Fewer things make me happier than garlic, lots and lots of garlic. Gianduja. Argyle socks. Making snap judgments. The word "ilk." And, of course, more garlic. I noticed that people started coming within 10 feet of me today. Since I don't really like people* and try to maintain a 12-foot radius, another garlicky dinner was a no-brainer.
*Not you.
Keep going...
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I was going to write this up last night, but then I went to a party that I'd only intended to stay at for an hour or two and ended up getting home at 3:30. AND I had like a whole beer and a half, so you know I was in no shape to do anything. When we walked in the front door, we were violently assaulted by the smell of garlic. You'd think we'd have been used to the smell, which had been slowly seeping from our pores all evening and is probably embedded in our neighbors' godawful sofa*, ...
I know, the post title isn't very exciting or funny or clever. Don't blame me, blame the three and a half hour meeting I had this afternoon. Don't we go to work at non-profits so we don't have to sit through three and a half hour meetings? You pay me less, I wear comfy shoes to work and don't deal with meetings; that is the deal, no? Also this particular meeting was three and a half hours, did I mention that?
It is, therefore, not surprising that when I got home I wanted something quick, warm ...
The news said there was a 65% chance of vampires, so I figured better safe than sorry.
Tonight: Thomas Keller's The French Laundry Cookbook (cue foreboding music)
I tried to keep the title clean, in case, you know, your frigging kids are reading over your shoulder (go to bed). I'm in a bit of a mood, you see, because Thomas Keller has roundly defeated us with his precise ways and time consuming techniques and bizarre use of hard-boiled egg yolks. How does the man get a single dish out of his kitchen - a phalanx of oompa loompas? Because ...