Lunch

Salad (farmer’s market lettuce, olive oil, balsamic, mustard, and raw garlic):

Yes.

Sauteed mushrooms:

Hell, yes.

Omelet:

Bah!

I followed the recipe and everything.

But to make up for it, looky here:

THAT---would be almond butter.

From raw almonds.

That I roasted.

And then made

into

almond

butter.

(This is funnier if you imagine me saying it in a sing-songy, victorious voice.)

I get my Laura Ingalls Wilder badge, now, right?

Chicken-Vegetable Soup, Redux

Remember that massacre in a pot I made?

It was supposed to look like this:

Yeeeeeaaah, boyyyyyyyy.

Here it is in a bowl:

Soup that I made. In a bowl.

Here it is in the fridge:

Soup that I made. In the fridge.

I almost took pictures of me and the soup frolicking together in a meadow. That’s how good it is.

Can I tell you something? I poached chicken. I took chicken, and then I poached it.

And I made vegetable soup and put that poached chicken in that vegetable soup, and it is delicious.

I’m cooking. I’m a cooker. I’m a caulker and a cooker.

I’m pretty sure there’s no end to my talents.

Actual Conversation from Tonight’s Dinner Party

(Not at my house, natch.)

Friend: This is delicious, [hostess], and speaking of which (turning to me), let’s talk about your blog.

Other friend: What about it?

Me: I’ve been trying to do some cooking.

Friend: (laughing) Ugh, what WAS that ham and lima bean and mozzarella thing?

Me: (hanging head) I’m TRYING.

Friend: You just need to learn a few basics, like soup and chicken.

Me: I tried to bake some chicken. It didn’t work.

Friend: What did you do?

Me: I coated it in a chicken spice and put it in my toast-r-oven at 400.

(peals of laughter from all parties)

Friend: You can’t cook chicken in a toast-r-oven!

Me: Why not? It’s a toast-r-OVEN. Gah!

Friend: How much chicken did you put in there?

Me: Four breasts.

(more peals)

Me: WHAT?!

Friend: So what happened?

Me: I couldn’t get it up to the right internal temperature, so I had to resort to the regular oven, but then it just turned to rubber.

By the way, that was two weeks ago, and it’s still in my fridge. Why do I believe that my cooking, like fine wine, will improve with age?