Remember how sometimes your mom, try as she might to rival that genius Chef Boyardee, would only succeed in making the most god-awful crap for dinner? And how she probably hoped you’d be a pliant little kid and chew it up good and choke it down nice? But how somewhere in her head thrummed the nagging notion that it really was the most vile and appalling slop? But how you didn’t know if she actually thought that because you were just a greedy little tot and didn’t give a rip about your mom’s inner thought life and deep, secret sorrows? So how all you really DID know was that she’d made you mush and it made you sick and it made you cry?
Well …. uh …. I’m afraid what I’ve been cooking up this last week in the ol’ Worship Naked post kitchen has seemed just a tad too much like this:
Okay, now dry your eyes. Sorry if your tummy hurts.
Kitchen closed ’til Monday. I’m in a timeout.
FINE.
but it hurts me way more than it hurts you. remember that!
Looks fine to me. Enough Louisiana Hot Sauce or Tobasco will fix anything.
Well. Almost. Nothing fixes beets. Or peas.
ummmm… what is it? or what was it supposed to be? Are we playing Guess This Dish?
It’s definitely got the yellow/orange/red hues going on. Colorful if nothing else.
Hey, there’s nothing wrong with beets. Well, those canned pickled beets are unpleasent, but I roast fresh beets and they get all sweet and…
I think I need to run up to the farmer’s market before I go home tonight.
And whatever that is in the picture looks okay to me. What is it, some kind of lasagne or other pasta bake?
ObEyre: I’m stuck around the part where she’s left Rochester and nearly died of exposure.
Awww, Tracey…just serve it with a loaf of fresh bread and a crisp green salad! Looks good to me 🙂
Don’t stay gone too long!
I’m kind of embarrassed I didn’t notice, but I will notice you gone!