Hey there! Just checking in from Mt. Hood where it's mostly snowing, hailing and incessantly raining. There are, however, just enough sun breaks to make me feel hopeful that we'll do more than sit around the condo trying not to drive each other bonkers.
I read a book start to finish since we got up here, partly because of the aforementioned weather, partly because I'm sick and partly because I couldn't bear to put it down: A Homemade Life by Molly Wizenberg.
Reading the book made my mouth water even though all I could stomach was another Ricola and some more Sudafed; it made my heart hurt and my eyes tear more than once. It also made me smile in recognition, and at her witty turns of phrase.
I can all but guarantee you will eat this book up!
All along as I'm reading I'm thinking "I get this girl!" She is honest and raw and unflinchingly herself. Also butter doesn't make her flinch, and she’s found a way to incorporate chocolate into salads. Do you really need more of a reason to call Third Street Books (or your local indie bookstore) and get yours on the way? If you want to try out any of her recipes on me, I'd happily pull up a chair at your table.
My kitchen memoir, Not Like the Picture, is like Wizenberg's only in the sense that it chronicles the stories behind the food ... the memories ... my journey to the kitchen and the me I met in there. The key difference being you'll most certainly want to try Wizenberg's recipes. Mine are more like "what not to do" in the kitchen.
For example, the only chance I've had at bat this week in the kitchen I managed to set off the smoke alarms. This morning, though, I commandeered the kitchen to make some pesto out of stinging nettles. It'll be my little dinner surprise served over ravioli. Don't worry, I cooked the sting out of them!