Anything, really.
I can't remember the last time there was a stretch this long when I just haven't cooked. But here we are, and the last time I personally made anything for dinner was April 6 (sandwiches). Here's why:
April 7: Chuck and I went out with my old (ancient, really) friend Corey and his lovely wife, Monique, who were visiting from Chicago. We ate truffle fries and drank fancy cocktails. Chuck had a milkshake made of frozen custard and some kind of chocolate liqueur and vanilla vodka.
April 8: Passover at Amy's. I actually did cook some stuff for the seder: roast vegetables and a parsley salad, and I dipped a bunch of matzah and dried apricots in chocolate.
April 9, 10, 11: I can't remember what happened on these days, but something must have. Anyway, whatever it was didn't involve producing food in this kitchen.
April 12: We went out for Easter lunch with Chuck's parents. They took us to Lidia's, where I completely abandoned any pretense of following the Pesach dietary restrictions. By dinnertime, six hours later, we were still full. We made the kids some frozen potstickers and edamame.
April 13: Alex's birthday. If Alex could choose all the time, he would eat nothing but pizza and sweets at every meal. On his birthday, he gets his wish.
April 14: The family ate leftover pizza and other assorted refrigerator flotsam (not as bad as it sounds). I went to risotto class with Rachel. Technically I cooked, but it was instructional. Learned some good things from Lidia's amazing chef de cuisine, Cody Hogan.
I wonder if Lidia's needs an in-house counsel.
April 15: I came home late after judging some student arguments. Chuck had already fed the kids . . . something. I ate my instructional risotto with some asparagus and arugula.
April 16: Still more leftover pizza (we bought too much on the 13th). I think it's over now. Tomorrow? Back to using my kitchen for its intended purpose, and not just for magazine storage.
I can't remember the last time there was a stretch this long when I just haven't cooked. But here we are, and the last time I personally made anything for dinner was April 6 (sandwiches). Here's why:
April 7: Chuck and I went out with my old (ancient, really) friend Corey and his lovely wife, Monique, who were visiting from Chicago. We ate truffle fries and drank fancy cocktails. Chuck had a milkshake made of frozen custard and some kind of chocolate liqueur and vanilla vodka.
April 8: Passover at Amy's. I actually did cook some stuff for the seder: roast vegetables and a parsley salad, and I dipped a bunch of matzah and dried apricots in chocolate.
April 9, 10, 11: I can't remember what happened on these days, but something must have. Anyway, whatever it was didn't involve producing food in this kitchen.
April 12: We went out for Easter lunch with Chuck's parents. They took us to Lidia's, where I completely abandoned any pretense of following the Pesach dietary restrictions. By dinnertime, six hours later, we were still full. We made the kids some frozen potstickers and edamame.
April 13: Alex's birthday. If Alex could choose all the time, he would eat nothing but pizza and sweets at every meal. On his birthday, he gets his wish.
April 14: The family ate leftover pizza and other assorted refrigerator flotsam (not as bad as it sounds). I went to risotto class with Rachel. Technically I cooked, but it was instructional. Learned some good things from Lidia's amazing chef de cuisine, Cody Hogan.
I wonder if Lidia's needs an in-house counsel.
April 15: I came home late after judging some student arguments. Chuck had already fed the kids . . . something. I ate my instructional risotto with some asparagus and arugula.
April 16: Still more leftover pizza (we bought too much on the 13th). I think it's over now. Tomorrow? Back to using my kitchen for its intended purpose, and not just for magazine storage.
