
Someone (BMurphy) reminded me that I have a blog and haven't written on it in a very long time. Whoops. So thanks for the reminder!
So here goes:
Free Food is one of the best things on Earth.
A few years ago, I interned at the Cooperstown Chamber of Commerce. Lots of happy baseball people and opera-loving men in rumpled linen suits. One of my very favorite things about working there was the food. B&Bs are EVERYWHERE in that town, and in all of Upstate NY for that matter. The Chamber members would bring in amazing pastries and breakfast and just... pure goodness on a plate. And we would all dig in. There was bacon. And it was good.
In college, my bestest friend, Rae, and I worked in the Alumni & Donor Records Office. Free food abounded there, too. Mostly donuts and cookies. Our boss insisted we eat whatever food was there. She was Italian, that explains it all. Lorae and I did justice to many a fruit and cookie platter in our years there.
I'm temping this week at an insurance office full of very nice, extremely civic-minded, charity-loving individuals. Come to find out, these people are good about everything, including their diets. There were five people here yesterday. Guess how many eat sweets? One. Guess who that one was? Me.
I had a bite of what amounted to two chocolate bars wrapped in bread, but didn't finish it as I have no desire to develop Type 2 Diabetes. I brought it home to my husband. The man can eat anything and he still has 0% bodyfat. I told him this and he informed that if he had 0% bodyfat he would be dead. Smart Alec. I had half a shortbread cookie instead. Before I even bit down I could tell the shortbread was pure fat. Whether it be crisco or butter, it was oh so good. Shortbread is magical. So versatile and you don't even need eggs.
My husband had quite a culinary adventure over the weekend. I wasn't feeling well and he decided to make his grandmother's brownies. Somewhere between warm the oil and bake at 375, something went horribly, terribly wrong and they came out this crumbly, grainy mess of ickiness.
The better I get at cooking, the worse he gets. When we were first dating (which makes me sound old, I know), he impressed me with his culinary acumen and presentation of a butter-slathered hot and spicy shrimp dish that made me want to marry him on the spot. Since 11th grade is a bad time to get married, we postponed. Now that we live together and I temp, which is code for "work once a month," I do all the cooking. I've heard him say several times that he can't cook. Which is just silly. He can remember ridiculous amounts of information, learn how to fly planes, and can't make a simple casserole?
May I present: Cooking for Engineers. Recipes and cooking tips for people with minds like my husband. That is, science-y and technical-y and precise-y. I was raised with the "pinch of this, pinch of that" method.
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I didn't set out to write entirely about food. Can you tell that my lunch was dissatisfying? Can you tell I wish I had more than a PB&J and a peach to eat? What I wouldn't give for Cape Cod potato chips right about now.