, are you ready?!”

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He Ignores You

Harry: “What are you thinking about getting?” You question, crawling into his lap as he sits on the couch, a Top Gear rerun playing on the television. “This,” he says, holding his hands up to your face, forming a box around your features. You roll your eyes, “What are you really getting?” You push his hands down from your face. “I’m being serious.” No he wasn’t. Was he? “Harry you don’t expect me to believe that you’re actually going to get my face tattooed on your body,” you counter, leaning away from him a bit. “Oh, but I am, Zayn got Perrie.” He reaches back to grab his phone off of the arm rest, pulling up the sketch the artist drew of you for him. “Harry!” You whine, looking at the picture in horror. He just laughs, placing his hands on yours to balance you as he gets up from the couch. “My appointment is in fifteen, I should be going.” “Harry,” you spit, your eyes and tone showing your seriousness. “It will look fine,” he assures you. “No! Harry you can’t do this.” “Why not? Are you planning on breaking up with me or something?” “Well no, but that doesn’t mean you need to go and get something ridiculous like my face tattooed on you.” “Don’t put yourself down like that,” he jokes, patting your shoulder as he slips on his boots and grabs his keys. “Harry, for the love of God, don’t do it.” He leaves you with a smile, shutting the door behind him. Traffic makes him twenty minutes late for his appointment, but of course his artist kept the schedule open. “Hey mate, ready?” He questions once Harry finally walks through the door. “Yeah, sorry, traffic was crazy.” “Don’t worry about it, let’s get you in the chair.” Harry follows him through the shop and into the empty room that he had been in so many times before. He slips his black t-shirt off, laying it over the back of the chair before sitting down, exposing the blank canvas that was his right arm. “So we’re still going for this, right?” The man questions, holding up the sketch of you. Harry looks it over, smiling at how detailed and beautiful it was. “I was actually thinking you could maybe freehand something for me instead.” Harry had thought his decisions over while the traffic kept him stuck on the A1, coming to the conclusion that you would take a knife to his arm to remove any trace of your face if he actually went through with this. You weren’t as understanding as Perrie. “Sure man, what were you thinking?” “Can you just do a pink bow, like here on my wrist,” he says, holding his left arm out, turning it over to find an empty place. “Pink bow?” The man questions. “Marie’s bow. From the Aristacats? It’s her favorite Disney character.” The man smiles and nods. “She wasn’t too happy about the whole portrait thing, was she?” “Not at all,” Harry laughs, shaking his head. This was a small gesture towards his feelings for you, although still very permanent. 

Liam: No. Whatever he wants, no. You look down at Liam’s phone screen as it displays Andy’s name. “No,” you answer before he can even say a word. “I haven’t even said anything.” “Whatever you’re wanting him to do, no.” He had drug Liam out every night this week, spending most of their nights with their beloved Buddha. “Oh, come on,” Andy begs. “No! He can stay in one night,” you explain. “But it’s Friday night!” His tone was turning from whine to harsh. “He’s not coming out.” “God you’re such a bitch sometimes.” At that you hang up the phone, you hated Liam’s friends sometimes. “Who were you yelling at?” He questions when you walk up to join him in the office, watching as he signs a stack of posters for charity. “Andy.” “Why? What did he want?” “What do you think he wants?” Liam chuckles, despite your clear annoyance with the phone call. “When is he coming to get me?” You roll your eyes. “He isn’t.” “Why not?” He turns around to look at you. “Liam, you’ve been out with him every night this week. Don’t you think you should stay home at least once?” “Babe, I’m only on break for another week, and Andy and I rarely get to see each other.” “We were just with him like a month ago!” Liam gets up from his seat at the desk, pushing past you to retrieve his phone from the living room. You scoff, rolling your eyes in the process. “Why can’t you just stay in?” You question, once Liam had returned upstairs, having called Andy back to get the night’s plans in order. “Because he doesn’t come with me on tour, you do.” What difference does that make? You weren’t seeing the point he was trying to make, unsure if there was a point at all. He leaves the office as is, closing the French doors behind him before making his way to the bedroom to get dressed. You sit on the bed, watching him blatantly ignoring your request for a night in. You say nothing though as he steps into his black jeans. There was no point in fighting him over it. He is going to do what he wants; he has the right to after all. He brings his hand around the back of your neck, pulling you into him as he presses a kiss to your forehead. “Please don’t be upset.” You nod slowly, unsure of how you feel at this moment. You watch as he walks out of the bedroom and listen for the front door to shut behind him. Andy had won this time.

