The Slattern Rants: “Oh no, I don’t cook.”
Well folks, Spring has sprung and with it has come a flurry of activity and demands, so I’m going to cheat a bit and reuse an earlier post. I’ll be traveling to Austin, that’s TEXAS, this weekend and will endeavor to make some notes on my experiences with Mezcal, and mechanical bulls and Tex-Mex cuisine (Isn’t that a contradiction in terms? Stay tuned.). Provided of course, they don’t confiscate iPads in the local lock-up.
As I have previously documented in my cluttery, overfurnished, boozy little corner of the blogosphere, given even a glimmer of a chance, I would move into a hotel and eat every meal in a restaurant for the rest of my life. In a heartbeat. Alas, though we all have dreams, we must also live in the real world. As such I can cook, and of necessity I do cook; from time to time I’ll admit I even enjoy it.
Knowing how to prepare a basic meal is just one of those things a reasonably competant adult should be able to do, along with riding a bicycle, driving a car and swallowing the worm at the bottom of a tequila bottle without going all sissy and gagging.
Now I’m not saying everyone needs to be able to rustle up a standing rib roast or les nonnettes de poulet Agnès Sorel at the…
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