Gnashing of teeth. Flailing of arms. Collective glaring and pouting.
My friends (no, my real friends, not my swing-state voter “friends”), I apologize deeply for my delinquency in the last week or so. The Scarpelli wedding rendered me useless for a good 48 hours, and then, just when it felt like the right time to tackle the butternut squash in my cabinet and explore the more imaginative applications of my circa-1977 Crock Pot (judge not, lest ye find yeself hungry, cold and lazy in this bracing fall chill), other things made annoying, yet necessary demands on my time.
Like you, I’m frustrated. I’ve spent far too much time being sociable and/or responsible and, indeed, far too little time cooking and not wearing pants.
Tonight, and every Monday for the next 8 weeks (or more, if I am once again seduced by the spirit of Boogie McClarin), I will, alas, be wearing pants but having a grand old time breaking it down here, so I can’t promise you instant gratification (unless you count visions of me popping and/or locking as such… which I welcome you to do).
But I will be better. I promise.
Maybe, in the meantime, folks can post comments about the stuff they’ve been whipping up lately…? Perhaps a recent tale of a potato-fennel-gruyere gratin, ahem? Or a true-jam Shit from my Fridge from any new-ish foodies/cooks?