Niall: Anywhere but here, that’s where you wanted to be. You had sat in this stadium twice this week already, now this makes it three. “Come on, Derby!” Niall moans on the edge of his seat. You roll your eyes. You were fine with the first game, even cheering on his favorite team and drinking with him and his friends. The second one was attended with less enthusiasm than the first, but you still drank and cheered when the right team scored. Today, though, you were feeling nothing. This was not where you wanted to be. You wanted to be in London, doing anything but watching football. Literally anything. Niall was still on break; he had less than a week left home. You wanted to spend as much time as possible with him before he returned to America until October. This is what was required of you to accomplish that though. You had to be here in order to get your time in with him. You would use this experience to remind your future self to stay in London when he came to games. You would find other ways to be with him because three games in one week was just too much. You sigh loudly, crossing your arms in the process, hoping to catch Niall’s attention. That was hopeless though. He would never take his eyes off of the pitch, no matter how annoyed or fed up you acted. You had even gotten up and walked away a few times. Nothing. He didn’t even bother to ask you where you had been for the fifteen and twenty minutes you had paced the concession area. “Niall,” you finally say, giving up completely on trying to send him subtle hints. He only mumbles in return, his elbows on his knees, his hands covering his mouth as he stares down the pitch. Shaking your head you turn from him, settling into your chair, looking at the clock to see how much longer you had to endure this. Too long. 

Louis: The kitchen was empty. Apart from you, of course. You had sent your guests, your friends from college, to the living room. You had invited them; you weren’t going to make them help you cook. However, the idiot walking around like he hasn’t got a clue about the world is a different story. How does he not see that you need help? You were preparing several tasting trays, trying to prove to everyone that you were actually learning something from culinary school. There was so much happening in this kitchen right now, and it was all up to you to make sure it was perfect. You could hear the laughs from the living room, Louis’s included. You shake your head at his ignorance. You had told him before they had even arrived that you would need his help preparing everything. Yes, he had brushed your request off, but you didn’t actually think he would leave you. “Louis!” You call out. You really needed help. Nothing. You turn back to the stir the boiling pot in front of you, preparing to plate the small dishes. “Did you need something?” One of your friends asks as she walks up to the breakfast bar, sitting her wine glass down amongst the small dishes and trays. “I just needed Louis for a second, but I’m good now,” you lie, and she smiles, nodding her head and picking back up her glass to return to the group. You continue to plate the food, giving everything one last taste before you’re ready to bring them all to the dining room. You look over what you had spent the last three hours creating; it was impressive. The vast array of hors d'oeuvre, small entrees, and bite sized desserts covered almost the entire table. You were very pleased with the outcome, and with yourself for accomplishing it all. “Alright you all, let’s eat,” you call out as you place utensils with the trays. As everyone settles into their designated chairs, you watch as they mull over the options in front of them. “Okay, so you have to try everything. There’s enough for everyone to have at least one of everything,” you explain to the group as they look over everything. “This looks amazing,” Louis says walking around to you, having been standing by the window during your instructions. He slips his arm around your hip, pulling you into him, a proud smile on his face. “No thanks to you,” you comment, annoyed, pulling from grasp to head back to the kitchen to take your apron off and wash your hands before returning to the group.

Zayn: You didn’t mean to do it. Well, maybe you did. No. You definitely didn’t mean to do it. It doesn’t matter. You had stayed at work long enough to keep him waiting at the restaurant for over an hour. You knew what you were doing. You just couldn’t get away from the paperwork. A large stack of it had been sat on your desk fifteen minutes before it was time for you to leave for the day. You knew you weren’t going to just let it sit there. You knew you were going to work through it until you finished it, not wanting to have to see it back on your desk Monday morning. You hadn’t called him to tell him though; that part had slipped your mind completely. You worked into the night, only looking down at the clock on your computer screen once as it showed you how angry he would be with you. When you finally left the office, four hours after you were supposed to, you called him. He was livid, hanging up on your explanation. You hadn’t been able to reach him since. You had called him multiple times, leaving him endless voice mails and text messages with explanations of the situation that you had brought on yourself. You apologized profusely. Not being able to promise it wouldn’t happen again was what was keeping him from returning your calls. He knew that even if you did say you would never let work get the best of you again that you wouldn’t be telling the truth. It wasn’t really fair though. Work had kept him from dates before, and you had never been this angry with him. Disappointed, yes, but always ready on the other end when he called to apologize. It was something he needed to work on, he knew this. However, you knew it wasn’t fair to him to keep him waiting at an empty table without even a phone call to tell him you wouldn’t be making it. However, you had given up on trying to reach him at this point. He didn’t seem interested in making amends right now. You would wait it out, he always came around. But this was something that needed to be fixed with more than just an “I’m sorry.”  

Baked Mini Apple Tarts

A small and wonderful dessert. Instead of making a pie dough, you can get some frozen mini tarts at the supermarket as a substitute. 

These bite-size desserts are perfect for a small gathering or potluck parties! 


  • ½ of an apple
  • whipping cream
  • 3 tbsp brown sugar
  • 1 tsp cinnamon
  • 1 tsp vanilla extract
  • 2 tsp lemon juice
  • 6 mini tarts


1. Use ½ of the apple and diced them finely. Then use another ¼ of the halved apple and julienne.

2. Mix the diced and julienne apples with sugar, cinnamon, vanilla extract and lemon juice.

3. Scoop a spoonful of the apple mixture into the tarts. Bake in the oven at 300'C for 20 minutes or so.

4. When the tarts are ready, assemble the tarts. First - slice the remaining apple into thin slices.

5. Add whipping cream on top of the tarts and decorate with the sliced apples.

6. Serve!