A Rough Outline and an Audible
Swedish Meatballs making a huge comeback, source says
Friends, Romans, Countrywomen,
I know you’re most likely not wondering what I’m cooking this week, but I will tell you anyways. It’s kind of the deal around here. To any new subscribers, welcome welcome to the kitchen.
I did my first round of The Dinner Edit last week and had some good feedback, so here we are again!
Let’s just hop right to it, shall we?
XOXO Allison
A Rough Outline and an Audible
I was sitting at my kitchen table Sunday afternoon and got out a few cookbooks. I enjoy when I have time to peruse, to think about the week and the weather, to analyze my taste and cravings. I expend a significant amount of mental energy thinking of all the possibilities of the days ahead.
Like I mentioned to you last time, I’m sometimes scribbling on a piece of paper, typing out ideas on a haphazard iPhone note. This is some sort of ritual, I guess, without any pomp and circumstance. And it’s also mildly agonizing? What if I don’t cook the absolute BEST thing for dinner? What is the appropriate amount of effort for any old AJM? (Average Joe Monday, obviously). Also what sounds good? I promise, I love cooking, I just, I just want to lay on the couch with my tea and watch Bake Off, not go to the store with everyone else in Oklahoma.
But we must pull our selves up by our metaphorical bootstraps and stock the larder. (A brief aside to mention a big new grocery store opened by my house. I’d say it’s an improvement? There’s still an H-E-B shaped hole in my heart.)
Le sigh.
Sunday night, I returned to my focaccia recipe from last week for a classic homemade-pizza-on-a-Sunday-night situation. And it was good, don’t get me wrong, but I can’t even begin to explain tizzy I worked myself up into when the pizza crust would not release from the sheet pan. Despite my supposedly thorough dose of olive oil onto the sheet pan, the crust decided to, I dunno, chemically bond with the metal. I managed to rip some of it off and eat it.
And, lo, what light from yonder window breaks. It is in these moments of putting all my physical energy into this dumb spatula to try to release the crust that I remember why I’m not cut out to be a baker.
Relent! Recoil! Release!
I am physically exhausted. My feet hurt. This is why people order Dominos. Bless the sweet British bakers who I presume are still recovering from Bread Week. Anyways, yeah the pizza was good. Just oil your sheet pans, ladies!!! Or buy a pizza stone like your father is named William Sonoma.
But onward we ride to Monday. (Sticking with the whole protein + grain/carb/starch + veg formula again).
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