I am selling my apartment, job hunting, looking for a rental and have had the single busiest week I may have had at work, ever. Mostly BY CHOICE. Because I have a problem.

Is there anything else I can do to throw my life into complete upheaval? Get a divorce? Adopt several Chinese babies? Start smoking, so I can quit smoking? BECAUSE I WILL DO IT.

I didn’t cook AT ALL this week because of Threat Level Red Overworkedness, but I couldn’t bring myself to waste the duck legs, bottle of port and $8 worth of Jerusalem artichokes I’d bought for the Smackdown. I made the Jerusalem artichoke soup with mushroom puree and duck ragout tonight from Gordon Ramsay’s Maze tonight, instead.

Completely out of sync with the season? Yes. Completely amazing? Offensively so.

I apologize that my killer fatigue means that this post will be written entirely in sentence fragments, haiku and/or non-sequiturs. If I can even eke that out before I fall alseep sitting at the kitchen table.


What smells better than duck braising in port and veal stock?

Okay, fine, cinnamon rolls. I mean OTHER than that. I defy you to respond.

Of course, this intensely wonderful smell is going to waste, because the apartment is now under contract and I have no more buyers to impress.

not giant grubs

Jerusalem artichokes: three thoughts.

1. Who thought it would be a good idea to cross-breed a russet potato with a grub?

2. They are neither from Jerusalem, nor artichokes. Discuss.

3. Oh-uh:

Gerard’s Herbal, printed in 1621, quotes the English planter John Goodyer on Jerusalem artichokes:

“Which way soever they be dressed and eaten, they stir and cause a filthy loathsome stinking wind within the body, thereby causing the belly to be pained and tormented, and are a meat more fit for swine than men.”*

*ETA: Shit y’all, John was SO RIGHT.


Career Advancement: An Update in Seventeen Syllables (2012)

From ten resumes,
Four in-person interviews.
But no job offers.

Do I have spinach stuck in my teeth or something?

Also: mushroom puree looks like baby poop.

not poop

See? Baby poop. Color AND texture.

But it tastes like an umami bomb. Mushrooms, butter, salt and pepper, Cabernet vinegar, a bit of duck braising liquid and heavy cream. Who knew? I mean, I probably would have known if I had stopped to think about it for three seconds. Because hello, sauteed mushrooms and duck-infused port and veal stock? Kill me now.


This is a plate of food I would expect to eat in a really nice restaurant if I were out to celebrate something. In February. Thus, while I highly recommend this book and recipe, I would also recommend that an 86 degree day is perhaps not the most appropriate.

the loving spoonful


I apologize deeply for this hot mess of a post. If you need something better, go re-read this one, or this other one. Especially if you represent an organization that is considering offering me employment. Those other ones are really good, I swear. They have full sentences and everything.

To appease the angry blog gods, I humbly present an offering of cuteness in the form of the TNS canine mascots upon their return from two days at dog camp:

the younger

the elder