Sharing stories of food stories we love.
Let's have a quick chat tonight. Specifically, let's talk about salads.
If you've been following along with me on Instagram (of course you are, why miss out on such wit?!), it's possible that you think I subsist on large slices of chocolate layer cake and cookie crumbs.
That is decidedly not the case. I do love a good dessert, and I do have a wicked sweet tooth.
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You may be wondering where I have been. You may be sitting at your dining room table at this very moment thinking: "listen up girl, I have been JONESING for some cake, and it is your job to provide me with it, and you've let me down!"
I'm so sorry; I really have let you down. Does it help if I tell you that I have been gallivanting about the East Coast, eating warm baguettes from the King Arthur bakery in Vermont and playing with my new niece who is getting wonderfully more chubby with each passing minute (by playing, obviously I mean squeezing her thighs and singing her terribly off-key Josh Ritter and John Denver songs)?
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Can I ask you a question? Do you often cook fancy meals when it's just you? No judgment either way. (After all, I consider a bowl of well-buttered popcorn a culinary accomplishment of its own sort.) I'm curious. Often I think "oh, that's too much trouble" about making a portion for just one. But really, more delicious food doesn't necessarily equal more difficult cooking.
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You're home, finally. This morning feels like the distant past, like sipping your cup of coffee at 7 AM actually took place a week ago. You remember hitting snooze on the alarm once, no wait twice, and running a brush through your sleep-tangled hair. But the memory feels hazy.
The day started off gloomy. Under a gray sky, you trudged to work, thinking that airy linen t-shirts and bare legs and creamy almond milk iced lattes suddenly seem quite far away.
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Today was a brilliant, sunny 68 degrees. I woke up and walked to yoga class without a jacket. Ninety minutes later, I walked home, drenched in sweat and on a little bit of an exercise high. I confess that I might have given a slightly superior look to all those bleary-eyed people slowly waking up over coffee in the local diner. But to the people already lined up at my local bakery (the one with the EXCEPTIONAL scone-sized cookies), I gave them all a mental high five. Those people have their priorities in order: Warm cookie > commute.
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