I follow several blogs, most of them written by friends, several of whom will post recipes when they’ve cooked something wholesome and delicious. My own wife post recipes, about twice a year, on her blog. I am not going to do so now, since thats not the purpose of this blog. But I will say that we cooked with wine, so I had to buy a cheap bottle, so I got the Covey Run. And I’ve been drinking it. Yeehaa. If I was clever, I’d find some way to write something pseudo-fictional that described the recipe (since the the purpose of this blog for the past 23 and the next 27 days is to report on attempting to write every day).
Something like: “Harold, 43, divorced, horny, walked through the grocery store, attempting to glide with a nonchalance that belied the contents of his cart: ground turkey, bread crumbs, sour cream and egg noodles.” Or even “Ground Turkey in America, bored off his keister, went for a roll, in a bowl, 32 times… Diced onions and minced garlic were there.” (with apologies to Richard Brautigan).
Of course, in the one print of issue of Wiffli that I did last year, I had a fictional article written by a chef, complete with recipe. But that’s too much work for right now. So, apparently, is maintaining some kind of meaningful thread in this entry. Sorry. I started this and then we watched Men Who Stare at Goats and it was pretty bad. Tell you what, tomorrow I’ll post a new short story.
