cherry tomato vinaigrette and gorgonzola bruschetta
Dear shrink, I'm
Dear shrink, I'm
Have I mentioned how unapologetically cheap I am? Right
No lattice-top? No pretty dashing colors of summer berries? Not even the scarce possibility of a scoop of ice-cream on top (people will eat anything with an ice-cream on top these days)(how's that heatwave going)? Just when my latest favorite creation was traffic-vetoed because of its less-than-fashionable appearance (A'ight, it may look Susan Boyle but that rice can fucking sing!), I can't believe I'm preparing to feature this visual question-mark
Had I anticipated enough courage to pick up the topic of peach and mascarpone again this summer, I probably wouldn't have cashed that sob-story so early. After that horrendous disaster of a pie, if that pile of slumpy menace could still be called that
The agony of making creative effort in the kitchen is, more often than not (and don't tell me otherwise), we fall into the tormenting limbo between imagination and reality and sometimes the plunge feels eternally lasting. My current episode has been ruthlessly stretching into its 9th day-anniversary, on-going, in cold blood. Do feel bad because here it comes
Sometimes I get a little personal when I take a stroll through the expansive, razzle-dazzling and star-crusted cosmic jungle that is food-blogosphere. I really don't mean to compare I really don't. Wise man once said that
I know I know there must be a food-blogger authority staking-out behind a cyber-corner, waiting to ticket me just as soon as I violate the meter by hitting the "publish" button (just any second now
Drop down on a point back in time, all the way back in my 500-sqft studio in New York when I was joyfully smooching a pint of Ben'n Jerry's which I casually grabbed from the downstair 24hr-deli, and tell me that in the not-so-distant future, anytime-access to my beloved collection of ice cream-babies would be a thing of the past