So far, the summer in New York City has been relentless–hot, sticky, humid or rainy just about every single day, and often a combination of all four, so I wasn’t kidding when I said this heat is getting to me, and has all but sapped my desire to cook. But I didn’t mean “cook” per se–I don’t wish to eat take-out every night–I meant the kind of cooking that requires the oven to be on for more than 10 minutes.
July, 2008 Archive
I realized something frightening over the weekend: I am so far behind on posting recipes we’ve auditioned over the last couple months, I could pretty much post every day for the next week and only just then begin to be almost caught up.
I’m going to take a brief break from your food phobias today to tell you about my newest one. It lives in the freezer. It controls my mind, and at times, my spoon. And at the rate we’re going, it will be the very end of me. Or my waistline. Or my husband, as he leaves me for the Paris-dweller who envisioned this masterpiece.
Wow, just wow. You sure know how to give a girl performance anxiety! I mean, how do I top a wedding cake? Am I going to have to mill my own flour? (Do you “mill” flour? Should getting the lexicon right be the first step?) Should I buy a cow so I can get the milk for free (oh, how I crack myself up…) and make butter and yogurt and mm, creme fraiche? How will a simple salad keep you interested now?
Oh, I’m sorry. Were you looking for me? Was I supposed to tell you something? It’s just that I left this wedding at 5 p.m. on a Sunday so exhausted, I’m pretty sure I stormed home in my 3-inch gold heels, promptly fell asleep on the sofa and didn’t wake up until 8 this morning.
Oh, hi. Are you still out there? Oh, right, it’s the middle of a holiday weekend and you’re probably a) at the beach, b) sleeping on a hammock in a backyard or c) taking one of those media breaks the kids are so into these days. And believe it or not, I had a few days off too.