When I first started really cooking, I threw things together. Lentils, salt, crock pot, thyme. Then I started following recipes. And eating, lots of eating of things that I wouldn’t have otherwise eaten. Nothing truly daring, but new foods. Indian buffets were my daring indulgence. I lived in a vegetarian co-op and cooked green pea […]
Another exercise thingy: Two stories tall, narrow, Victorian-style, hardwood floors now sprinkled with antique rugs, two and a half baths with good plumbing under them; a cellar whose shelves groaned out for jars of jam and carbuoys of beer; robin’s-egg blue walls in good condition and an air conditioning unit fit to freeze Hell
Part of a writing exercise thingy: You hate food balloons. Anything with a tough skin over a mushy middle. Peaches are okay. The skin isn’t thick enough to conceal rot. You know where you are with a peach. But grapes, most grapes are horrible. You can’t just pop a grape into your mouth. That’s
